A Beaumont Christmas Wedding

“Tomorrow, then,” she said.

“I look forward to it.” He gave her a tight smile before he turned away. Just as she was shutting the door, he turned back. “Whitney,” he said again in that same deep, confident and—she hoped—sincere voice. “It truly is a pleasure to meet you.”

Then he was gone.

She shut the door.

Heavens. It was going to be a very interesting two weeks.

* * *

“So,” Whitney began as they passed streetlights decorated like candy canes. The drive had, thus far, been quiet. “Who’s on the guest list again?”

“The Beaumonts,” Jo said with a sigh. “Hardwick Beaumont’s four ex-wives—”

“Four?”

Jo nodded as she tapped on the steering wheel. “All nine of Phillip’s siblings and half siblings will be there, although only the four he actually grew up with are in the wedding—Chadwick, Matthew, Frances and Byron.”

Whitney whistled. “That’s a lot of kids.” Part of why she’d loved doing the show was that, for the first time, she’d felt as though she’d had a family, one with brothers and sisters and parents who cared about her. Even if it were all just pretend, it was still better than being the only child Jade Maddox focused on with a laserlike intensity.

But ten kids? Dang.

“And that doesn’t count the illegitimate ones,” Jo said in a conspiratorial tone. “Phillip says they know of three, but there could be more. The youngest is...nineteen, I think.”

As much as she hated gossip... “Seriously? Did that man not know about condoms?”

“Didn’t care,” Jo said. “Between you and me, Hardwick Beaumont was an old-fashioned misogynist. Women were solely there for his entertainment. Anything else that happened was their problem, not his.”

“Sounds like a real jerk.”

“I understand he was a hell of a businessman, but...yeah. On the whole, his kids aren’t that bad. Chadwick’s a tough nut to crack, but his wife, Serena, balances him out really well. Phillip’s... Well, Phillip’s Phillip.” She grinned one of those private grins that made Whitney blush. “Matthew can come on a bit strong but really, he’s a good guy. He’s just wound a bit tight. Very concerned with the family’s image. It’s like...he wants everything to be perfect.”

“I noticed.” Whitney knew she was talking about the coming-on-strong part, but her brain immediately veered back to when she’d stumbled into his arms. His strong arms.

And then there was the conversation they’d had—the private one. The one that could have been flirting. And the way he’d said her name...

“We’re really sorry about last night,” Jo repeated for about the fifteenth time.

“No worries,” Whitney hurried to say. “He apologized.”

“Matthew is...very good at what he does. He just needs to lighten up a little bit. Have some fun.”

She wondered at that. Would fun be a part of this? The dinner had said no. But the conversation after? She had no idea. If only she weren’t so woefully out of practice at flirting.

“I can still drop out,” she said. “If that’ll make it simpler.”

Jo laughed—not an awkward sound, but one that was truly humorous. “You’re kidding, right? Did I mention the ex-wives? You know who else is going to be here?”

“No...”

“The crown prince of Belgravitas.”

“You’re kidding, right?” God, she hoped Jo was kidding. She didn’t want to make a fool of herself in front of honest-to-God royalty.

“Nope. His wife, the princess Susanna, used to date Phillip.”

“Get out.”

“I’m serious. Drake—the rapper—will be there, as well. He and Phillip are friends. Jay Z and Beyoncé had a scheduling conflict, but—”

“Seriously?” It wasn’t as though she didn’t know that Phillip Beaumont was a famous guy—all those commercials, all those stories about parties he hosted at music festivals—but this was crazy.

“If you drop out,” Jo went on, “who on earth am I going to get to replace you? Out of the two hundred people who’ll be at the wedding and the six hundred who’ll be at the reception, you know how many I invited? My parents, my grandma Lina, my uncle Larry and aunt Penny, and my parents’ neighbors. Eleven people. That’s it. That’s all I have. And you.”

Whitney didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to do this, not after last night. But Jo was one of her few friends. Someone who didn’t care about Whitney Wildz or Growing Up Wildz or even that horrible Christmas album she’d put out, Whitney Wildz Sings Christmas, Yo.

She didn’t want to disappoint her friend.

“Honestly,” Jo said, “there’s going to be so many egos on display that I doubt people will even realize who you are. Don’t take that the wrong way.”

“I won’t,” Whitney said with a smile. She could do this. She could pull off normal for a few weeks. She couldn’t compete with that guest list. She was just the maid of honor. Who would notice her, anyway? Besides Matthew, that was...

“And you’re right. It won’t be like that last fund-raiser.”

“Exactly,” Jo said, sounding encouraging. “You were the headliner there—of course people were watching you. Matthew only acted like he did because he’s a perfectionist. I truly believe you’ll be fine.” She pulled into a parking lot. “It’ll be fine.”

“All right,” Whitney agreed. She didn’t quite believe the sentiment but she couldn’t disappoint Jo. “It will be fine.”

“Good.”

They got out. Whitney stared at the facade of the Bridal Collection. This was it. Once she was in the dress, there was no backing out.

Oh, who was she kidding? There was no backing out anyway. Jo was right. They were the kind of people who didn’t have huge social circles or celebrities on speed dial. They were horse people. She and Jo got along only because they both loved animals and they both had changed their ways.

“You’re really having a wedding with Grammy winners and crown princes?”

“Yup,” Jo said, shaking her head. “Honestly, though, it’s not the over-the-top wedding that matters. It’s the marriage. Besides,” she added as they went inside, “David Guetta is going to be doing the music for the reception. How cool is that?”

“Pretty cool,” Whitney agreed. She didn’t recognize the name, but then, why would she? She wasn’t famous anymore.

Maybe Jo was right. No one would care about her. She’d managed to stay out of the headlines for almost three years, after all—that was a lifetime in today’s 24/7 news cycle. In that time, there’d been other former teen stars who’d grabbed much bigger headlines for much more scandalous reasons.

They walked into the boutique to find Matthew pacing between rows of frothy white dresses and decorations that were probably supposed to be Christmas trees but really looked more as though someone had dipped pipe cleaners in glitter. The whole place was so bright it made her eyes hurt.

Matthew—wearing dark gray trousers and a button-up shirt with a red tie under his deep green sweater—was so out of place that she couldn’t not look at him. She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but he looked even better today than he had the other night. As she appreciated all the goodness that was Matthew Beaumont, he looked up from his phone.

Their eyes met, and her breath caught in her throat. The warmth in his eyes, the curve to his lips, the arch in his eyebrow—heat flooded Whitney’s cheeks. Was he happy to see her? Or was she misreading the signals?