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“Champagne time!” Delilah burst out of the kitchen carrying a bottle in one hand and some glasses in the other. “Who’s ready to toast West and Harper?”
As they all rushed toward Delilah to grab a glass, Tate glanced around the room in search of Wren, but she was nowhere to be found. Concerned, he took off down the hall and stopped in front of the bathroom, rapping on the closed door three times, but there was no response.
He pressed his ear against the door, listening for a sign of life. Anything to indicate Wren was in there.
But he heard nothing.
“Wren.” He grabbed hold of the doorknob and gave it a shake, but it was locked. “You all right?”
“Can’t a girl pee in peace?” she wailed from within the bathroom.
He paused in his rattling the doorknob, feeling like a jackass. “Sorry. I’ll leave you al—”
The door swung open, Wren standing before him, her eyes watery, tears streaking down her cheeks. She reached for him, taking his hand and yanking him into the bathroom before she slammed the door and turned the lock back into place.
“Don’t leave,” she murmured, reminding him of the night in the bar, when she’d looked so sad and a little drunk, grabbing hold of him and basically begging him not to go.
She was doing it again, only this time she was desperately trying to hold it together and having a hell of a time. He didn’t like it. At all. Helpless crying chicks weren’t his scene, and he glanced over his shoulder at the closed door, wondering how the hell he could get out of this and not piss her off or upset her more.
“Don’t ask if I’m all right.” Her voice was shaky, and she ran her index fingers beneath her eyes at the same time, catching a few tears and smeared mascara. “I’m fine. I promise.”
Wren didn’t look fine—emotionally fine, that was. Oh, she was fine as hell in that pretty dress with those bare shoulders and that cleavage, but otherwise, she seemed a little unstable.
Not that he was going to point that out.
Was she drunk? She’d had at least one glass of wine at dinner, but maybe she had more than he realized.
“It just happened so fast, you know? They’ve only been seeing each other for a few months and now they’re getting married. I’m happy for them, I swear. It’s just . . . I . . . ” She pressed her lips together as if she needed to contain a sob and closed her eyes, shaking her head with a sniff.
Tate felt the panic rising within him. He didn’t know what to do, what to say, how to comfort her. So he just remained quiet and let her talk, let her get it out.
“Everyone’s paired off, you know? They’re doing something with their lives, they have someone they love, and they’re moving forward. While I’m still here, stuck. Though I shouldn’t make this about me.” She leaned against the counter and tilted her head back, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m acting incredibly selfish, running off to cry like a baby in the bathroom. I should be out there toasting them and talking bridesmaid dresses with Delilah.”
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He moved toward her, nearly stepping on the hem of her dress. The bathroom was tiny, and he felt like he could hardly move without accidentally touching her. Not that touching Wren was ever an accident. “They’ll understand.”
“No, they won’t.” She looked at him, her smile weak, her entire demeanor so incredibly vulnerable he was tempted to wrap her up in his arms and never let her go. “Let me wash my face and then we’ll go back out.”
Tate frowned. “You want me to go first?” The others might think they were up to no good, alone in the bathroom.
She shook her head. “Hold my hand when we walk out there. Let’s give them the show they want, okay?”
No way was he going to protest. “Whatever you want, Dove.” Whatever made her happy.
For once, she didn’t protest or give him shit about the bird name. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Because I like you.” Reaching out, he touched her cheek with the back of his fingers. Her eyes slid closed, and she sighed, the sound so full of longing it touched something deep within him. Something he wanted to explore further.
With Wren.
She said nothing in reply. Just turned on the sink and splashed water on her cheeks, before wiping them with a hand towel. When she faced him, she squared her shoulders, trying her best to put on a brave front. “Let’s go.”
He unlocked the door, took her hand, and they exited the bathroom.
Together.
WREN WAS A bitch, a terrible friend and sister who couldn’t support the people she loved during a time when they needed her the most. She’d run and hid in the bathroom like a jealous woman, crying into her hands, letting the guilt eat at her as she tried her best to fight against her confused emotions.
She really hoped her face wasn’t too red from the pitiful crying. She’d mentally told herself to get over it. But get over . . . what exactly? She was thrilled West just asked Harper to marry him. One of her best friends would now be a member of her family. Life couldn’t get any better than that.
