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Road Trip with the Best Man
by Sophie Pembroke
CHAPTER ONE
DAWN FEATHERINGTON STARED down the aisle at the perfect floral arrangements tied to each row of chairs set out on the grass. The string quartet was playing Pachelbel’s Canon—again—the officiant smiling serenely at the foot of the pagoda steps. The late-afternoon sun shone down on the manicured lawns of the Californian coastal mansion Justin’s mother had insisted would be the perfect venue for the two hundred and fifty
guests they needed to invite, lighting up the delicate white ribbons and lace strung around the pagoda.
Everything looked perfect. Until she turned her attention to the expectant guests, all waiting slightly less patiently than they had been twenty minutes ago, and felt her stomach twist.
Because the only thing missing now was the groom.
Dawn ducked back behind the screens that the venue staff had put in place to keep the bridal party’s arrival a secret until the last moment. Behind her, her four sisters whispered amongst themselves, their rose-pink silk bridesmaid dresses rustling with them. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but then she didn’t really need to.
Can you believe this is happening again?
No. They were wrong. Justin loved her, he wanted to marry her. He’d hated even having to spend last night in a different hotel—although he’d insisted they had to, for tradition’s sake. He’d be here any moment. Probably.
Dawn bit back a sigh. It wasn’t as if this exact thing had happened before, anyway—whatever her sisters were whispering. She’d never got quite as far as the altar with any of the others. They’d all called it off before it reached this point.
Two broken engagements—one at the rehearsal dinner, but that still wasn’t the actual altar, right?—three long-term cohabiting relationships that had never even got as far as the ring and now Justin. Forty minutes late for his own wedding.
It wouldn’t be quite so bad if every single one of her boyfriends hadn’t gone on to marry someone else within twelve to eighteen months. Including, in one particularly soul-destroying case, marrying her own sister.
‘The Dry Run.’ That was what her sisters called her. Dawn was the woman that guys tried out settling down with before they picked the woman they actually wanted to spend the rest of their lives with. And for some reason that woman was never Dawn.
But Justin was different. Wasn’t he?
From the moment they’d first met, she’d felt it. She’d been at a work event, one held at an estate not unlike this one, with vineyards stretching back from the gleaming white house. She’d been standing on the terrace, looking out at the sunset, when he’d approached her and made some comment about the hosts that she could barely remember. All she had taken in was his smile and his charm. They’d talked all evening—well, okay, mostly he’d talked, but he had so many interesting things to say! Then, the next day, he’d sent flowers and a note to her office, asking her to meet him at some ridiculously exclusive bar across town.
She went, and the rest was history. They’d announced their engagement four months later and, now, here they were.
