Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Smoothing the skirt of my light blue, satin dress, I stare up at the mansion before me in awe. I’d doubt it was the actual wedding venue if it wasn’t for the other elegantly dressed guests and the huge, hand-painted sign that reads “Callum and Camille” on a stand outside the front door.
Nervous, I begin to doubt—yet again—why I’d agreed to attend this wedding with Julian. The word “sure” had just popped out of my mouth right after he’d asked me. I’d barely given it any thought before I’d agreed. And here I am. Standing in front of one of the most lavish events I’ve ever seen, feeling wholly out of place.
I’d convinced myself that Julian and I were simply going as colleagues. It is, somewhat, work related. I mean, Callum is also a founder of the company that runs the foundation. Julian only asked to be polite. We’re not here as … well, anything.
“Nora!” a voice calls, accompanied by the warm brush of a hand on the small of my back.
I twirl to see Julian, and a burst of butterflies flutter through my stomach. God, he looks incredible. He’s wearing a suit and tie, his hair combed back, his blue eyes twinkling. His hand on my back suddenly feels red hot, all of my attention focused on it.
But just as quickly as he’d placed it there, it’s gone. He ushers me toward the doors of the large mansion, and I follow him.
Inside, the décor is just as extravagant as what’s outside. Large chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and bouquets and floral arrangements—in the wedding colors of light blue and white—adorn practically every surface.
A waiter offers us champagne, and Julian accepts for both of us, handing me a glass. After taking a sip, he chuckles. “You look shellshocked,” he comments.
“Oh.” I shake my head. “Sorry. I’ve just never seen a wedding this …” I struggle for the right word. “Elaborate.”
“Yeah, Callum felt the need to invite pretty much all of the Seattle elite, so …” He shrugs. “And he loves an excuse to throw a good party.”
“Julian,” a deep voice says from behind us, and we both turn. A man with very similar features to Julian claps him on the back in greeting. He’s basically just a slightly taller, slightly older version of him. He has to be one of the other Mercer brothers. Is it Callum?
The man shoots me a polite but questioning look, obviously expecting to be introduced.
“Nora,” Julian says, “this is my brother Theo.”
Theo reaches out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Nora.”
“She’s the program manager at the foundation,” Julian elaborates.
Theo’s face brightens. “Oh yes, Callum had said you were working on that.” He turns to face me. “I’d been meaning to drop by the foundation ever since we started it up, but …” He throws his hands up in the air. “Alas.” He chuckles. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you. I’m so proud of how the foundation has been able to serve the Seattle community.”
Theo’s smile widens. “That’s so great to hear. Please share those ideas with Julian while he’s with you guys. We’d love to be able to incorporate them.” He nods in Julian’s direction.
Someone flags Theo’s attention, and with a nod, he’s off to mingle with a new set of guests. I stare after him in surprise. From what Theo had said, it certainly doesn’t feel like the Elena Mercer Foundation is on the chopping block. Or maybe he’s just being nice. It is a family wedding, after all. Not exactly the time to be a bearer of bad news.
Julian’s staring at me with a strange look on his face, but before he can open his mouth, we’re bombarded by a new group of guests. Friends of the brothers from high school, apparently. I’m introduced, and after that, it’s a series of random introductions until an announcement is made to head to the ceremony area outside.
Following the crowd, I step out into the backyard where an array of white chairs are laid before us. An elaborately carved arch stands at the top of the aisle, covered in florals. I follow Julian to the front row, where we sit next to Theo and an older man I assume to be their father. Glancing around, I feel self-conscious in the front row of a wedding where I haven’t even met the bride and groom. But I hardly have time to dwell on that before a quartet of violins begins playing and Callum and his groomsmen take their places beside the arch.
As a procession of bridesmaids glide down the aisle, I fix my gaze on Callum. Just like Theo, he looks similar to Julian, although slightly broader and with darker eyes. He fidgets with his cufflinks, switching his weight from foot to foot. I can’t help but smile at his nerves. The readiness for what’s to come.
When his face lights up, I turn to follow his gaze, and there is Camille Hart at the end of the aisle.
