The Switch (12 page)

Marion stared at him, speechless. Finally,
when it seemed like someone had to say something, she spoke. “Okay,
never mind the whole ‘cure-for-kink’ delusion you’ve got happening,
here. What in god’s name made you think – made you assume, that
you’d have to be ‘normal’ to have a chance with me?”

“I don’t know, all right? All I knew was, if
I ever risked our friendship for something more, I wanted it to be
perfect. I didn’t want to lose you,” he added lamely.

She considered him for a moment before
snorting and punching his arm. “Dumbass.”

He jabbed her in the ribs in reply before
throwing his arm around her shoulders. Same as always.

After a long silence of staring out at the
gradually paling sky, Marion spoke again.

“I’m not saying no.”

“Ugh.
Why did we come to this freakshow, again?”

Well, I came because Will was invited and
asked me to be his date
, thought Emmaline.
You, on the other
hand, came out of some deep-seated need to be an ugly, hateful
bitch.

“You didn’t want Corbin to suffer alone,”
Emm reminded Rosaline, swallowing what she really wanted to
say.

Not that Corbin seemed to be suffering at
all. In fact, he appeared to have accepted Grayson’s marriage to
Marion McKellan full-stride, and was now making his way to the
microphone for his best-man’s speech.

“Thank God,” Rosaline said too loudly.
“Maybe the end is in sight and we can finally get out of here.”

“If you need to leave now, we can drive
Corbin home,” Will offered, all warmth and innocence.

Rose made an incredulous sound. “And leave
him here with all of… of them?” She motioned to the clusters of
unfamiliar guests situated closer to the bride and groom table. “I
don’t think so.”

Emmaline indulged in a long look at the
group of what could only be Marion’s guests. Not even Grayson
seemed to fit in with the gathering of ultra-sophisticated, almost
unnaturally beautiful people. She could sort of understand Rose’s
paranoia, that without her leashing presence, Corbin might find his
way home with one of the sleek, model-perfect women. However, she
somehow doubted Corbin stood a chance with any of them.

It was a nice change, seeing Rosaline
Prescott outclassed for once.

Her thoughts derailed as her gaze snagged on
a pair of dark eyes. They held her for a long, smoldering moment
before creasing in blatant appreciation. Her stomach did a slow
flip as the owner of those eyes smiled lazily and raised his glass
to her.

His name was Reese. She knew that much from
the wedding program - he’d officiated the ceremony. Reese Black, to
go with his black hair, all-black suit, and sooty black eyelashes.
Not ‘father’ Reese, or ‘pastor’ Black, thankfully. She’d made it
her business to find out if she was going to hell for ogling a man
of the cloth. Tall, broad-shouldered, and exotic, but not holy, he
was merely a close friend of both Marion and Grayson. He was also
out of her league, if she was looking to be in anyone’s league,
which she was not.

Reese’s smile widened as his attention
turned to Emmaline’s left. At the same time, Will’s hand tightened
ever so slightly on the curve of her shoulder. She glanced over at
her date just in time to catch him looking away from Reese, his
face slightly red.

Fantastic
, Emmaline thought sourly.
Obviously she wasn’t the only one captivated by Tall, Dark, and
Devastating. Not that Will stood a chance, either. Or, if he did,
he’d never act on it. He didn’t have the luxury of Grayson’s
independent wealth. And, being an only child, he was doubly
beholden to his family. His family, which consisted of a long line
of the most uptight, traditional conservatives in the state.

A loud thump, followed by the amplified
clearing of a throat, drew everyone’s attention to the podium at
the head of the bridal table.

Rosaline smirked and settled back into chair
expectantly. “This’ll be good,” she said.

Will shifted in his seat, his frame going
tense. Even Emmaline felt a catch of dread. Corbin was famous for
the unexpected - a trait he had yet to outgrow. And while none of
them were quite as close-knit as they’d been in high school and
college, this wedding was still a shock to the remains of their
social system.

“Marion McKellan? Really, Gray?” Corbin
began.

