A Moment of Bliss (23 page)

T
hose were not the words she wanted to hear.

Of course he'd miss her; she would miss him. That much was so painfully clear now, she wanted to scream. What she needed him to say was . . . something more than that. She wanted the impossible.

“Maybe you could visit? Or I could visit you?” He tried to catch her gaze, his offer strained, either because he was reluctant to say it or expected her to shoot him down.

Visiting meant prolonging the inevitable. The occasional visits were scraps, and they deserved more. He did anyway.

“You work all the time,” she said.

“I can take time off. It's what, two hours to Charlotte?”

“Three.”

“Three hours. I can come to the city for a day or two.”

“So . . . visit when you have the time?” Something neither of them had. Ever. This was a ruse, a lie they were telling themselves to make it all okay. For the first time in her life, she knew a situation wasn't going to be fine and she didn't want to pretend otherwise.

“Yeah, that'd work.”

The pinched look in his eyes and the stiffness of his body told her it wouldn't.

“Or . . . what if you extended your time here? Leave on Monday. Or Tuesday. When do you absolutely have to be back?”

She could extend her stay, but then she'd still have to leave. Their time together would still have an expiration date. If they arranged to keep seeing each other, that meant commitment. And what if he asked her to stay indefinitely? She had no idea how to handle an offer for more, so for her to want him to ask was selfish and crazy.

She was a cement-mixer of emotions she didn't understand. If she couldn't understand them, how could she expect Roark to? She didn't know what she wanted, but she knew she needed him to take the first step. He couldn't count on her to navigate through territory that was completely foreign.

She'd never be capable. It had to be Roark.

And that's how she knew she was losing her mind. Complete lunacy to want him to offer himself up, when she could promise nothing in return. Even if she kept seeing him, he'd be getting a raw deal. Short term, maybe she wouldn't ruin everything. Maybe she wouldn't run him off. Long term?

She'd never had anything last very long.

Roark should never put himself out there like that, not for a wreck like her.

The only explanation for her wish was that she was worse than her mother, no better than her father, wanting everything to be all about her. The same as saying to hell with what Roark might want or deserve,
she
needed this. Him.

But she had to look beyond it. See past her own selfish need and look out for him.

A cough and a string of curses made both of them jump.

Jack stomped through the portico, toward the drive, like he was looking for someone to fight.

“Jack?” Roark got to his feet.

Jack spun around, his eyes like onyx in the moonlight. “Shit, you scared me.”

“Kind of scared us too. Everything okay?” Roark moved closer and she followed right behind him.

“Far from fucking okay. You don't happen to have a smoke and a light on you, do you?”

Roark shot Madison a confused look. She shrugged back at him, no clue what was going on. “We don't smoke.”

Jack scuffed his black boot along the cobbled part of the drive, looking a lot like he was considering kicking over a potted plant. “I used to, but Whitney wanted me to quit, so of course I did.” He forced out a laugh of pure bitterness.

“I can get you some cigarettes if it will help,” Madison offered, anything to bring back the contented guy from last night and get rid of the angry man who was here tonight.

“Nah.” Jack huffed out a breath, a white puff in the night air. “Won't fix it.”

“Fix what?”

Jack finally turned to them, stuffing his hands in his worn leather jacket. “Might as well let you know so you can be off the hook, huh?”

The signs all surged toward her, like a wave bearing down, but she pushed it back. No. That couldn't happen. Not this wedding or this couple, not to her and Roark.

“The wedding is off.” Jack cursed, dragging a hand through his hair. “Utter fucking bullshit, but it's off.”

“What?” Roark asked, as silently the truth of what she already knew broke over her.

“I want you to know I appreciate everything you've both done. Last night was . . . it's all been great.”

Screw being appreciated.

“What happened?” she asked, her voice calm while inside she stormed.

“Good damn question.” Jack flung his hands out of his jacket. “Whitney and I, we got into a stupid argument after dinner tonight. You ever get in one of those fights that you don't even know what it's about? She was pissed, but I was fine. Then, all of a sudden, she's yelling and I'm defensive, and I don't know how it got to that point. She said that was it, and there's no way we can get married.”

“Are you sure she meant it? Maybe she's just nervous,” Roark tried.

“Whitney doesn't get nervous.”

Madison would bet anything Whitney wasn't nervous, she was scared. She stepped closer. “Where is Whitney now?”

“Hell if I know. She took off. Look, it's no good going after her. This shit has happened before. We worked it out, but fuck me if it hasn't happened again.”

