The Billionaire's Second Endeavour

JOY

I looked at the carved signboard hung on the door. Bridal Suite. If I didn’t say goodbye now, there wouldn’t be an appropriate time left, I reminded myself. Looking left to right, I walked in, twisting the knob with my shaking hands.

The room was large with comparatively less furniture than I’d expected—all sofas and cushions, shifted to one side of the room, making enough space for the bride to move around freely.

I was surprised to see my best friend, Aubrey Evans, alone in the room on her big day. There should’ve been hoards of people helping her with her dress. But here she was, standing in front of the mirror and her hand constantly stroking her belly—something she’d often done when she was nervous.

She was ready. The sheath wedding dress clung to her slender body, skimming down and falling straight to the floor below her hips.

“Don’t tell me you feel like shitting right now.” A smile tugged at her lips as I stepped in, smiling as brightly as I could. I teased, “That would be a disaster, given your dress.”

There is something new about Aubrey, a spark in her eyes that I haven't seen before. She laughs out while shaking her head.

"You look so pretty. I feel like crying but, fuck, I can't ruin my makeup." I rubbed the corners of my eyes dramatically to which she pinched my arm.

"I can't believe I'm doing this... I'm devastated right now."

“Oh, that’s not good.” I creased my brows. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna make the classic Runaway Bride move.”

“Pfft!” She swayed her hand over her face and added, “Are you kidding me? I’m doing this...but I’m just scared.”

Aubrey was one of those people who had always been certain about what they want in life. And being the walking mess that I was, I’d always admired that about her. But for the first time, she actually seemed perplexed.

"Well, don't be. As dramatic as it sounds you’ve loved him since the moment you met him,” I said with a hint of convivial mockery, to which she giggled.

“How quickly it’s been two years. Time really flies by.”

“Well, I’m surprised that you guys managed to fool around for that long. The looks you both used to give each other with longing and all that bullshit, used to make me want to puke... It was cute though, cute to see an ass like Jordan struggling. But I’m glad he figured his shit out."

There was a slight change visible in Aubrey’s expressions, sadness taking over her brown eyes. She looked down at her feet, her white heels.

"I just... It's the best day of my life and Dad’s not even here. He didn’t even bother to call me and congratulate me. Once.” Her voice choked and she cleared her throat. “I tried to talk him into walking me down the aisle...but he didn't answer. I don't know why I care."

"You care because he's your dad.” I knew there was nothing in the world I could’ve said to make her feel better and I felt awfully angry at myself because of that. “I don't know how to console you on this. He cares for you but he has a shitty way of showing it."

"As if he ever tries to show it! He thinks I am happy without him. How do I convince him that it's anything but?"

"You don't. He'll come around, eventually."

"Still not the same, J. Fathers are supposed to be there for their daughter's big day. It's not like he's dead"—Aubrey grunted, then shook her head—"I just want him to know that there's still time to save our relationship. We can still work on it and everything will be fine if we just try."

"What's done is done, Aubs. Don't let it ruin your day before it begins."

She nodded, projecting a fake smile. She knew it is never worked in front of me but she tried to mask her grief anyway. "You know what? You're right. I mustn't."

"You know, I’m more worried about myself. You'll be off with your husband while I'll be here in my PJs every weekend, binge-watching Friends"—I muttered with utter despair—"a loner, always and forever."

She laughed out. "That's not entirely a bad thing, to be honest."

"Wow, really insensitive way to comfort your best friend, Aubs!"

"This is my way of telling you that you need a guy."

I didn’t need a guy. The last time I checked, I was too old for silly entitlements like boyfriend-girlfriend—soon to be twenty-nine. I clicked my tongue and crossed my arms over my chest, raising a brow.

"I need a man."

Aubrey jumped with excitement and cursed at herself as she realized she was not in her casual outfits at the moment. "You do need a man. Should I play matchmaker, in case you're too tired of doing it yourself?"

My eyes widened and I pushed my palms out to Aubrey’s face. "No no, I am fine. I can’t deal with men like Jordan, which is what your choices in men look like: narcissistic, self-centred and over-possessive."

"Hey, don't hate on my husband," Aubrey drawled, pouting her lips.

"Aren't all best friends supposed to? It's a universal law." I wanted to laugh but sighed instead. “Now that you’re married, I’m sure Dad will start with matchmaking, which is worse than yours.”

“He wants to see you happy.”

I was sure he did. But at this moment, I couldn’t help but reminisce about the olden days with Aubrey, sitting in a cafe late at night after work and making fun of our bosses together.

A shrill voice followed through the door with a mild knock. "Aubrey. Joyce. May I come in?"

I unlocked the door, acknowledging the voice.

Cassandra, Jordan's mother walked in with a blue box in her hand, her elegant peach-coloured gown dragging behind her as she walked and her golden hair braided and tied into a bun. Her presence was beyond intimidating.

