From This Day Forward (7 page)

“
Christ
, Kathleen,” he said as he lurched for the open doorway.

“Sure, sure, blame me again,” his sister said happily. “I won’t even care so long as you catch her this time!”

Jason was already out the door as his sister said all of this, but even as he took his first steps, he knew it was hopeless. He hadn’t been able to catch her last time, and that was without his knee hurting like hell.

And he sure as hell wasn’t holding out hope that Leah would pause for even a moment and give him a damn chance.

O
hmigod.

Ohmigod. Ohmigod. Ohmigod.

How
stupid
could one woman be in the span of one calendar year?

Really stupid, apparently. Stupid enough to think that that night with Jason had meant as much to him as it had to her. Stupid enough to think that whatever unbreakable feelings she had for him might be mutual.

Leah had never been much of a runner, but she was running now. She’d never spent much time on the Jersey side, being a Brooklyn girl herself, but in the time she and Jason had been . . . doing whatever they were doing . . . she’d become familiar enough to make it to and from his place and the PATH station that took her back to New York.

It was all too familiar. The painful jiggle of her boobs thanks to the quickened motions of her feet and corresponding lack of a supportive sports bra. The awkward
slap, slap, slap
of her flip-flops as she risked tripping with every lurching step.

The gross, hiccupping sobs she was making.

A woman had answered the door. Not just any woman—
the
woman.
The same freaking woman.

Granted,
this
time the brunette hadn’t been half-naked, but still. For all of Jason’s talk about how he didn’t do relationships, he was certainly doing
something
with the pretty brunette.

Seeing as how she was, you know, pregnant.

With Jason’s baby?

This time she
did
trip, barely catching herself as her arms flailed wildly. Oh God. Had he slept with her when he was going to be the father to that woman’s baby?

Leah started to run faster.

People were staring, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t the first time there’d been a lovers’ spat of sorts in the tristate area, and it wouldn’t be the last. She didn’t care about any of that. She cared about getting home and trying to figure out how to piece together her pride. She cared about her dignity and . . .

Jason.

Leah’s pace slowed, and then slowed some more as the thought hit her hard.

She cared about Jason.

As in,
all the way
cared about him.

She loved him.

She loved him, and she’d dug deep to find the courage to come here today. To tell him that she wanted more than a fling, that she wanted . . . him.

And yet, she was
running
?

Again.

Without so much as seeing him or giving him the chance to explain.

That wasn’t love; it was immature cowardice.

Leah stopped as a surge of self-loathing overtook her. What was she doing?

The man she knew deserved better than this. The man she
loved
deserved a chance, at least, to explain.

And
she
deserved to hear whatever he had to say.

Even if it ripped her heart out.

Leah closed her eyes and took a deep breath before forcing herself to pivot on her heel.

This was about to suck. Forcing herself to walk back to his house, to somehow look him in the eye and apologize for running again.

She opened her eyes as she took a resolute step forward, only to skid to a halt once again.

Leah blinked. Blinked again.

Surely she was imagining things. Surely she wasn’t seeing Jason running—no,
hobbling
—toward her.

Her heart squeezed as she realized that he was limping—she knew that most of the time his knee didn’t give him much trouble, but he was always deliberate in the way he moved, careful not to make any sudden movement that would twist it.

She also knew that when he
did
aggravate it, it hurt like hell. And yet here he was, coming after her.

“Stop!” she yelled. “Jason, stop!”

He didn’t stop, and Leah took off toward him. “Stop!” she said again.

She got close enough to see his face and flinched when she saw the anger there. Still, she forced herself forward with her awkward, boob-jiggling, flip-flop run. She deserved his anger.

They collided into each other, her gasping for air a bit more than him, but their grip on each other was equally frantic.

“Your knee!” she said, just as he yelled, “What the hell, Red?”

His face was angry as his hand closed on her elbow, pulling her so close she had no choice but to look into his glowering expression. “I wouldn’t have to be running at all if you didn’t go scampering off like a damned jackrabbit every time my sister comes over to see me!”

“I don’t—”

Leah broke off, and she felt the blood drain from her face.

She’d thought he might have an explanation. She’d hoped it would be a good one—that would mean there might be some hope for them.