Madison looked back at Roark, then to Jack. “But we've seen the two of you together. It's obvious she loves you.”

“I thought so too. I knew so. But maybe Phil was right. Working together and trying to be a couple, it's too much. Maybe the new has worn off and she's sick of me. You've seen us. We don't exactly match.”

“That's bullshit.” Roark stopped him. “You might be opposites, but everything was fine until today. You have to fix this.”

She and Jack jerked around to look at him.

Jack stared hard. “You don't think I've tried? I'd still try, but you don't get it, man. She's gone. The wedding is over.”

Roark held up a hand, a clear sign he was getting ready to take over on a matter, and Madison bristled. This was her wedding and Whitney wasn't her first running bride.

“Then I'll go find her.” Roark pulled out his phone, firing off a text to god knew who. “I'm sure this can be fixed.”

Jack scrubbed at his face and cursed again. “You're not going to find her. I've tried before and failed.” He turned and stormed back into the inn.

As soon as Jack was gone, Madison turned to glare at Roark. “You can't go storming after Whitney or barking at Jack. You're not helping matters.”

“What are you talking about? I'm being proactive.”

“But you're doing it wrong.” This was her area of expertise. She understood wedding jitters and she knew the fear of forever better than anyone.

“At least I'm doing something.”

“Excuse me?” Madison raised her voice. Maybe it wasn't fair of her to be angry, but she didn't care. She had a wedding and a no-strings attached affair that were both falling apart, and right now Roark cared more about the wedding.

She pushed past him. “I don't need you swooping in to save the day on this. Just let me handle it.”

Roark stepped right back in her way. “We have a skittish bride who's running away from her relationship.”

“I know.”

“And you think you're the best person to talk to her? To convince her not to go?”

She stood a little taller to look him square in the eyes. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Whoa! I didn't mean—”

“Yes, you did. You don't think I'm good enough to talk to her, to fix this.” She wasn't blinking and she stared at him so hard her face hurt. But who the hell did he think he was? This was her wedding and her bride. She wasn't going to let him step over her.

“Madison . . .” He ran a rough hand over his hair. “You struggle to talk about your past, never mind the present. You hate commitments, so how is that going to help a reluctant bride?”

His words blew a hole through her.

“I've helped
plenty
of reluctant brides. Believe it or not, I know how to do my damn job. And I've told you more about me than I've ever told anyone. Now you throw it in my face?”

“No. That's not . . . I know you've opened up to me, and you've got no idea what it means to me. But this has to be fixed and I'm better suited to handle it.”

“You don't think I'm capable.” And it hurt more than she should've ever allowed.

“It's not that.”

“You don't think I can fix my own wedding. This is
my
wedding. My bride.”

He leaned toward her. “This is my wedding too. And it's too damn important for me to stand aside.”

“Because of some publicity?”

“It's a lot more important than some promo shots.”

“What aren't you telling me?”

“This wedding doesn't go off, and the publicity with it, Honeywilde might not make it through the winter.
I
have to fix this.”

Madison took a step back, that bit of information stunning her numb. “How could you not tell me this wedding was that important to you? That important to the resort?”

Roark stiffened. “Because it's my family and my problem. Not yours. You're leaving Sunday, remember?”

Her blood froze in her veins, the truth a cold reminder she'd so easily forgotten. This was not her family, not her family business, and these were not her people.

She was all alone.

Madison jerked her gaze away. Roark hadn't forgotten the truth, but to hell with him for keeping something that important from her after all she'd told him, then trying to step over her to take charge.

She pinched her eyes closed and counted to ten.

Thinking what they had was different, thinking that she'd found something and someone that might last . . . she'd been kidding herself. This was why she was alone; because that's all she understood and it was easier. Letting him in meant he knew what made her tick, meant he was capable of hurting her. And that's exactly what he was doing. Just like everyone else, he didn't believe in her, didn't trust her. How could he ever want her? His words were a mirror, showing her who she really was.

But she didn't have to be hurt by him, or anyone else. It wasn't so hard, not caring what he thought. Turning off her feelings was something she'd learned to do long ago. People couldn't hurt you if you didn't let them in.

She could shove Roark out of her heart before he ever got the chance to break it, and every crack in her walls, the ones he'd created with his trust and sincerity, would seal shut.

When she opened her eyes, Roark took a step back.

“Whitney won't want your help,” she told him, her tone emotionless.

“No,
you
don't want my help. You're the one who doesn't want me involved, but this isn't about you.”

