Advice from a Jilted Bride

by Rayne, Piper

  “No. But…”

  “Listen, my family isn’t going to understand me brokering a deal to bring a date to my sister’s wedding. I’m not asking you to kiss me or anything, but some affection will be necessary if I want my mom to believe that you’re a real date.”

  “You can’t tell her I’m a friend?” Nerves have my heart rate pitching a fit in my chest.

  He blows out a breath and looks out the window to the tall skyscrapers that come into view. An expression of anxiousness crosses his face. “She’ll push me toward someone else. She’s obsessed with me finding someone. There’s this woman… she’s the daughter of my dad’s friend. They usually push me toward her at these kinds of events.”

  “Are you asking me to be your fake girlfriend?”

  He bites his bottom lip. “Would it be that bad? We go to the wedding and then in a week I tell my mom we broke up.”

  “I don’t like to lie.” Which is the truth. Plus, I’m a shitty liar, but then again, I have a feeling that pretending to be Wyatt’s girlfriend might be the easiest lie ever. I’m more concerned how I’ll feel after than during.

  “Maybe you don't have to say you’re my girlfriend, just be my real date.”

  I don’t know if it’s the look of desperation in his eyes or the thought of him being directed some other woman’s way, but the word is out of my mouth before he has to make any further argument.

  “Sure.”

  He smiles over at me and grabs my thigh, squeezing. “Thank you, Brooklyn. You’re really… something,” he says and retracts his hand.

  Yeah, might as well order that stockpile of wine and Oreos because when Wyatt flies out of Lake Starlight and back to New York for good, they’ll be all that’s left to comfort me.

  * * *

  Wyatt’s condo is what I expected—black and stainless steel. There isn’t a drop of color in the place unless it’s coming from an article of clothing or a book.

  “This will be your bedroom.” He opens a door and I find more of the same. Gray walls, black bed frame, black and chrome dresser and a steel-colored comforter.

  “Just curious, you’re not actually a vampire, are you?”

  He laughs. “I like black.” He steps into the room, disposing of my bag on the chair in the corner of the room next to a big flat-screen television. “You have your own bathroom, which I already stocked with freshly washed towels.”

  “You did?”

  A sheepish look crosses his face. “Someone did… for me.”

  I roll my eyes in a playful way. I’m not sure this life would ever be for me.

  “Make yourself at home. There’s food in the fridge and pantry. I’m going to take a quick shower before the rehearsal.”

  He’s out of the room in a flash and I hear him cross the tiled floor and into a neighboring room on the other side.

  I look around and wonder where the yellow brick road is. This isn’t the Wyatt I’ve come to know. The one who brings me food. The one who says let’s walk instead of drive. The one who is happy sitting in my colorful apartment watching old reruns. I suspect that the Wyatt who lives here goes to dinner at nine at night, wakes up every morning at six to work out and then showers and puts on his suit before having his hired driver come pick him up curbside and take him to the office.

  Sitting on the bed, I fiddle with my phone. I wish I could call Reagan or Juno or Savannah so they could talk me through this. I feel like I fell for a man I didn’t even know.

  There’s too much raw truth in that statement. I’ve pushed my feelings aside for Wyatt because if I accept how I feel about him, it will make it hurt worse, but the truth is I’m going to hurt no matter what when he leaves. Maybe seeing him in his element will help because the man who lives here is not the man for me.

  Heading to the bathroom, I turn on my shower and go through my suitcase to find something to wear. I open the closet door and find a row of empty hangers. As I hang up my dresses, I wonder if I’ll look like Cinderella pre-fairy godmother when I meet all his rich friends and family.

  I shake my head. They can think whatever they want. I don’t care.

  I almost believe it.

  Thirty-One

  Wyatt

  We step out of the car and I pass the keys to the valet. Brooklyn’s jaw dropped when we took the elevator to the parking garage where my BMW was waiting. My jaw dropped before that when she stepped out of my guest bedroom wearing a stunning dress that dips low in the back, revealing all her delectable skin. I’d love to slip my hand past that hemline and elicit goose bumps along her spine. This whole platonic thing sucks.

