the aisle. He turned beet red but didn’t break his stare. He mouthed, What’s wrong?
Shaking my head, I mouthed back, My parents, and made a choking gesture on my neck.
He laughed.
“Are those our slides up there?” I whispered, pointing at the presentation.
He nodded. Then made the choking gesture.
Stifling a giggle, I tucked my hair behind my ears and went back to watching the presentation, staring intently at the financial projections, wondering if Nolan had a girlfriend here or back home.
“I have to ask, why are you wearing that shirt?” I whispered.
He leaned toward me. “You like it?”
I shrugged. It was a nice, black button-down. It fit him. But it wasn’t very Nolan. I’d grown fond of his signature workwear. The shirts that he bought because he thought I liked them.
“I wore black because if something went wrong today, it would be my funeral. And I was mad at you so I picked a shirt I knew you’d hate,” he said with a sly grin.
A mic squawk interrupted us. “If I could take a moment of your time, I’d like to thank Nolan for making sure the A/V worked and the slides in the presentation looked good.” A smattering of clapping filled the room. Ian scanned the crowd and gestured for Nolan to stand. “He’s been working hard, and this guy is going places. He’s got the MBA brains and, of course, the MacKenzie genetics.” He pointed to the back of the room. “There are leftover croissants and cookies from the morning’s board meeting. Help yourselves.”
Dozens of dudes streamed to the back of the room to snag some free food. I noticed most of the executive team walk over to Nolan, thanking him for his prep work on the board meeting. All these higher-ups, fawning over an intern. The CEO’s nephew. And Nolan looking so comfortable with all of it. Shaking hands. Smiling. Joking around. Bitterness washed over me as this breed of people whom I felt so different from carried on like they were some exclusive club I had no business being part of.
Rage flared inside me as I stormed out of the room. Was I angry that they were like this? Or was I angry at myself for wishing I was part of it?
Maybe both.
Chapter Fourteen
“Can you help me button this?” Jane padded out of the fitting room and beelined over to the three-way mirror. Candace and I exchanged looks. We played rock, paper, scissors while Jane checked her teeth for lipstick smudges.
One, two, three, rock.
Candace was paper.
Damn it.
I stood up from the bench and Candace, seated right next to me, went down with a thud thanks to the unstable furniture. Sit down gently, Melody, lest you catapult your pregnant best friend into the ceiling fan.
Jane lifted her hair so I could fasten the buttons, and there were approximately fifty of them. Fuck. Each loop fit tightly over its corresponding satin button, which meant it took about a minute to button five of them. The skin on my fingertips chafed as I carefully pushed each button through its delicate ivory satin loop counterpart. Please, God, don’t let me misalign them!
As I started working on fastening button number six, Jane glanced at her reflection and said, “I don’t like this dress. Get me out of this ugly thing.” And so the unbuttoning process began, and it took just as long to undo.
She held up a stark white dress with long-sleeved lace and double the number of buttons in the back. It also had a train the length of a football field.
“That one won’t show off your yoga arms,” I said. Candace looked up from her phone and nodded.
Jane had already gotten in the gown and had almost pulled it up to her chest. She paused for a second and nodded at me. The dress fell back to the floor and she kicked it away.
The next dress was a simple halter, with a bunch of shiny, sparkly shit on the top half of the bodice. But don’t get me wrong, I loved shiny, sparkly shit. This gown was old Hollywood glamorous, in the way that the Miss Universe pageant dresses were gorgeous. The diamondlike crystal sequins on the top looked even better when Jane put the dress on. Oh my, we had a winner.
This dress had 90 percent fewer buttons down the back than that other one, and the bustle in the back unhooked easily so the train was easy to maneuver. This was the dress. After three weekends of bridal