“No, this is about you having to fix everything and always be in charge. Even things you have no business sticking your nose in.”

“Are you always this damn difficult?”

“Yes.” She stepped closer. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. Surprised it took you this long to notice. But then, it doesn't really matter how much of a pain in the ass I am when all we're doing is having sex for a couple of weeks and I leave on Sunday. Actually trying to deal with me or have me around longer is a whole other matter.”

“That is not—What are you talking about? You're the one who said—”

“But I guess it's a good thing you're realizing that now because this”—she pointed to the center of her chest—“is me. I'm difficult, demanding, and I will drive you crazy. Maybe I haven't yet, but eventually I would. Give me the time and I'll make you hate me. I always have.”

“Madison.” He stepped toward her, but she moved away.

“No.” She shook her head, refusing to give in to the waver threatening to shake her voice. “It's good that we got this out of the way. Now we can focus on saving this wedding.”

As soon as she got the words out, she walked away. She waited until she was out of his sight to start running. She let her legs carry her, fast as she could go, taking stairs and turning corners, eyes blurry, until she got so lost inside Honeywilde, even she didn't know where she was.

J
erking his tie off, Roark cursed his inability to find the runaway bride.

He rolled the tie up into a neat bundle and stuffed it in his pants pocket. He'd searched every nook and cranny—even the nooks of crannies—for Whitney, and Jack was right: She was gone.

He couldn't find Madison either.

He had no clue what he'd say to her or how to right whatever he'd done wrong, but if she was still at Honeywilde, she was well hidden.

Dying embers in the fireplace called to him. If he couldn't fix things with Whitney, and he damn sure couldn't fix things with Madison, the least he could do was build a fire. A fire and some coffee might help him figure out how to solve this.

After slipping off his jacket, he grabbed the poker and some choice splits of wood, and coaxed and babied the flame until it blazed anew. He left the screen off and sat in his favorite spot on the sofa.

The seat lost something without Madison beside him.

He stared into the fire, the embers glowing and tumbling together, hypnotizing him. Since he was a kid, he'd loved late-night fires, always welcoming and warm, comfort for the soul. Tonight the fire wasn't making so much as a dent in his mood.

“You mind?” Jack appeared from the far dark corner of the great room, pointing at the chair nearest the hearth.

Roark tilted his head in welcome. If he was going to give in to a moment of wallowing, he might as well not wallow alone.

Jack slumped down in the chair, laying his phone on the arm, face up so if any communication came in, he couldn't miss it. He kept his emotionless gaze on the flames and, for a guy with a tough-as-nails appearance, he looked beaten.

Roark didn't blame him. He was pretty damn broken himself.

Madison had torn off like he'd been the one to call her a demanding pain in the ass. He'd done no such thing. He'd been trying to help, only ever tried to help for the last three weeks. She'd fought him at first, but they'd gotten past that. Or so he'd thought.

He knew he had a tendency to take over, but he had no choice. If he didn't find the bride and fix this whole situation, then there'd be no wedding. If there was no wedding, there was no special press for Honeywilde. Without it, the resort's finances wouldn't survive the slower winter season.

What was he without Honeywilde? He could not lose his family's legacy. They'd have nothing. He was the leader of his family and owner of the resort. When you're in charge, you have to take charge. Madison ought to know that better than anyone.

Of course, she hadn't known just how important this wedding was to Honeywilde or why he needed to step over her to get this event back on the tracks. She hadn't known because he hadn't told her.

Roark huffed and shifted his ankle off his leg, only to cross them the other way and hold his head up with an elbow propped on the sofa arm.

He needed to think. There had to be a way to fix this without dragging everyone down with him. Screwing up and failing was something reserved for his shaky relationships with his brothers and sister. In business, he knew how to deal, how to succeed. With the people closest to him . . . it was a crapshoot.

Madison knew that too. She knew how much he regretted the way things were with his siblings. He'd mucked things up with them, and now he'd mucked things up with her. And they weren't even in a relationship.

Had to be a new record for him, ruining a good thing he didn't have.

“Glad to see I'm not the only one up at this lovely hour.” Devlin strolled in, eating a plate of leftover hors d'oeuvres.

“Why are you up?” Roark shifted again as his brother sat down.

“I'm hungry. You want?” Dev held out the plate.

Roark shook his head, but a hand suddenly appeared from over his shoulder, snatching up one of the dates.

“Don't tell me you've started having middle-of-the-night meetings too.” Trevor chomped on the date as he flopped down between the two of them. “Not that I'd mind. Can't sleep anyway; my bed's too soft after weeks of a sleeping bag.”

