“Does Pete know this?”
Ryan kissed my hand. “I called him a couple of days ago. It’s all arranged. Just remember how this goes. We need to keep ours completely exclusive and private.”
“Maldives,” Mike murmured.
Ryan gave him a nod in agreement.
The outside of St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church was surrounded by a small mob. My heart sank. Our worst fears were coming true. Ryan squeezed my hand.
Mike held the door open for us. Marie was the second person out, blocking the photographers’ prying cameras.
Ryan and I had made it a few feet toward the church steps when he paused and turned us around. As if we were at any other public appearance, Ryan and I posed for the press.
We turned, smiled, and gave them what they all so desperately wanted. Except that Ryan did not give out any autographs.
He tried to speak over the frenzy. “We are here to celebrate the wedding of dear friends.
I hope you give them the courtesy of your respect and privacy today. Thank you.” Inside the church, I had a private moment with Pete, which caused a few tears of happiness to fall from my eyes. We’d been through hell and back, enduring the ugly side of life together.
Marie walked down the aisle first. I could see she only had eyes for Mike, who didn’t know Pete from Adam, but who had willingly stepped up to be a groomsman to make this day special for them.
I took a step through the threshold, imagining making this walk on my day.
I saw Ryan draw in a quick breath; his smile was breathtaking, standing tall and proud near the altar, watching every step I took with nothing but love in his eyes.
I wanted to marry him now more than anything.
Chapter 24Face-off In the five months following Pete and Tammy’s wedding, we’d been to California, Portugal, England, Louisiana, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and back to England while Ryan was filming the third Seaside.
Ryan’s planning and scheming had paid off. While he spent twelve- or even fourteen-hour days filming, I was happy and content spending time with my best friend. I had long ago come to know that Mike’s salary was paid mostly by the studios since personal security was written into Ryan’s contracts and it was part of his appearance rider and now that rider also included a security team.
Marie had often joke with me that I was paying her to be my friend.
Marie and I kept ourselves very busy, planning on everything from home décor for the enormous house that was waiting for the spring thaw to be built to naming the production company Ryan and I wanted to start.
Spending time hanging out with the cast and crew of Seaside also made the days blur and blend into one hell of a good time. I had taken over managing Ryan’s affairs, working like a personal assistant on most days. I didn’t mind; our hectic schedule and active social calendar kept me out of trouble.
I even found a new friend in Ryan’s lawyer, Len Bainbridge, when he helped me clear up the nearly $1 million estate that the sweet Jimmy Pop left behind. The Children’s Hospital of Los Angeles was very grateful when Ryan and I presented them with a check in Jimmy Pop’s memory.
That was a wonderful day.
Everything was going tremendously well at Mitchell’s Pub, too. Pete had hired several new staff members to support the growing demand for Tammy’s gourmet dishes that she was whipping up in the kitchen. Maggie, the elderly lady who owned the bakery opposite my pub—the one that Ryan had escaped through the first day that we met—was looking to retire and sell her store as well.
Tammy had hired several people and was hoping to run the catering out of the bakery.
So we were working on that plan.
Marie joked that I could run a multimillion-dollar corporation from my cell phone and laptop. I was starting to agree with her.
But now we were in Manhattan, getting ready to kick off the first day of press tours for the premiere of Ryan’s film Thousand Miles. We’d landed in New York yesterday and everything was going rather smoothly until we arrived for his press interviews and I spotted “them.” Suddenly my hands were sweaty, my senses were on high alert, it was hard to swallow, and I wished I was wielding a baseball bat—or better yet, Marie’s fancy black gun.
Ryan noticed them about twenty seconds after I did. His eyes narrowed as he assessed them, cursed, then he frowned down at me. I had no doubt that he’d drag me back to our hotel and force me to stay there if he had his choice.
I wrapped my hand into his, entwining our fingers into an unbreakable bond. “No way. We do this together.”
He was furious. “Figures Kyle would be here with her. I really want to hit him.” I didn’t take my eyes off the doorway where they were standing. “Yeah? You take him. I’ve got her.”