Rose snorted.

“I must have said those words a hundred
times or more in the course of our friendship,” Corbin continued.
“But not once did you ever sway in your conviction, your
friendship, your loyalty, to this darkly beautiful outsider.”

On Emmaline’s left, Will relaxed. His
tension, however, seemed to bleed over to her right, filling Rose’s
frame. “He’s drunk,” she gritted.

“Most of you probably aren’t aware of this,
but Gray and I - well, Marion too, partly - we grew up together in
a pretty exclusive world. Marion came along later, showing up at
our high school one day with her - pardon my language -
‘half-blood’ looks and Irish accent, wearing ripped jeans and a
t-shirt. She might as well have painted a giant target on her back.
But even then, the girls were all jealous of her and the boys were
all intimidated by her. Except Gray. Which of course made everyone
hate her even more.”

Corbin paused and gave a little nervous
chuckle. Awkwardness hung over the room so thick, even Marion’s
guests looked dubious. As for the happy couple, they traded bemused
looks before Grayson pulled his bride closer. Something in
Emmaline’s chest wilted in longing at the clear affection and
adoration between them.

“Anyway, so I don’t go off and offend the
entire room, my point to all this is, Marion - I’m sorry. You
didn’t deserve the crap we gave you back then, or even six months
ago. We might never be best friends, and I doubt the Beldenbrook
Debutantes will ever offer you an honorary membership. But I’ve
seen how Grayson feels for you - anyone with a pair of eyes can see
how much he loves you. And since you two got together, I’ve never
seen him more happy. Or more in general, which I’m sure his sister
appreciates. And that’s more than enough for me. May today be the
least happy, least loving day in your marriage to come.” He raised
his glass and waited for the room to do the same before adding,
“Also, a toast to Will Averson, for being the first man to beat me
in a wager.”

As Corbin leaned over to bro-hug Grayson and
kiss Marion on the cheek, Rosaline downed her glass of champagne in
one graceless swallow.

“Wager?” Emm asked Will.

Will gave her that wry half-grin that always
did things to her insides. “I called it years ago, actually. Corbin
was certain Grayson would end up with a supermodel.”

“And Peter?” She took a sip of
champagne.

“Oh, he made a half-assed guess that Grayson
was actually a closet homosexual.”

Emmaline choked. Rose, however, let out a
laugh. “Now, that I would believe. Marion as a beard makes total
sense.”

“Now, now. You said you’d play nice,
darling,” Corbin said, sliding into his seat beside Rosaline.

“I said I’d play nice. Not that I’d be nice.
I hope you brushed your teeth after kissing her,” Rose said with a
pout.

Corbin sighed. “It really is a shame Pete
couldn’t make it. At least you’d have someone to share your
bitchiness with.”

Rather than taking offense, Rose just
smirked. “I doubt it. Chloe has him good and leashed, and she
practically worships Marion since that horrid outfit she showed up
in for Halloween. She'd have probably come alone, had us girls been
sent our own invitations."

Emmaline’s head was beginning to pound.
“Excuse me,” she said, pulling away from the table. At Will’s
questioning look, she added, “Restroom. And air.”

There was never enough air, however.

Pressing a damp paper towel to the back of
her neck, Emmaline sighed and leaned over the railing of some
blessedly overlooked veranda. The throbbing in her left temple had
eased, but she was in no hurry to return to the reception.

Between Rose's nonstop
cattiness, Corbin's bizarre and awkward attempt at diplomacy, and
her own stupid inability to let go of her feelings for a man who
only wanted to 'pretend-date', all Emmaline really wanted was to go
home and hide. Preferably between the pages of a good biography. Or
maybe one of her old fantasy favorites. Either that or get sucked
into a nice, long round of Halo. Anything to take her mind off the
hopeless situation that was Will Averson. And anything that was
the 
opposite
 of the 'Beldenbrook Debs,' as Corbin had put
it.

"They're cutting the cake," rumbled a deep
voice from behind her, causing her to jump.

