Superfan (Brooklyn #3)(55)

I cross to my carryon bag and zip it open. “Oh, here we go.” There’s a small quilted bag, and it contains two necklaces and three pairs of earrings.

Heidi picks up a necklace and makes a happy noise. “You must have a great stylist. This is from a designer I could never get near, let alone afford.”

“People send me things to wear,” I admit. “And when I go on tour, a stylist steps in to put all those clothes together. But that’s more like costume design than clothing. They match the sheen of the fabric to the lights and the video effects. It’s literally the job of three people to make me seem bigger and more like a star than I really am.”

“Huh.” Heidi looks more thoughtful than impressed. “And I thought my job was weird.”

“You’re the team manager’s assistant, right?” It seems like everyone I’ve met works for the team.

“Yeah, I run his office and his life.”

“Is that a lot of travel?”

“Sure is. But it lets me see more of my honey, so I’m not complaining. Their schedule during the season is brutal.”

A fresh, new worry pokes its way out of my subconscious and scurries to the forefront of my brain. Even if my magical vacation with Silas was the start of something big, how would I ever see him? We both have strange jobs.

“Now let me see…” Heidi squints at the dress. “Which eye palette goes best with this?”

“I wouldn’t know a palette if it bit me in the backside. I just radiate incompetence, don’t I?”

“Not at all,” Heidi argues. “You radiate indifference. That’s not the same thing. Hold this up to your face so I can see how it plays with your olive skin tone.”

I do it, and Heidi smiles. “Perfect! I’ll hitch the fairy dust to the genius pony and be right with you after you shower.”

“Don’t spend too much time on me,” I caution her. “It’s not like I’m the bride.”

“Not this time, anyway,” she says cheerfully.

As if me getting married didn’t sound as unlikely as taking a trip to the moon.





“Hold still. Last time, I promise.”

I close my eyes and wait while she strokes something onto my brow line.

“Ladies.” There’s a tap on the door. We’re in Heidi’s room, which is twice the size of mine. “Let’s roll.” Jason prods through the door.

“One sec!” Heidi calls.

“You said that ten minutes ago! Walking in late to the big boss’s wedding is not a good look on you.”

“We’re totally ready!” Heidi calls, sitting back and admiring her work. “Let’s go! This is going to be great.”

I stand up and slip my feet into my shoes. In the living room, Silas is looking out the window. He turns my way, and then those green eyes widen. He gives me a onceover and a slow, sexy smile. Then he presses his lips together, like there’s something he needs to hold in, because it’s not for everyone’s ears.

Nobody has ever looked at me like that before. Like I’m half of an important secret.

It takes me a long moment and a slow blink to notice what he’s wearing. “Is that a seersucker suit?” In pink?

“Of course.” Still smiling, he smooths a hand over a jacket that looks like something you’d see at the Kentucky Derby. “Perfect for warm weather.”

“And for looking like a geezer,” his roommate snarks.

“You look adorable,” I argue, walking toward him. “Like a Southern gentleman.”

“And you two match!” Heidi squeals. “I’m all amazement.”

“Whereas I feel a little nauseated,” Jason mutters.

“Let’s go!” Heidi chirps. “Weren’t you in a big fat hurry?” She slaps his butt and scoots out the door ahead of him.

Silas gives me one more longing gaze, lingering particularly on my cleavage and then down to my bare legs. “How did I get so lucky to have you on my arm tonight? Love your dress.”

“Do you?” I’m not sure it’s my dress he’s admiring.

“Mm-hmm. It will look great on the floor later.” He leans in, and his lips sweep down my cheekbone.

“This wedding starts in four minutes,” Jason says from outside.

“All right.” With a sigh, Silas takes my hand. “Let’s go sit through the stuffy parts so we can get to the carousing that comes later.”

We walk out the door, hand in hand. And until this moment I don’t think I ever knew what being part of a couple was meant to feel like.





Apparently, a billionaire’s private island home comes equipped with a ballroom seating two hundred people on prim white chairs. The room is also filled with tropical flowers in pinks and oranges. It’s gorgeous. Flower petals line the sides of the aisle, too.

Piano music plays while the mother of the bride proceeds down the aisle on the arm of her son-in-law. After she sits, our gazes swing to the front of the room, where a rotund officiant appears. His white collar sets off his ebony skin as he walks, chin high, to step behind the flower-covered altar. He smiles happily and beckons to Nate and the best man, who enter in light-grey suits.

As the music changes, two hundred heads turn to look up the aisle.