  The doorman opens the door for us and Brooklyn thanks him stepping into the foyer. We follow directions on the small sign indicating that the rehearsal dinner is being held in the Acorn Room. The hallway is littered with men in suits and woman in dresses, but I don’t recognize one of them.

  Unease presses down on me the closer we get to the Acorn Room and I latch my hand with Brooklyn’s. She doesn’t appear to be worried and I hate the gnawing feeling growing inside of me that says she should be. The women are catty. The men flirtatious. I pray Haylee will be the sister I know she is and help Brooklyn through tonight. Then again, that’s selfish of me since it’s her big night.

  She glances over to me, her blonde shiny hair hanging down in loose waves. “Relax. I promise not to act like a small-town girl.”

  I still can’t help but wonder if she’ll be prepared for the manipulative Upper East Side crowd.

  I stop us right before we reach the door, pressing her back to the wall. “Promise me one more thing?” My fingers tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She’s so innocent. Why did I ever agree to let her see this side of my life?

  “You’ve been strung tight since we left your condo. Relax.” Her hand presses to my chest.

  It takes everything in me to not whisk her away from here to avoid being tainted by these people.

  “Whatever happens, don’t leave without me. If we get separated, seek me out.”

  She tilts her head, her usual easy-going smile on her lips. Lips I’d love to press mine to right this moment in some desperate attempt to steal a little bit of her goodness while I can have it because once I step through those doors, I’ll transform into a man she doesn’t recognize.

  “What? Why?” Her forehead wrinkles.

  “Just promise me.” I lay my hand on her cheek and she leans into my palm.

  To anyone outside of our bubble, we’re a couple in love.

  Truth is, I wish… forget it.

  Her hand covers mine on her cheek. “Okay. I promise.”

  My thumb swipes across her soft skin.

  “Can we go in now?” She giggles. Too bad I can’t take this naive girl and place her in a bottle.

  “Sure.”

  I entwine our hands and we’re about to walk into the Acorn Room, but we don’t get a chance before Veronica Adley almost bumps into Brooklyn. Not exactly the person I would’ve chosen as Brooklyn’s first encounter this evening. I would have preferred she hang with some of the nurse sharks before meeting a Great White.

  “Wyatt?” Veronica’s dark eyebrows shoot up as though it’d be a surprise to find me at my sister’s rehearsal party. She grips my shoulders and does the whole kiss from side to side in the air thing. “I’m not so sure about this beard.” Her finger and thumb grip my chin, twisting my head in either direction.

  “I like it,” I say.

  She drops her hand. Thank God.

  “You know me, I always like everything baby soft.” Her implication is clear, and Brooklyn’s red cheeks says she’s not as naive as I thought.

  “Oh.” Veronica notices my gaze dipping to my side. “You must be the date.” She puts her hand out between them and Brooklyn releases my hand to shake Veronica’s. It all appears civilized, but I know better.

  “Brooklyn Bailey.”

  “How cute,” Veronica says, looking Brooklyn’s dress over. “I could eat you up.”

&nb
sp; With her fangs. An image of Veronica wiping the blood dripping from her chin is clear in my head.

  “Thanks. I love your dress, too. You look beautiful.” Brooklyn’s compliment is genuine.

  “Thanks.” Veronica turns to me. “What about you, Wyatt? What do you think of the dress?” She runs her hands down her waist and over her hips.

  “It’s nice.”

  “Nice?” She rolls her eyes, focusing on me like Brooklyn isn’t even standing here with me. “Come on. Give me one of the good ones like you used to.”

  See what I mean about malicious? The compliment she gave Brooklyn was all done on purpose so she can make it clear there was a time when I thought Veronica was the most stunning girl I’d ever meet. Then again, I was sixteen and was easily led around by my dick. It’s seeing Brooklyn and Veronica side-by-side that I realize, at twenty-nine, I hadn’t seen the world yet. I hadn’t been to Lake Starlight. I hadn’t met Brooklyn Bailey.