But never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that he’d have an explanation that made her feel so utterly, horribly foolish.

“Your sister,” she parroted back.

He swallowed and nodded. “Kathleen.”

She pulled back and lifted the heels of her hands to her temples. “Oh my God. That was your
sister
a year ago?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, that’s how sibling relationships work, Red. Sort of a lifetime deal.”

“Why didn’t you tell me!” she said, not caring that people were really starting to stare now.

He closed his eyes before opening them and meeting her gaze. “I should have. I should have, and I know that. But my entire life I’ve had to beg people to believe in me, Red. And I wanted so damn badly for you to want me enough to hear me out.”

The words sounded like they were ripped from the deepest part of his chest, and Leah’s own heart twisted in response.

She took a little step forward, half-terrified she was misunderstanding him. That he’d wanted her then, and now. “What do you mean nobody believed in you?”

He didn’t answer; his eyes came back to hers, dark and unreadable. Wary. “Why did you come here today, Leah?”

She pressed her lips together, not wanting to have to do this here. Not like this, when he was so mad at her, and she at him, and rightfully so on all sides. They’d both acted like fourteen-year-olds, not rational thirtysomething adults.

And yet, was there anything really rational about love? About the way that she wanted to fight for him, even though she wasn’t at all sure what he wanted from her, if anything?

She licked a salty tear from the corner of her mouth and lifted her chin.

It was time to be brave.

“I came here to tell you something,” she said, her voice a little too loud. Oh
Lord
, this was awkward.

“To tell me what?”

She swallowed and took a step forward. “To tell you. Um. To tell you why I switched to cinnamon toothpaste,” she said, the sentence coming out in a rush.

Okay, not what she’d meant to say, but at least he wasn’t moving away.

His eyes narrowed. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

Leah’s eyes locked on his. “Because it reminded me of you. Because even as I was dodging your calls, even as it was killing me to think of you with another woman, I missed you. Even when I was hating you, I was . . .”

She broke off, and Jason stepped closer, cupping her face as he searched her eyes urgently. “You were what, Leah?”

Leah squeezed her eyes shut and took the plunge. “Loving you. I loved you back then, and some foolish little part of me loved you this whole past year, even when the only thing that connected me to you was my freaking toothpaste. And then I saw you again, and I just . . . I
knew
. Knew that I had to tell you, even if you’d tell me that you’re still on the bachelor-for-life path, and—”

Jason’s mouth closed over hers, his kiss rough and hungry. “My beautiful idiot,” he murmured when he pulled back.

Her brain was still reeling from the unexpected kiss, and she blinked at him in confusion. “What—”

He kissed her again, quick and hard to shut her up. “Quiet. My turn. I chased you that day, did you know that? I ran my heart out for you, Red, but you were already on the train. And then I called and called, needing to hear your voice and explain, but when you didn’t pick up—when you decided I wasn’t worth picking up for—you broke me a little.”

She swallowed, wanting to make him stop, and yet knowing that they needed to do this to move forward.

He let out a slow breath, resting his forehead on hers for a moment before forcing himself to continue. “When I told you nobody believed in me, I meant
nobody
. Not until my sister showed up unexpectedly. I’ve always been everyone’s worst-case scenario, and I thought I was over that, but then
you
happened. And you mattered. You mattered so damn much, and—” Jason swallowed. “Fuck. I love you. I didn’t know it back then. I didn’t know what I was feeling, and I treated you—us—carelessly. But I know it now, Red, and I swear to God, I am not letting you go ever again. I will camp outside your apartment, I’ll follow you to every doctor’s appointment, and if you even think about going on a date with someone else, I will happily pull a fire alarm at the restaurant. I won’t stop. I won’t stop chasing you, and I sure as hell won’t stop loving you.”

Leah threw herself at him. Right there in the middle of the street, she launched herself at Jason, wrapping her arms around him as she buried her face in his neck. “I’m sorry for not believing in you. You’re the best man I know, and I should have trusted that.”

He cupped the back of her head and held her close. “Let’s start over. Start fresh, except this time we can cut straight to the good stuff.” He leaned down to her ear and nipped it lightly. “Since I already know how to play your body like a fiddle,” he murmured.

She laughed. “And I yours.”

