The Billionaire's Forever (8 page)

She pulled it into a low ponytail. "A bun would be pretty." She released it. "Or something half up and half down?"

Megan tapped a finger on her chin. "How about if you did something with braids or twists with all of it down?"

I gave her a skeptical look.

"Just go with it." Megan looked to Naomi. "I'm seeing two braids on each side sweeping to the back and soft curls flowing down her back."

Naomi turned to me, narrowing her eyes as she studied me, like she was picturing it before she nodded, slowly, then more enthusiastically. "It'll be beautiful!"

I still wasn't completely sold, but I figured anything would be better than the frizzy mess I had at the moment.

"I'll give you two some time alone," Naomi said, releasing her hold on my hair and stepping to the side. "Do you need anything before I gather the things for tonight?"

I shook my head and she and Megan said their goodbyes before we were in the room alone.

"Private island, servants--you're living the life, Lay," she teased, green eyes glimmering.

"My heads still spinning," I laughed, pulling up a chair and collapsing with a sigh. "I can't believe I'm getting married tonight." I bit my lip, the tears coming back. "And my best friend in the world won't be there."

It was almost ironic in the worst possible way. With every headline about the event the press coined ‘The Whitmore Affair’ I winced, pretty much praying for something to happen and put a stop to it. Eloping with Jacob was something I didn't even think was an option--and the rueful look on Megan's face was enough to remind me that running away with the man of my dreams did have a price.

I pulled at a fuzzy curl, not looking at the screen because it was a sure fire bet that I would start sobbing uncontrollably.

"Looks like I'm gonna break my promise."

"What promise?" she sniffled.

"You beside me on my wedding day," I said softly, a tear breaking free and dashing onto my cheek.

"Look at me, Leila."

I swept the tear away and brought my eyes up to her tear splotched face.

"I
am
gonna be beside you."

I made a face. "Yeah, yeah--in spirit."

"You see that white box over near the rack? On the little bookshelf?"

I slid back from the desk and went to the bookcase, a single white box with an ivory bow on it sitting on top of a leather bound copy of
Great Expectations
.

I picked it up and lifted the lid and let out a tiny gasp, my heart swelling in my chest. Inside on a bed of cotton was a circle of gold links, a thin strip of white and blush fabric wrapped around the length of it.

I took it out, looping it around my wrist. "Megan...this is gorgeous."

"I'm a pretty big fan of it myself."

I'd been ready to stick my tongue out at her until I glared at the screen and saw her holding up her own wrist. She was wearing the same bracelet.

My whole face tingled with emotion as I brought my hand to my mouth, not even bothering to pretend my face wasn't melting. "It's...like...the..."

"Cutest friendship bracelet ever?" She finished in between tears of her own.

I nodded, looking down at it again, then back at her. "Not the same as you being here, but this means more to me than I can even say."

She used her t-shirt to wipe her eyes. "You're gonna be absolutely gorgeous."

I chewed on my bottom lip. "Yeah?"

"Hell yeah." She pulled her hair up, her face going serious. "I've already informed Jacob that billionaire or not I will seriously injure him if he breaks your heart."

"Is that right?" I laughed, sitting back down.

She gave me a solemn nod before bursting into laughter. "I better go get ready for school. Call me the minute you're back in the States, okay?"

I gave her a salute and stared at the blank screen for a few minutes after she signed off before admiring the bracelet. Wiping a few happy tears that swept down my cheek, I went back to the rack where my dress hung.

The dress I'd wear when I became Mrs. Whitmore.

****

I stood in front of the full length mirror and I could barely recognize myself. My eyes swept up from the floor, over the glossy layers of the chiffon, fingers guiding the way until I stopped at the sash, inhaling as Naomi did a slow circle around me, tucking and smoothing.

“It’s really happening,” I said softly, butterflies beating in my stomach. My cheeks flushed and my hands were clammy with sweat. “I’m really getting married.” I paused at my lips, almost bringing my hand to my mouth before I realized I would have smudged the beautiful job Naomi had done. All the joy and excitement I felt came through the glow of my cheeks. My brown eyes were enhanced and rich. My lips were lush with just the right amount of gloss to make me tremble as I wondered what it would be like to kiss him after our vows were exchanged.

To be his wife.

I felt the tears come back and Naomi clucked her tongue with disapproval. “No crying! You’ll mess up my work,” she chided, but not even her frown could hide the hint of a smile. She came back toward me with a small bunch of tropical pink flowers. “Hibiscus for your hair.”

I turned back to the mirror, lowering myself so the petite woman had better access to my hair. I couldn’t get over how she made the braids work with my curls without me looking like a hot mess. She’d parted the front of my hair into four sections and after taming the wiry bunches, braided each into a fishtail. Then she connected each strand and pinned it towards the back. When she finished, my hair was sleek in the front, with the braids acting as a headband with a few free tendrils drifting down my shoulders. The back was conditioned and springy instead of frizzy and poofy. She was right about how it would bring together casual and sleek. It captured the island’s relaxed vibe but the order and soft curls made it sophisticated.

I stood still as she pinned the flowers strategically, giving me a pop of color that brought the whole look together. When she finished, she stood back.