  “My mom’s probably looking for us.” I sidestep Veronica which she allows but her eyes cast a judgmental gaze over Brooklyn one last time.

  “Have fun. Oh, and just a tip. The finger bowl isn’t soup.” She touches Brooklyn’s arm and smiles.

  “Ignore her,” I whisper in Brooklyn’s ear, leaving Veronica at the door.

  “Well, she’s a treat.”

  “So sweet she’ll rot your teeth. Let’s find my mom.” I search the crowded room. Everyone has drinks in their hands and yet to sit for dinner. I spot my mom on the other side talking to Haylee, which will be great because I’m hoping Haylee will help block Mom from gushing over Brooklyn like she’s Bruce Springsteen, my mom’s favorite. “Come on.” I squeeze Brooklyn’s hand, stopping briefly along the way to say some brief hellos.

  “Hey,” I announce when we reach them and my mom and Haylee glance over.

  Something must be going on because Haylee forces a smile at Brooklyn. Look at that—she’s already perfected the role of a congressman’s wife.

  “Big brother,” she coos, squeezing me tight around the neck. Brooklyn drops my hand, allowing me to wrap both arms around my sister. Her mass of dark hair almost suffocates me. “Save me,” she whispers.

  She steps back and looks to Brooklyn, then to me again. In the meantime, my mom hugs me lightly with a kiss on the cheek. Her interest isn’t on me, and we both know it.

  “This is Brooklyn.” I place my hand on the small of her back as though I’m presenting her like a prize. “Brooklyn this is my mother Eva and my sister Haylee.”

  My mom smiles and Brooklyn puts her hand out in between them, but my mom steps forward squeezing Brooklyn into a hug so tight she might snap her in two.

  Haylee and I share a look behind Mom’s back.

  “Well, why don’t you just welcome her to the family, Mom?” Haylee says.

  Our shared look turns deadly. Haylee laughs, rolling her eyes at me.

  “It’s so good to meet you. I haven’t heard nearly enough. Come on, I’ll get you a drink and you can tell me everything.”

  “Mom, I’ll take her to get the drink.”

  But my mom already has her arm slid through Brooklyn’s and is pulling her toward the bar.

  “I guess I’ll say my hello another time?” Haylee asks.

  My mom ignores both of us and I watch as my mom carries on about who knows what, leading Brooklyn away from me and closer to the shark-infested waters.

  “Stop it. Mom will take good care of her.” Haylee grips my upper arm. “She’s cute. What is she doing with you?”

  I shove my hands in my suit pants. “Since she just found out who I really am three weeks ago. I’m pretty sure this is a farewell tour.”

  Haylee tilts her head. I’m not surprised, she’s been so deep into wedding planning I’m shocked she even knew I was in Alaska.

  “Dad had me go work at the new resort incognito. Brooklyn works for the hotel.” I grab a glass of champagne from one of the passing waitstaff. I’ll take anything to calm the nerves right now.

  “She works at the hotel?”

  “Housekeeping.” I swallow back the entire glass, setting it on a nearby side table.

  “You brought a maid as your date?”

  “Don’t be a judgy bitch, Haylee. It’s not becoming of a politician’s wife.”

  “I’m not. I’m just surprised.” She touches my forehead. “Did Mom and Dad send you away for some brain rewiring?”

  I shake my head. “I’ve always been more down to earth than all these people.” I throw my head to the side casting judgment on everyone here.

  She laughs. “Just because your best friend was the student aid kid at Trinity doesn’t mean you’re down to Earth.”

  “Anyway, just keep it on the down low. Veronica’s already showing her true colors.”

  “Green was never her color.”

  I pick up two champagne glasses and hand one over to Haylee.

  Rising mine in the air, I tap hers. “Congratulations sister. You snagged yourself a congressman.”