“Too true.” Jason pulled back, smiling down at her as he held out a hand, which she happily took. “Come home with me. Come meet my sister and reassure her that you won’t go running every time you see her. And then you can talk to her belly and get to know the little critter who I have every intention of making your niece or nephew some day very soon . . .”

Leah skidded to a halt. “Mr. Rhodes. Are you telling me you believe in happily ever after?”

Jason hooked an arm around her neck and pulled her close, kissing her head. “From this day forward, I do, Red. I absolutely do.”

acknowledgments

I
absolutely need to kick off my acknowledgments with a huge thank-you to my agent, Nicole, who when I nervously said, “I think I want to write a series about wedding planners, even though there won’t be hot guys on the cover,” she said, “Absolutely.” Which sometimes is exactly what we authors need to hear—that it’s okay to write the stories in our hearts, and the Wedding Belles series was and is firmly in my heart, demanding to be told!

Which leads me to the woman who made the whole thing possible: Elana Cohen. This is the first time Elana and I have worked together, and I just have to say, match made in heaven. The first time we spoke, it was totally a BFF situation, and then she had to go and take her Awesome a step further by being an absolutely amazing editor.

To the Pocket team, for being ridiculously good at what you do—from the cover designer to the production team to the publicity and marketing gurus, you’ve been amazing every step of the way. Thank you!

Lastly, to my readers. I love you guys. For real. Thanks for all the support!

Meet the high-powered, sexy women behind

THE WEDDING BELLES

The all-new series from
USA Today
bestselling author
Lauren Layne!

Keep reading for a sneak peek of book one,

To Have
and to Hold

Available from Pocket Books August 2016!

H
old on. Back up. Back all the way up. What do you mean you’re getting
married
?”

It was eleven p.m. on a Wednesday, and Seth Tyler was exactly where he always was these days: behind his expansive mahogany desk at the Tyler Hotel Group, suit jacket slung over the back of his ergonomic chair, tie begging to be undone, impeccably pressed white shirt cuffed at the wrists.

He raked a hand through his thick light brown hair in frustration and fixed his younger sister with his best no-nonsense glare, an approximation—like everything else he seemed to do lately—of his deceased father.

When Seth’s father dropped dead of a heart attack eight months ago, Seth had thought the hardest part about his father’s passing—other than the mourning, of course—would be taking over the family company.

Sure, Seth had been groomed for the role. He’d wanted the president and CEO title. He’d always wanted it.

Eventually.

But not yet, for God’s sake.

Seth had no problem admitting that he was a perfectionist, and he’d been bound and determined to take over the family company
his
way. The right way.

And the right way, as Seth had determined it, was spending at least a year shadowing each of the senior-level Tyler Hotel Group executives. Seth had wanted to learn every possible detail, every in and out of the business, before even thinking about taking over the reins of the Fortune 500 company.

But his father’s heart had had other plans. Mainly, up and quitting during a routine round of golf. And so, quietly, per his father’s wishes, Seth had become CEO two years ahead of schedule.

Not a day passed that Seth didn’t wish his father were still with him, but in truth, taking his place at the head of the boardroom table had been easier than Seth had anticipated. The investors hadn’t freaked out. The executive team hadn’t left in mass exodus. Even Hank’s longtime assistant, Etta, had stuck around, seemingly content to call Seth boss even as she busted his balls about not eating enough vegetables, getting enough sleep, or getting his hair cut.

But if taking over the family company was easier than Seth had expected, there was one ramification of Hank Tyler’s death that Seth hadn’t been in the least prepared for:

A wedding.

Maya Tyler inhaled a long, patient breath, as though preparing to deal with a difficult child. “Well see, marriage, Seth, is when two people fall in love and decide to spend the rest of their lives—”

“Yes, I’m aware of how marriage works,” Seth interrupted. Although, not as aware as he’d like, as it turned out. He wouldn’t be getting any firsthand knowledge of how marriage worked anytime soon.

Maya bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you of Nadia.”

Seth glanced down at his desk to avoid his sister’s too-perceptive gaze. She wasn’t wrong. He’d gotten to the point where he could go most days without thinking of his ex, but he hadn’t yet figured out how to think about marriage without hearing the incredulous laugh she’d let out when he’d gone on one knee and showed her the ring he’d spent months picking out.

