He's a cynic. She's a romantic. One deal, one wedding, and one gigantic secret stand between them.
**
Harper Lane wants to believe in true love. After her parents split, she began photographing evidence of it. Couples holding hands. Valentine's Day...
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Harper stood at the top of the stone steps.
She wasn't sure how she'd made it to the evening wedding reception; the day had disappeared in a blur of confetti and congratulations. Diana and David had been married in the church attached to Huntingdon Estate — a little stone building — and Diana had been so nervous that she'd almost fainted. Harper had spent most of the ceremony running around, desperately looking for a cup of water that hadn't been blessed by a bishop or pulled directly from the river.
But they'd made it through.
Diana had given beautiful vows. David had made a joke about loving Diana despite her taste in terrible music ("Who listens to Oasis?"). And Griffin hadn't exploded anything.
All in all, a success.
Now, Harper looked down at the reception; tealights floated around the white marquee, twinkling like fireflies. Violin music swelled, competing with the sound of tinkling glasses, laughter, and the howl of the wind. There was a storm coming.
She spotted Cass first. The other girl was browsing the dessert table, wearing a periwinkle number with a slit up the thigh that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else. Cass, however, looked like a Grecian goddess; even her blonde hair was done up with golden clips.
"Lane!" Cass looked up as she approached. "You look smashing."
"As do you."
"Seriously." Cass tugged on the strap of Harper's dress. "Where did you get this? No, wait, I already know."
"Diana," they said together.
Harper smiled; her stepmother had brought the dress from London, and it was something they could finally agree upon: a golden dress with thin straps and a skirt that flowed like liquid candlelight. She thought of what her Mom used to say, about running through the stars.
Tonight was a night for that.
Cass held up a pastry. "Fancy a strawberry tart?"
"Always," Harper said. "Have you seen—?"
"Hale?" Cass finished, and Harper must have looked surprised because she snorted. "Oh come on, Lane, give me some credit. You two make eyes at each other all the time. The boys might be clueless, but I'm not."
Harper took a bite. "Alisdair knows, actually. He sort of... walked in on us."
Cass whistled. "Yikes."
"Exactly."
"So Dalton knows?" Cass asked. "And he hasn't told the others?" Harper shook her head, and Cass frowned. "Listen, it's obviously up to you, but I've known the boys for a very long time. If Griffin hears it from someone else, he'll be crushed."
Harper polished off her pastry. She hadn't missed the fact that Cass had used Griffin's first name, although now hardly seemed the time to point it out. "They really don't keep secrets from each other?"
