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“No, survival before sex. So, you’re telling me that all the time I was hounding you because I wanted something from you, you were stranded?”
“Stop talking.” Humiliation washes over me.
“Is that why you were crying the other day?”
I can’t believe this guy. “Ryan, that was months ago. And not everything is because of money!”
“I know that. And I hope you know you don’t have to marry me for it? That ring sitting in my desk is yours with no strings attached.”
He didn’t give it to his new fiancée. “It’s not just money I need.” I admit
“What else do you need then?” He asks warily.
“It’s complicated. Can we get married or not?”
“I’m afraid we can’t.”
I suck in a breath and release it slowly. For months, the guy pursued me. Even bought me a fucking gigantic ring. And now it’s too late.
I just can’t seem to catch a break with bad luck and worse timing, can I?
“I’ll tell you what, Stella, I’ll try and finish here a day early and pick you up at eight or nine on Thursday, and you can tell me all about what you need.”
What’s the point? But I force a smile and agree to meet him. “Okay. I’ll see you Thursday.”
Chapter Thirteen
Stella
One Week Later
“I need you guys to leave the bridal suite right now and let me focus, or we’ll run late,” I urge Hana, Bonnie’s mom, Sabrina, and Brooke out of the room. I’ve spent the last hour styling them and am finally about to start on Bonnie.
“We’ll be swearin’ to be quiet and not disturb ya. I mean to watch me darlin’ turnin’ into a beautiful bride, Stella,” Bonnie’s mom states in a heavily accented Irish brogue.
I get the gist of what she’s saying, and so do Brooke and Sabrina, because they nod emphatically, promising not to make a peep. But I know better; they’ll make her talk, laugh, and possibly cry, and I need her face still as stone for most of the bridal makeup.
“Nope. Trust me, Hana, the effect is better when you don’t see the process. And I’m recording the process for you, okay?” I point to the ring light and tripod set up for that purpose.
Taking no more excuses, I shoo them out of the makeshift bridal suite. The wedding is in a huge conference hall at The Reed, Xavier’s beachfront hotel. The hall has a circular lobby, great for pictures and confetti. It also has several anterooms. Xavier had this remodeled into a bridal dressing room complete with mirrors and a wide counter for makeup and hair accessories.
As soon as the ladies head into the lobby and toward the main hall, I start to close the double doors to the bridal room. Then I spot Ryan coming up the wide staircase and into the lobby. He reaches the top of the stairs and turns back, holding his arm out for someone else.
I didn’t, in fact, get to see Ryan the whole week. He was stuck in Seattle for days due to a storm. He’d kept calling and texting, but I assured him I could wait until he got back. He got into New York this morning, having flown overnight. But you couldn’t tell by looking at him how stressful the past day had been for him.
I’m already moving toward him when I realize that the person he’s holding out his arm for is his date. She’s stunning. A tall and willowy brunette. Her ice-blue dress molds to her perfect curves, and her long hair tumbles down her back in soft waves.
Vanessa. Xavier’s ex.
Right, now they’re talking and smiling.
I’ve seen photos like this, but watching it play out in real-time, Ryan with another woman arm in arm is jarring.
An unpleasant and unfamiliar gnawing starts in the pit of my belly. Accompanied by a desire to tear the woman’s arms away from Ryan. I recognize the alien feeling as possessiveness. Jealousy.
What the hell is wrong with me?
He notices me from afar and immediately says something to Vanessa. She nods, continuing into the hall, while he turns and approaches me. I step out of the dressing room and close the door behind me.