“Can we not?” he said curtly.

“Don’t get pissed. It’s a wedding. You’re supposed to be happy.”

“I’m not pissed; I’m just surprised.”

That was an understatement. Seth had
not
seen this coming, and for a man who exercised precision in all things, he couldn’t say he was enjoying the shock value of Maya’s announcement. Especially not on the heels of his father’s death. A death that everyone but Seth had seen coming, because Seth had been the lone outsider on the knowledge that was his father’s longtime heart condition.

Apparently, Hank had considered his only son a control freak—had known that Seth would have stopped at nothing to try to halt death in its tracks.

His father had been, well,
right
. It was hard to admit, but if Seth had known about his father’s condition, he’d have devoted every waking hour to researching experimental treatments and the best doctors.

Hank Tyler hadn’t wanted that for his final months. Not for himself
or
for Seth.

Still, Seth resented not having the choice. Resented his father
nearly
as much as he missed him.

But he’d put that behind him. Mostly.

Hank was gone, and Maya was still here. Maya was all he had.

He had known she was dating a new guy—Neil something or other. But Seth hadn’t thought a thing about it. Maya had whipped through a constant string of casual boyfriends since high school, and other than a two-year relationship in college, they had never been serious.

And it certainly hadn’t gotten close to marriage.

What’s worse, Seth hadn’t even met this man that was apparently to be his brother-in-law.

But none of this would have mattered, not really, if Seth’s instincts hadn’t been buzzing that something was amiss with the way this was all going down. Something was off. He knew it down to his gut.

“How long have you been seeing this guy?” he asked.

Maya slumped back in the plush chair facing Seth’s desk with a groan. “Don’t do this. I
knew
you were going to do this.”

He frowned. “Do what?”

“The big brother thing,” she said.

“Hard not to, what with me being six years older and all,” Seth said.

He didn’t add that he was doubly obligated to be protective given Hank’s death just months earlier. Maya had definitely been Daddy’s Little Princess. She still got tears in her eyes every time their father’s name was mentioned.

Maya leaned forward, her pale blue eyes much like his own, although her blond hair was lighter than his, thanks to her frequent trips to the salon.

“I
love
him, Seth. I know you’re jaded these days, but Neil is exactly the type of guy we women spend our entire lives dreaming about.”

Seth bit his tongue to stop from saying that he bet Maya was exactly the type of girl that guys like Neil dreamed about, too. Young, pretty . . . and filthy rich.

Or so Neil likely thought.

The truth was, most of Maya’s money was tied up in a monthly allowance. It had been that way when Hank Tyler had been alive, and Seth’s father had stipulated that it remain that way after his death.

Technically
, Maya supported herself on the salary from the fancy art gallery where she worked part-time. But judging from the half dozen shopping bags strewn about his office right now, it was safe to say not a penny of that monthly check from their father’s estate was going into savings.

Maya wasn’t frivolous—she had a good head on her shoulders, gave plenty of time and money to charity—but she also liked pretty things and fancy dinners.

As a result, she tended to attract men who
also
liked pretty things and fancy dinners. Seth was willing to bet the new guy was no different.

It was on the tip of his tongue to beg her to reconsider—to date the guy for at least a year before taking the plunge. But then, time wasn’t always the answer, was it? He’d dated Nadia for nearly three years, and look how that had turned out.

Seth sighed at the earnest, pleading look on his sister’s face. No wonder she’d had their father wrapped around her manicured finger. The girl was good. No, not a girl, he reminded himself. Much as he thought of Maya as his baby sister, she was twenty-six now.

Old enough for him to start respecting her decisions.

“Tell me about Neil,” he said begrudgingly.

Maya grinned and clapped her hands together, launching into something about a meet-cute at the art gallery. Damn it, he
knew
he should have pushed for her to land some desk job here at the hotel group, where he could keep an eye on her.

Seth pushed back from his desk, standing as she chattered away happily, and went to the large floor-to-ceiling windows that had an unobstructed view of the iconic lights of the Empire State Building.

He did some of his best thinking when away from his desk—which meant these days he was barely thinking at all. But when he separated from the office, that was when he was really able to focus: away from email and the phone and the endless to-do lists and memos from his assistant and . . .