"Thank you, Cassy," Aubrey spoke, clearing her throat.

Cassy smiled, opening the box and pulled out a vintage hairpin with a few white and blue stones attached to it.

"This is for you." Taking it in her hand, Cassy placed the box by the table. "This has been in the Sykes' family through generations. This was given to me by my mother-in-law when I entered the household and now...I give it to you.”

Aubrey mumbled, "It's beautiful."

“I got it polished and replaced the stones with new ones.” Cassy clasped the hairpin in Aubrey's lustrous brown hair, over the veil knotted to her bun. “I also have another surprise.”

Cassy gave me a side glance with a grin that made me press my brow. She jerked her head toward the door, making both me and Aubrey turn. I watched as a familiar figure walked in, his hands inside the pocket of his black pants. My jaw dropped. Honestly, I had not expected this but my happiness was beyond comparison.

Standing by the door was none other than Bill Evans, Aubrey’s dad, dressed in a black tuxedo. His black and white hair is combed to the side. He flashed a smile to me before drifting his eyes toward his daughter.

I whirled around to steal a glance at Aubrey, only to see her in tears. It broke my heart and mended it all the same. I observed the beautiful moment, slowly stepping back while Uncle Bill moved past me toward Aubrey and wrapped his hands around her.

"I will see you around then," I said, walking out of the room and closed the door behind me.

This moment was going to be very precious for Aubrey. I was desperate to see Uncle Bill walking her down the aisle. He wanted to as it seemed from his voice when I’d called him last night, even though he was uncertain at that time.

This was the best pre-wedding gift Aubrey had received.

***

VINCE

I stared at myself through the mirror. My black hair gelled and pushed back, the collar of my white shirt pinned and the expensive Hackett tuxedo properly arranged over my body. All that was left was the bow tie to complete the look.

"Are you nervous?" I asked Jordan, the tall figure beside me with dirty blonde hair and an overly excited look on his face.

Perfection is everything—had always been our motto although there'd been times when we both wished that it wasn't.

"Shouldn't I be? I am about to get married."

“You’re getting a fucking leash is what you’re doing,” I mocked.

Jordan was happy as it seemed by the look on his face, his eyes twinkling. But the only thing that bugged me was: how is his life going to change after this?

Both Jordan and I had had all the fun life could offer. Promiscuity had been our nature, though it had died down since we were both in our early thirties. At least his had died down.

I wondered if he was truly sure and wasn't hastily making the decision. It was a feeling that dawned on me on the thoughts of my past mistakes. Love is cruel, I’d grown to believe. Not everyone can have their happily ever after. Like me.

I was, now, the richest yet most promiscuous bachelor of New York. My success came quicker when I was lost. It was my determination that had shown me the path to where I was currently. Someone had once said that I wasn't good enough for love so I bested in everything that covered up that lacking part.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" My voice was filled with concern.

Jordan kept staring at me for the longest time before putting on a phlegmatic smile and answered, "I have never been so damn sure about anything my entire life, Vi." His answer was confident, leaving me with no doubts. I smiled as his happiness was all I’d ever wished for. "You should now start looking for a woman for yourself too," Jordan added.

I coughed and glanced at Jordan through the mirror with a raised brow. He knew why this topic always knocked the air out of my lungs. I was okay with being a sex debauched man but not okay with a ring on my finger and a leash around my neck.

"You are kidding, right? Not everybody has a good love fortune like you, pal. Me? I have tested mine. Even the fucking universe has stated I should stay away from that atrocity people call love."

I laughed, hoping Jordan would too but he remained silent.

"You know it would be better for you and your—"

I cleared my throat as loudly as possible before he could use his only weapon of emotional torture against me. "Jordy, it’s your wedding. Let's not talk about my life and for once, focus on yours instead. I’d grant you the honour of lecturing me some other day."

We headed out laughing among ourselves and stood near the stage, greeting the other two of the other best men. We all took our positions behind Jordan when the music began playing.

I was too caught in the moment, a reverie of emotions surging in me, when my eyes landed on a woman, hovering toward the aisle. Her movements were too elegant yet too hasty to have missed.

But that wasn’t why I noticed her. There was something awfully familiar about her that reminded me of someone I’d known in the past. I keenly watched her sit by the bride’s aisle beside a boy I’d seen talking to Jordan once.

Thinking that Jordan might know, I leaned toward him and asked, "Who's that woman in the front of Aubrey’s aisle?"

"The one in the maroon dress?” Seeing me nod, he answered, “That is Aubrey's best friend. Joyce."

My jaw tightened at the realization: I knew her. I fucking knew her. Those curious, devilishly alluring eyes, I recalled—green with flecks of gold. They were the best pair of eyes I’d ever seen. I didn’t know her as Joyce.

I remembered her as the woman who lived up to the name she had introduced herself with—Joy.