Tempting Her Best Friend(46)
She whipped her head forward and stared at her friend with her brows pinched. Had the man not been listening? “He would never. Dillon would sooner cut off his arm than do anything to hurt…” Her voice trailed off as something in her brain unlocked and dozens of memories and thoughts flooded into the center, all tiny pieces of a larger puzzle that began to take shape.
“Oh my God. He would never hurt me,” she said under her breath. Then louder with more conviction, “He would never hurt me.”
A sly grin spread over Trent’s face as he crossed his arms in satisfaction. “Glad to hear it.”
“Oh my God.” How many times was she going to say that? “I’m such an idiot. Trent, what the hell am I doing?”
“I think it’s called having an epiphany.”
Alyssa grabbed him by the shoulders hoping it would help him understand her run-on sentences. “Dillon is about to get on a plane for home, and then he’s leaving town for I don’t know how long because I told him I don’t feel the same for him as he does me. But I lied. I lied to myself and I lied to him. I do love him; I always have. And now I know he loves me, too, and oh my God I’m such an idiot!” Her hand flew to her forehead as she called his cell, praying he’d pick up. But his voicemail greeting kicked on and her stomach dropped. “He turned his phone off. Shit! I need to talk to him. What am I going to do?”
Trent started crossing to the door. “You’re going to get to him before he gets on the plane. Let’s go.”
It took a few seconds for his meaning to sink in, but it still didn’t make sense. “Getting to him before his plane leaves isn’t going to matter unless you know how to get us through security.” She waited for his “oh, right,” response, but he didn’t so much as flinch at the mention of the complication. A spark of hope flared in her chest. “Can you?”
His eyebrow hitched arrogantly as if to scold her for even doubting him. Holding the door open, he said, “Honey, as far as you’re concerned, this is Oz, and I’m the motherfucking Wizard.”
Chapter Eleven
Alyssa and Trent burst through the main doors of the Masquerade to the bustling semicircular drive. She looked to where the taxi line was three rows deep. Her stomach dropped. “We’ll never make it if we have to wait that long.”
“Gimme a sec to see what I have to work with,” he said as he scanned the area while Alyssa tried like hell not to tug on his sleeve like an impatient child. “Bingo.”
Grabbing her hand, he pulled her toward an old pink Cadillac convertible the length of a yacht. An Elvis impersonator, who was just as much a “late model” as the car, wearing a white jumpsuit bedazzled to the gills that stretched uncomfortably over his ample belly sat behind the wheel. A Marilyn Monroe in her iconic white halter dress opened the passenger door just as Alyssa and Trent practically barreled into the side of the car.
The couple’s initial surprise turned to elation as they granted Trent with the kind of enthusiastic handshake and hug a long-lost friend received. Trent made quickie introductions. Either he didn’t think she could retain new info in her anxious condition—which was probably accurate—or they’d legally changed their names to Elvis and Marilyn. After Trent gave them the Cliff’s Notes version of her predicament, they insisted on giving them a ride to the airport before Trent had the chance to ask, beg, or grovel on Alyssa’s behalf.
As she climbed into the back and pulled the yards of fabric in behind her, relief and hope flooded her system. Thirty seconds later that feeling was replaced by nausea as Elvis navigated the crazy Vegas traffic with the all the finesse of a stunt driver.
The only thing that kept her from detailing the white leather with her lunch was Marilyn’s game of 20 Questions. The woman asked about her and Dillon and the events that led up to the need for a NASCAR escort to the airport. Alyssa was thankful for the distraction and found the couple’s sincerity and comedic back-and-forth endearing. That, and the fact that Trent had known them for years, helped her feel at ease with them, despite Elvis’s driving.
Fifteen harrowing minutes later they pulled up to the departing terminal and jumped out of the car. Elvis tossed the keys to a waiting valet and they rushed through the automatic sliding glass doors. They’d no sooner crossed the threshold when they came to an abrupt stop. Hundreds of eyes were now staring at them as though someone had announced their arrival. Alyssa imagined the stories that would be told for years to come. So, Elvis, Marilyn Monroe, a bride, and a gay guy walk into the Vegas airport… It sounded like a bad joke.