“—he’s
such
a good guy, Seth. He brings me flowers every day, just
because
, you know? And sweet little gifts. And anytime I mention a new restaurant I want to try, Neil manages to get reservations, like, same day . . .”

And who pays for the dinner?

Seth kept his voice easy as he turned around to face Maya. “What does he do?”

Maya’s smile froze for just a moment before it brightened again. “He wants to start his own company—one that makes art more accessible to regular people. You know, like matching up-and-coming artists with new collectors. Eventually he wants to build a mobile app and everything. He’s in investment mode right now, but—”

Ah, shit.

Seth had no problem with start-ups. Or art. But a few of Maya’s word choices caused the alarm bells in Seth’s head to ratchet up another notch:

Neil
wants
to start his own company. He
eventually
wants to build a mobile app.

And the nail in Maya’s fiancé’s coffin—he was in
investment mode
.

In Seth’s experience, a man truly in investment mode of starting his own company didn’t have the extra resources to be sending a woman flowers every day. Or buying her little gifts. And certainly not taking her out to dinner on a regular basis at all the hottest new eateries.

Seth ran a finger along the inside of his shirt collar. It did nothing to ease the tension. He tugged at the knot of his tie, loosening it just enough to flick open the top button. Laid-back wasn’t something he did often. As a thirty-two-year-old CEO of one of the largest companies in North America, he had an image to uphold.

But it was nearly midnight, and the only person to see him was his sister.

A sister who was getting married.

Fuck
.

“Seth, you have to know I hate coming to you with this kind of stuff,” Maya was saying now, her voice genuinely contrite. “I know this is all more than you wanted this soon. The responsibility of the company, plus all the logistics of Daddy’s estate. The responsibility of
me
 . . .”

Seth rubbed at the back of his neck as he sat back down in his chair and faced his sister. “You’re an adult, Maya. It’s not like I’m having to attend parent-teacher conferences.”

“I know, and I’m taking care of myself, I am, it’s just—”

“It’s just that you want your big white wedding,” he said.

Maya grinned in relief. “I have been planning it forever.”

Seth smiled back. “You forget that I was there for some of those early planning stages. I’m still not sure I forgive you for making Tinkerbell the groom while I was relegated to usher.”

“
Head
usher. And it wasn’t your fault you didn’t look as cute in a bow tie as an overweight pug. Besides, I’m happy to give you a promotion to maid of honor for the real deal,” she teased.

“We both know that Tori would kill me if I took the top spot away from her,” Seth said, referring to Maya’s longtime best friend. “Plus, teal’s not my color.” Seth knew his sister loved anything that emphasized her blue eyes and could already see the aqua-themed cornucopia that would be her wedding. He got a headache just thinking about it.

“Oh, please. You can pull off just about any color you want,” Maya said. “I hate that you got Mom’s olive complexion while I got Dad’s pasty shade of pale.”

“Buttering me up before you drop the cost of this blessed event?”

Maya pulled her bottom lip between her teeth nervously before scooting toward the edge of her chair. “It’s just, well, I have some money of my own, of course, but then Neil pointed out that if Daddy were alive—”

Seth stiffened.
Neil
pointed out, did he? Seth was liking his sister’s husband-to-be less and less.

Still, Maya brought up an undeniable point. Though Hank Tyler had left Maya plenty of money, the monthly allotment wouldn’t be enough to plan a decent cocktail party in their social set, much less a wedding.

But that wasn’t the
real
reason Seth felt himself caving.

He knew that if their father were alive, Hank would have spared no expense for his only daughter’s wedding.

And though Seth knew that no fancy flower arrangement or imported champagne could make up for the fact that their parents wouldn’t be there to walk Maya down the aisle, Seth was determined to give his sister the wedding she’d always wanted.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said gruffly. “You know I will.”

Maya made a happy squealing noise, but Seth held up a hand. “But just so we’re clear. How much are we talking?”

“Oh gosh, I don’t know yet,” Maya said. “There are so many variables. The venue, the photographer, the caterer, and the dress, of course—”

Of course.

“—but I’m sure I’ll have a better idea after this Friday.”

“What happens Friday?” Seth asked, somehow fairly certain he wasn’t going to like the answer.