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The emotions from earlier come back, welling in my throat.
“I’m so fucking pissed at you,” I say, choking on the words.
Claire pulls me into her arms. “I know.”
Five minutes later, my phone dings with a text.
Owen: Hey babe, had a great afternoon golfing with the boys. How are you? Time for a quick drink before the rehearsal?
My whole body relaxes with relief as I show it to Claire.
“He just finished golfing. See?”
She nods, her gaze still on the door to Room 447.
When it opens three minutes later, though, it’s Owen who walks out. With his hand on the lower back of his assistant Cara, who’s sporting a serious case of bed head and beard burn.
I reel, Claire putting an arm around my waist to steady me.
This can’t be happening.
Chapter Two
Ben
* * *
My buzz from the afternoon of drinking while golfing vanished the second I read Claire’s text, sent from Stella’s phone.
It’s Claire. Come to our room ASAP. 211.
I’d just gotten out of the shower when I read it, and I spent about five seconds drying off before I threw on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and ran the whole way here. If something happened to Stella...
I pound on the door, my heart in my throat. Stella’s mom Joan was sick at breakfast this morning, but my parents took her to the hospital. What if she’s taken a turn for the worst?
When the door opens, Claire stands there, her brows knitted together with concern.
“What’s wrong?”
She sighs, shakes her head and steps aside, allowing me to come into the room.
Stella’s sitting in a chair in the corner, elbows on her knees, face buried in her hands, sobbing. Owen’s on his knees in front of her, his back to us. I close my eyes, my stomach sinking.
“Did Joan pass?” I ask Claire under my breath.
She arches her brows and shakes her head. “No, Joan’s doing much better.”
I look and Stella again, and then back at Claire. “Well then what the hell’s going on?”
“Ask your fucking brother.” Claire’s tone is icy.
Stella looks up and my insides twist into knots. She’s not just crying; she’s wrecked. Her eyes are red and swollen and her expression is one of total devastation.
“Hey, Ben,” she says softly.
My brother turns to look at me over his shoulder.
“What the hell is he doing here?”
I gape at his black eye, which he didn’t have when we left the golf course an hour and a half ago. Normally Owen’s the outspoken one and I’m more the observer. This time, though, I’m already out of patience.
“What the fuck, Owen?” I demand loudly. “Who did that to you?”
My fingers twitch with the urge to find whoever gave my brother a shiner the day before his wedding and do a hell of a lot worse to them.
“I did,” Claire says, raising her hand eagerly.
My lips part. I stare at her for a second. “You?”
She’s a little blond. Maybe a hundred forty pounds, tops. And she gave my 6’4”, 225-pound brother that black eye?
Owen exhales heavily and stands up, crossing his arms.
“Fucking explain,” I bark.
He looks away.
“Own it, asshole,” Claire snaps at him. “Look your brother in the eyes and tell him what you did to her.”
What he did to her? I look from Stella to Owen, my gut churning with dread. Owen looks down at the ground and I realize this is really fucking bad.
I look at Claire, unable to wait another second. “Tell me.”
She narrows her eyes, looking eager to blacken Owen’s other eye. “Me and Stella went to his room to pick up lip balms for the gift bags and busted him fucking his slut assistant.”
A momentary wave of dizziness hits. I force an inhale, steadying myself. My brother wouldn’t do that. Not to Stella. But from everything I can see happening in this room right now...he did.
“What the fuck, Owen?” My words come out as a choked whisper.
He won’t even look at me. When I glance at Stella, her tears have dried. She looks stunned, just breathing and blinking while giving her heart a break from feeling.
Claire clears her throat, approaching Stella. “Whatever you want me and Ben to do as far as the rehearsal, you just tell us and it’s done, okay?”
Owen scowls at her. “Claire, this isn’t your wedding. Stop putting yourself in charge.”
Claire laughs bitterly. “Are you fucking delusional? What wedding? You think she’s still marrying you? I will set her dress on fire before I let that happen.”
He takes a step toward her and I put an arm out, stopping him. When he looks at me, I shake my head.
“You weren’t even invited here, Owen,” Claire continues. “You shoved your way into our room when I tried to keep you out because Stella didn’t want to see you.”
“She’s my fiancée.”
“Not anymore, you piece of shit.”
“Okay, stop.” I put a palm out and they both look at me. “Both of you keep your mouths shut for the next five minutes. There’s only one person in this room I want to hear from and that’s Stella.”
