Proposing to Preston (The Winslow Brothers, #2)(57)

She wasn’t sure how she managed it, but she offered Jax a confident, beaming smile. “The Olympian. Of course.”

“And he has a gaggle of gorgeous brothers.”

Yes, he does, thought Elise, sitting up a little straighter. And one of them, technically, belongs to me.

“And as far as I know? They’re still single,” said Jax, winking at Elise. “I swear you’ll have a blast and it’ll be the perfect opportunity to do research!”

And get reacquainted with my husband, she thought, shock giving way to excitement.

Elise had kept that smile frozen on her face as Gene and Jax had finalized the details, but her mind raced with questions and possibilities and ignored warnings, her heart thundering with hope, hope, blessed hope.

***

A week later, she’d signed the contract attaching her to The Philly Story, packed up her bungalow, broken her lease, and shipped all of her belongings to a storage facility outside of Philadelphia. Returning to L.A. wasn’t part of the plan.

She only had one plan, and reviewed it in her head as she looked out the window as the plane taxied to the waiting gate at the Philadelphia International Airport: Say you’re sorry.

Ask for forgiveness.

Talk.

Be honest.

Love.

Make room.

Make it work.

Eight steps. Eight steps that she would follow no matter what. Eight steps that would filet open her heart for Preston to take or turn away. Eight steps that would either restore her marriage or end in divorce.

Eight steps that suddenly held the balance of her entire life’s happiness.





Chapter 14


Say You’re Sorry


When the Winslows hosted large parties, Westerly was often called “the palace” by visiting friends and neighbors—possibly because Olivia Winslow was British, but more likely because no expense was spared and no detail overlooked. Every celebration was fit for royalty.

The light music of glasses clinking together was just a tone above the five-piece string ensemble that played Broadway tunes only loud enough to be heard, not overtake conversation. Tuxedo-clad waiters passed hot h’ors devours and waitresses in black cocktail dresses offered bite-sized desserts on gleaming silver trays to the three hundred or so guests in attendance.

At the entrance to Westerly’s grand ballroom, Alex and Jessica received their guests, flanked on one side by Preston’s mother, Olivia, and Brooks, and on the other side by Tom and Eleanora English, Alex’s parents. Preston didn’t envy them the long hour they’d stood there with perma-smiles frozen to their faces as they graciously shook hands with people. Briefly remembering his own impromptu engagement made his heart tighten and clutch—not that he’d wanted an event as lavish as tonight, but he’d never even gotten the chance to introduce his fiancée to his family.

Preston clenched his jaw, sharply ending his train of thought before it went any further, turning away from his little sister and back to the conversation between Christopher and the Atwell cousins. He had warmly greeted Beth and Constance the moment they walked into the ballroom this evening, and Beth had stayed close to Preston ever since. He wasn’t unhappy to see her, and he didn’t mind acting as her escort.

Frankly, Beth looked great. Her light blonde hair had been cut since the last time he saw her, and the short style complimented her gamine face. He’d always gotten along with Beth—she wasn’t especially fascinating to him and his attraction to her wasn’t off-the-charts, but she was amusing and she had a good heart. If Preston was actually in the market for a girlfriend right now, Beth would be a decent choice. It wouldn’t be a high-maintenance relationship; he’d only see her on weekends, since she still lived in New York and he was based in Philly. It was certainly something to consider. Hell, he could ask her to stay over tonight and they could slide seamlessly back to the place they’d been before…before— “Pres? Help me out here! What do you think?”

Preston started, turning his glance to Christopher. “Sorry. I was miles away. What do I think about what?”

“So distracted tonight,” said Beth, taking his arm as she looked up at him with a playful grin.

“How could I not be…distracted?” he asked, letting his eyes slip suggestively down the neckline of her dress and linger before returning. The least he could do was make an effort, right?

Beth’s cheeks flushed. “Tease.”

“Pres,” said Connie, her voice annoyed, her eyes narrowed and shrewd, “Christopher needs to think bigger, don’t you think? City Controller is nothing. It’s a glorified bookkeeper. Chris has more ambition than that!”

“Ambition isn’t everything,” said Preston tightly. It certainly doesn’t always bring you happiness.

“Here, here, Pres,” said Chris, clinking his beer bottle against his older brother’s. “And being the Chief Fiscal Watchdog of Philly hardly makes me a slouch, Con.”

Connie Atwell pouted. “But you could be so much mooooore.” Suddenly her expression soured drastically. “Oh, God. Weston English. Kill me now.”

Preston looked up to see two of Alex’s brothers, Fitz and Weston English, approaching the bar beside their small group and Preston nodded to them in greeting. Bypassing the bar, the brothers headed for Preston and Christopher say hello.