Devlin stopped chewing. “I should lead the night meetings, seeing how I have the most experience with insomnia.”

Roark's brothers laughed, until they looked over at him and Jack.

“Uh-oh,” Dev muttered. “What happened?”

Roark looked over, battling with the decision of what to say and how much. He didn't need them all in a panic because the bride took off. If he couldn't fix this disaster, how could they? He also didn't want to spill Jack's business out in the open.

“Roark.” Devlin said his name in the exact same tone Roark often used on him. “Don't sit there not saying shit and looking like the world has ended. Tell us.”

Madison's words came back to him. What if his family didn't want him to fix everything anymore? Maybe they did want him to trust them more. Let them help.

Maybe they wanted him to let them in, the same way he wanted Madison to let him in.

“Whitney, the bride, she's gone.” He spat out the truth before he could convince himself he had to carry this burden alone.

“What?” his brothers said in unison.

Jack groaned, rubbing at the side of his head. “She called the wedding off and ran.”

“I did look for her,” Roark told him.

“Yeah?” Jack studied the fire. “How'd that work out for you?”

He held out his empty hands and shrugged.

“Told you. Thanks for trying and all, but I did warn you.”

Damn. The man sounded like him.
Told you so.

He told people stuff all the time. Told his family what to do growing up; still tried to tell them how to function, daily.

“Does Madison know?” Devlin asked. “This is her wedding. We need to—”

“She knows,” Roark said.

“Then where is she?”

“I don't know.” He hoped he didn't look and sound as defeated as he felt.

“Oh god. What'd you do?” Dev's question was laced with weariness.

Roark could keep everything to himself, try to handle this all alone, or he could tell them the truth.

“I think I screwed things up with Madison and I don't know how to fix any of this.”

Dev set a half-eaten shrimp on his plate. “We have to find Madison. She's got to be around here somewhere, and hell, we're up. We can help you look.”

Trevor leaned forward to catch Roark's gaze. “We find Madison and I bet she could find the missing bride. Madison could convince her to at least come back and talk to sad sack over there.”

“Trevor.” Devlin buried his face in his hands.

“I'm kidding. Rock star knows I'm kidding, don't you?”

Jack looked a little stunned, but then a ghost of a smile crossed his lips. “Yeah, somehow I do.”

Trevor stared down his nose at Roark. “I mean, Madison did talk
you
into doing this wedding and letting me stay. I bet she could talk a bride into coming back around.”

“Exactly.” Dev nodded. “But first you've got fix whatever you screwed up with your woman.”

Roark blinked, unsure of how to respond.

Dev rolled his eyes. “Oh come on. Like we don't all know you're head over heels for Madison? It's obvious. We've known you your whole life and you've never been as happy as these past few weeks. Maybe you just need to find Madison and make sure
she
knows that.”

Roark kept staring at his brothers.

They were right.

In her time at the hotel, Madison's tough nature and strong will had been the perfect balance to Roark's. He enjoyed having someone who pushed him and pushed back.

And he'd told her as much, but had he told her how happy she made him? How every day was brighter, more invigorating, simply because she was there.

He'd told her plenty of other stuff. Told her the view at Honeywilde was great, that she had to use Brenda because no one was better, told her that she ought to go skinny-dipping, and that she shouldn't beat herself up for the past, that she was capable of anything.

He'd told her everything but how he really felt about her.

How strongly it gripped him when he watched her from across the room. When he'd been knocked flat with the urge to run up and grab her, and shout about how amazing she was to a world that couldn't see it. To Madison, who couldn't see it either.

He cut his gaze back to Jack, who'd gone back to staring into the fire.

Both of them were mourning the loss of the women they wanted, and sitting here doing nothing about it. Pathetic. The two of them. A rock star and a resort owner. On their asses like they'd given up.

Giving up was pointless, and he didn't do pointless.

He might not be able to fix Jack's issue, but he'd be damned if he was going to sit here and let Madison hate him without knowing the truth. All of it. The truth about Honeywilde, and how he felt about her.

He looked at his brothers, both awake, both there to support him when he didn't expect to need them so much.

Roark rose from the sofa and put his jacket back on. “Dev, Trevor. I need your help. I have to find Madison.”

There was a high probability that she didn't want him or his truths, but he had to do everything he could to make sure she knew and understood that Roark Bradley didn't give up. Not when his parents checked out, not when his siblings needed him, not on Honeywilde, and not on her.