Her stomach did a small flip as she turned
to see the voice's owner was none other than Reese Black. Broad
shoulders leaning against the french doors like some kind of poster
boy for sin in a tuxedo, his imperfect lips curved into a knowing
smirk. How long had he been standing there, she wondered?

"Your date is already looking for you," he
continued when she said nothing. "Since I found you first, though,
maybe I could claim a spot on your dance card for later?"

'
Dance card'
? It was obviously a jab
at the whole debutante thing. Emmaline bristled.

"Maybe," she said coolly.

"Maybe," he repeated, amusement lacing his
tone.

Eyes narrowing, Emmaline opened her mouth,
but her retort died as the door opened behind Reese.

"Emm...?" Will's voice faltered briefly as
he caught sight of the gorgeous man standing between them.

"Found," said Reese, turning. "I don't
believe we've been introduced. Reese Black." He held out a hand and
gave Will a smile that caused an unexpected twinge of jealousy to
flare in Emmaline's chest.

Oh, get a
grip,
 she thought, rolling her
eyes.

"William Averson," Will replied. "And I see
you've met my date, Emmaline Fellows."

At the sound of her last name, Emmaline
cringed inwardly, bracing herself for the inevitable connection,
the questions and exclamations about her famous actor and director
father, Anthony Fellows. She'd inherited his eyes, hair, and
height, making the relation impossible to hide once the last name
was mentioned. Not that she was ashamed - she adored her dad. But
she loathed the attention.

"Will Averson the
third
? As in Averson
Network and Communications?" Reese clasped Will on the shoulder,
still holding their handshake. "Now, that is
fascinating."

Emmaline's jaw actually dropped as the two
turned away from her, Reese guiding Will back into the reception
hall.

"Dance with me."

The cold irritation eased a little at Will's
request. Rather than a DJ or some annoying wedding band, Grayson
and Marion had arranged a small chamber ensemble for music. Which
meant ballroom dancing - something Emm and Will had been doing
together for years.

"Are you okay?" he murmured as his hands
took their familiar place and they stepped into the music.

"Fine," she replied, relaxing into his
touch. She didn't want to talk, didn't want to think. "Just dance."
Within the confines of his arms and the lilting waltz, she could at
least pretend that 'they' were real. And Will, god love him, would
indulge her for as long as she wished.

They had just finished a second foxtrot when
Emmaline saw him approach.

"You two certainly make a handsome couple
out here," Reese said with too-perfect charm. "May I cut in for one
dance, however?"

Something unfamiliar flickered across
William's face before he released her. "If the lady agrees, of
course."

"Of course." Reese smirked, his gaze sliding
over to Emmaline.

She was about to decline when the next piece
of music began. A tango. One she recognized and knew was
particularly challenging, if one was to actually tango to it. It'd
be worth it to see this smug, irresistible bastard stumble.

"I'd be delighted," she drawled, unable to
keep a cat-like curl from her lips.

She couldn't have been more wrong.

Infinite thanks to my friends and family
who have been so supportive of this whole writing endeavor. To my
writerly friends, who repeatedly nudged me out of the corner and
into this direction, who hold my hand or wield the catwhip whenever
it’s needed - we stick together, yeah? Thank you.

To my husband, for nodding and smiling even
when it doesn’t make much sense, and for encouraging me past the
angst and disorganization to keep going.

And to Mom, for teaching me to never stop
imagining or reading.

C.C. Denham,
or Christine Denham, is a Jill-of-many-trades and sufferer of Too
Many Interests. When she is not writing or reading, she can often
be found at or in a piano, wheeling around on rollerblades, playing
video games, wading in creeks with her husband and dog, or roasting
the perfect pull of espresso beans. She loves coffee, dark
chocolate, lemons, and capsaicin.

You can find C.C. on the web at:

http://www.ccdenham.net/

http://twitter.com/CC_Denham

http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/ccdenham

The Switch Copyright © 2013 C.C. Denham

Edited by A.C. Torgerson

Cover art Copyright © 2013 Christine
Denham