Learning Curves - By Elyse Mady Page 0,74

outside. She looked around, terrified she’d missed him completely. Where was he?

“Leanne.”

The quiet voice in her ear made her jump and she turned, shocked, to find the man she hadn’t been able to forget standing behind her.

The elaborate chandelier in the foyer highlighted his tired face. Dark circles smudged his eyes; his jaw was covered by days-old stubble. He looked harried and strained and utterly, absolutely spectacular.

He enveloped her in his arms, squeezing her tight. In a voice barely above a whisper, he said, “God, I’ve missed you.”

She felt her throat thicken with tears and she leaned forward until their foreheads touched and they were peering into each other’s eyes. “Really?”

“You have no idea how much.” His looked at her steadily, a quiet promise in his eyes, and she felt her insides begin to coalesce in a slow, heated puddle. There was so much they needed to say, starting with the truth about her feelings for him, but this travesty of a wedding was the worst place imaginable. Nothing could be said here, in this stifling atmosphere of deceit and self-interest. It was impossible.

“Let’s get out of here,” she murmured, feeling more confident than she had in days. They could talk later. Once they were free of this tulle nightmare.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Even though she spoke in a low tone, the bride’s voice carried through the hallway. Leanne and Brandon whirled around to find Gillian striding toward them. Behind her, a look of bemusement on his face, Jeremy followed.

The mother of the bride hurried out of the reception hall, an elaborate schedule in her hands.

“Darling? What’s wrong? Everyone’s waiting for you inside,” Barb said, looking vexed at the unaccountable disruption. “It’s time for the first dance.”

Gillian ignored her mother. “What is he doing here?” she asked again. Leanne was rooted in place, and Brandon’s arm never left her, its comforting force wrapped around her waist like a protective talisman.

“I’m not sure this is something you want to discuss in front of an audience,” he warned Gillian in a rational tone, but she was too angry to care.

She flung an accusing finger at him, “Don’t you tell me what to do. You’re a stripper, for Christ’s sake,” she said, emphasizing the word for effect. “Do you think I want my wedding polluted by someone like that?” A growing crowd had started to file into the foyer, alerted to the possibility of something untoward happening by the out-of-character disappearance of the bride and groom from the reception.

Leanne didn’t flinch. She was done hiding how she felt. She wouldn’t pander or pretend or avoid confrontation any longer. Tuesday’s debacle had set her free. Her hand in Brandon’s, she turned and faced her tormenter. “You and I have very different ideas of what’s noxious, Gillian. But you don’t need to worry. He’s leaving. And so am I.” Brandon brushed a soft kiss against her hair and Leanne touched his cheek with a gentle hand before turning back to Gillian, Jeremy and the riveted guests. “You don’t need to worry about your big day being ‘polluted,’ because Brandon and I are going right now.” She tried to walk away, but Gillian, vexed at being so easily upstaged and set aside, quickly boxed her in.

“You’re just jealous,” she crowed, flashing her gaudy wedding ring so it twinkled and flashed in the light. “You can’t handle it. I’ve got everything and you’ve got nothing.”

Gillian’s accusation should have made her cringe, but instead Leanne laughed. As her confidence surged, Gillian’s barbs bounced away harmlessly. Brandon stood beside her, a warm, solid presence. He was tense with anger. She squeezed his fingers, telling him wordlessly not to worry. She wasn’t afraid anymore. Not of Gillian. And not of getting her hands dirty either. Life was dirty. The learning curve had been steep, but she was ready to apply her painful lessons in real life.

“You’re the one with nothing, Gillian,” Leanne enumerated, checking off the points on her fingertips. “No morals. No class. We both know you sabotaged my interview with the Walters committee. But here’s the thing—I don’t care anymore. In a sad, perverse sort of way, you actually helped me.”

Gillian snickered but a flash of uncertainty shadowed her eyes. “Oh, give it up. You can’t tell me you don’t care about what I—about what happened this week.”

Leanne smiled, her own face bright with tightly controlled menace. “About what you did to Brandon, threatening him and his career at the university? I won’t ever forgive