Her dress is magnificent. A cream satin with a simple tulle veil. She walks alone, gripping tightly to the bouquet of blue and white flowers in her hands. Her brown eyes sparkle with emotion, her lip quivering into a radiant smile the closer she gets.
When she reaches him, she hands her bouquet off to a bridesmaid, and Callum grips her hands tightly in his. He whispers something to her that only she can hear, and she laughs quietly. And with that, the officiant starts.
The vows are beautiful, and when they kiss, Callum grips Camille’s waist, pressing her against him in quite possibly the most passionate kiss I’ve ever seen. Hand in hand, they walk down the aisle to roaring applause, Camille waving her bouquet in the air and Callum pumping his fist and laughing.
Swept up in the emotion, I find myself clapping and laughing along, following the crowd as we’re ushered to the reception area, a large tent on the other side of the house with gorgeous tables and chairs, a large dancefloor, and twinkling lights draped between the house, the trees, and the tent.
Julian and I are offered cocktails, and I find myself laughing along with the other guests, milling around and snacking on hors d’oeurvres until Callum and Camille make their grand entrance and dinner is served, along with toasts that make everyone both laugh and cry.
I’m surprised when Julian stands up beside me, taking the microphone handed to him by the MC, and gives a rousing, embarrassing speech about Callum’s younger years. I can see him turning beet red and shaking his head while Camille laughs in delight.
When they stand to begin their first dance, they twirl across the dance floor as if they’re the only two people in the room, the music ringing in the air around them. Halfway through the song, the guests are encouraged to join in, and to my surprise, Julian stands, tugging me with him.
I look at him questioningly.
He chuckles. “It’s a wedding, Nora. You have to dance.”
I acquiesce, letting him pull me out onto the dance floor where he grasps my hand in his and reaches for my waist. His fingers send a shiver up my spine as they settle just above the curve of my hip. Looking down at me and meeting my gaze, he takes a confident step back, and I follow, swaying to the music.
Lost in those blue eyes of his, I find it harder and harder to look away. Those butterflies in my stomach are back. My entire body burns with electricity. I force my head to turn, glancing around the room. The only other couples on the dance floor seem to be real couples. Women leaning their heads on their partners’ shoulders, couples kissing softly as they sway.
“You never mentioned you had ideas for the foundation,” Julian says softly, and my attention turns back to him.
“Didn’t I?” I ask, my voice coming out quieter than I’d intended. I clear my throat.
He shakes his head. “What kind of ideas?”
I smile at him in amusement. “You want to talk work at your brother’s wedding?”
His eyes are warm. “It’s more than just work to you.”
It’s a statement, not a question. And I’m taken aback by how true it is. And not only that—he knows it’s true. He knows me. “You’re right,” I say.
“So, tell me about your ideas.” He holds me with his gaze, the other couples spinning around us.
“I … I thought we could have art shows. Like real art shows. Go all out. Champaine, people dressed up—the whole nine yards. We can showcase an emerging artist. Help them get on their feet. Maybe even showcase students. And with your connections at Mercer Dynamics, you could invite, well, wealthy people. It could be a real way to raise money for the foundation.” When I realize I’m rambling, I stop short, looking to Julian for some kind of reaction.
But to my surprise, he doesn’t seem dismissive or skeptical. He seems … intrigued.
He bites his lip in thought, his eyebrows furrowing. “That’s actually …” He chuckles, shaking his head. “That’s actually a good idea.”
I laugh, feigning insult. “You’re surprised I have a good idea?”
He smirks. “Not at all.” He steps to the side, twirling me under his arm and then pulling me back to him. The momentum sends me closer than I was before, my chest brushing softly against his, our breaths intermingling. His hand on my waist holds me close, his body heat seeping into every inch of me. My breath hitches in my throat as I gaze up at him, his eyes intense with an emotion I can’t quite identify.
Suddenly the song ends, causing couples to step back from each other, the chatter in the room slowly returning to normal. Julian holds me against his chest for a few heartbeats before the next song comes on—something upbeat and catchy. He steps back, letting go of me, the spot on my back where his hand had been suddenly cold and empty.
I take a small step back as well, glancing around. “How does a drink sound?” Julian asks, breaking the awkward tension suddenly between us.
I smile. “Perfect.”