  We both sip our drinks. My gaze searches the crowd near the bar, seeing my mom has now sat Brooklyn down and she’s laughing at something.

  “If I didn’t love him, I’d leave him just because of that.”

  We both know she wouldn’t. Then again, maybe I’m cynical.

  “So, you want to tell me what the deal is with you two?” my sister asks.

  We both stare at my mom and Brooklyn.

  “We’re friends, but don’t burst Mom’s bubble, okay?”

  “Huh.” Haylee places her half-drank glass on the table nearby.

  “What?”

  “Oh nothing, good to know you’re still blind as a bat. I guess even the fresh air in Alaska can’t clear that head of yours.” She pats my back and walks to her bridesmaids three tables in, checking over her shoulder to make sure I understood.

  Well if Haylee thinks there’s something more between us, than my mom will, too. It’s a win.

  I start to approach the table my mom and Brooklyn are at, but Bradley intercepts.

  “Wyatt, thanks for coming, man.” He puts me in a hug practically picking my feet up off the ground.

  I like to think I’m a big guy, but Bradley played rugby and let me tell you, he looks like what you imagine a rugby player would. Tall, broad, and muscles bulging everywhere.

  “Congratulations, you get my sister for the rest of your life. I don’t envy you in the slightest.”

  He laughs, downing the rest of his drink. “Let’s get a real drink.”

  I peer around his body to find Brooklyn and Mom still engrossed in conversation.

  “Sure.”

  “So, who’s the girl?” Bradly asks, like I knew he would.

  “A friend.”

  “From Alaska?”

  We reach the bar, each of us ordering our drinks.

  “Yeah.”

  “I was going to say one thing isn’t like the other.”

  “Jesus, what is with everyone here? So what if she’s from a small town.”

  Bradley stirs his drink and stares at me. He takes out his stirrer, licking it clean and places it next to his drink on the napkin. “I meant she’s way too fucking good looking for you.”

  Maybe I need to loosen up. Maybe my family isn’t going to think less of her because she doesn’t have the money or status the majority of people in this room do.

  I sip my scotch, hoping it allows me to calm the fuck down.

  “Well, I could say the same thing to you. Here’s to marrying up.” I raise my drink.

  He clinks mine. “Isn’t that the truth.”

  We sip our drinks, the burn from the alcohol feeling like relief down my throat.

  “Now if only I can get her away from Mom.”

  We both turn toward the table, seeing my dad right beside my mom.

  “Fuck,” I murmur.

  “Nothing good will come of that.” Bradley cringes and pats me on the back. “Talk to you later.”

  I knew I shouldn’t
have let myself get comfortable. That’s exactly when the enemy will decide to attack.

  Thirty-Two

  Brooklyn

  Wyatt’s mom is adorable and everything I expected after overhearing her phone call hounding Wyatt to find a date. She’s asked me all the questions a mother would to the new woman dating her son.

  “And your father, honey? What does he do?”

  Here comes the tricky part. This is a happy affair and my answer always brings people down.

  “He’s passed. Ten years ago.”

  She places her hand over her heart and then over my hand. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And your mother?”

  I just have to say them together. Why didn’t I do that?

  “She passed at the same time. Snowmobile accident.”

  Her eyes widen and I ignore the welling of tears. If I address them, she’ll let them fall and she’s the mother of the bride.

  I look around. Where is Wyatt when I need saving?

  “I’m sorry. Life is so unfair. We’ve had our own unfair obstacles, but nothing as devastating as losing your parents at such a young age.” Her hand is back over her heart now.

  “Like I said it was ten years ago.”

  “How old were you at the time?”

  “Sixteen.” I sip my glass of wine. I let Mrs. Whitmore order for me since I didn’t want to order the wrong thing. People keep staring at me and I don’t understand why.

  “Who raised you?” Eva asks.

  I swallow, my eyes searching but trying to remain polite. “My brother.”

  “Heartbreaking.” She looks off, in one direction and then the other. Composes herself and sips her own wine. “How did you meet Wyatt?”