“What do you think?”

I turned back to the mirror, finding new things to love. “It looks amazing.” My fingers hovered above the flowers. “Everything is so perfect.”

She studied me for a minute, crossing her arms. “There’s one thing left to do. A call to make--but I only want you to make it if you want to, not out of a feeling of obligation or duty.”

My brow furrowed as I peered at her in the mirror. “What?”

She came back forward, her blue silver eyes on my hair as she fussed over a curl.

“Most people that come here are trying to escape.” Her painted features cracked slightly, her lips trembling, eyes fluttering rapidly like she was holding back tears. “This place can make you feel like there is no world outside the trees, the beaches, the water.” She was looking into the mirror, but I could tell it wasn’t her reflection that she saw. She was a million miles away, replaying her own story. I tilted my head to the side, studying the pretty girl who should have been pledging some sorority, breaking hearts, writing papers on Marx and cramming for tests. Instead, she was the personal assistant and stylist to the rich vacationers and brides that cycled through on the island.

She must have realized I was watching her because she gave her head a shake and pulled on a bright smile that managed to bypass her eyes. “I overheard you and your friend and I got the impression that your mother and mother-in-law were stressing you out about the wedding.”

Now that I was sitting there, millions of miles away, all of that drama seemed overblown. I blushed, dropping my gaze to my lap. “I guess all mother’s are overbearing, kinda comes with the territory.”

“Not all mothers.”

My eyes flickered up and the smile Naomi wore dimmed.

“Anyway, your friend told me to apologize for her, but your mother found out she’d been in contact with you and told her to give you a message. Your mother wants to speak to you before the ceremony.” She bit her lip guiltily. “I probably should have had this conversation with you before I did the makeup. She gave me a worried look. “You could always call her later. Or not at all. It’s up to you.”

I peered at he house phone, feeling the tension knot in my chest. Was she going to yell at me for leaving the country without a word? Despite her gung-ho attitude for me finally doing what made me happy, there was no denying she had a tendency to want me to assert myself on her terms. I had a sinking suspicion she wouldn’t have pushed me to speak up for myself if she knew it would result in the bride and groom running away to the Caribbean.

Naomi swiped the phone. “We can totally do it after then--”

“Wait.”

I wrung my hands and remembered the moment in the car when Mom was vulnerable and told me that she felt left out. That she just wanted to be a part of my day. She could be a bit much and sometimes she made me want to pull my hair out, but she was still my mother and I loved her.

I took the phone and Naomi left the room without another word, pulling the door closed with a muted click.

I dialed the island code and plunked out my mother’s number, bringing the phone to my ear. It rang countless times and I held my breath, sure I’d hear the voicemail. Be let off the hook.

I gripped the armrest as the rings stopped and I heard her voice. “Hello?”

“Mom?”

The line went quiet, and I almost took it away from my ear to see if it was still connected.

“Hi sweetheart,” she said finally, her voice unsure. “How are you?”

Tears built in my eyes and I was overcome with emotion. “I’m getting married.”

“That’s what I hear.” she chuckled. Neither one of us said anything for a moment and I just listened to her breathe, picturing her standing next to the wall in the kitchen, twirling the phone cord around her finger.

“I never meant to push you about the wedding, Leila.”

My heart clenched into a fist. “You didn’t?”

“I just couldn’t stand that woman railroading you with the ceremony,” she continued. She let out another sigh, one full of sadness of regret. “I tried to help and I ended up railroading you too.”

“It’s okay, Mom,” I said weakly. “Really.”

“No it’s not. I’m kinda overbearing.” She snorted. “Hell, I’m being overbearing now and won’t even let you finish a sentence.” She was quiet, giving me the stage to finally speak, but I wasn’t sure what to say.

“When you were little, you used to come to me and tell me all about how the girls in your class picked on you.”

I sat back in my chair, a frown pulling the sides of my mouth downward. A childhood of bullying and my mother’s ‘turn the other cheek’ response was the last thing I wanted to think about.

“It broke my heart to see how hurt you were. To see you doubting yourself and wondering if what those little monsters said was true. And I debated how to tell you to handle them.”

Her response had always been pacifist, sticks and stones and whatever. The kind of ‘Just ignore them’ approach of someone that never had to deal with bullies attacking them, day in and day out.

I was about to cry all over again, and not tears of happiness.

This call was a huge mistake.
“Mom, I should probably--”

“I should have told you to fight.”

My mouth fell open. “W-What?”

“Not beat them down, because that would have opened up a whole new world of problems. I’d be lying if I said I’d get no satisfaction at ringing their skinny little necks though.” She cleared her throat, getting worked up.

It made my face burn warm, a smile creeping in to replace the frown. She hadn’t just shrugged it off. She cared, all of this time.

“I should have told you to stand up for yourself,” she continued. ‘To look them right in the face and tell them that you were beautiful and kind and someday, you were going to do amazing things. Like finish top in your high school and college graduating classes with a full schedule of clubs and honor societies under your belt. That you’d get your dream job and work with actresses like Rachel Laraby and save the lives of young stars who were as lost as you once were. That someday you’d fall in love with a billionaire and his love for you would be so great that it shone in every picture.”