He waited for her to say something. Anything. Well now he was just lying to himself. He didn’t want to hear her say just anything, he wanted her to tell him that the fiancé was out of the picture for good.
Why, so you can have a shot? Don’t be stupid.
He didn’t do relationships. He’d given up that particular form of torture years ago, along with everything else. But still. This woman had spent the night in his bed. Her avoidance and utter lack of a response was a blow to his pride. Most women he took home were all too eager to stick around and swap numbers. It was normally his job to escape before things got serious.
He was the first to admit—his ego was a fragile creature.
He thought she might not respond as he watched her grip on the steering wheel tighten and then loosen. Her chest rose and fell. She was trying to keep calm.
Oh this was good.
He pointed toward his apartment building and she slowed to a stop in front. Then she turned to him and for the first time since he’d walked through her sister’s door, she made eye contact. “Can we please forget about that night?”
Dammit. Her eyes were so big and filled with such pleading…he would be the jackass of the century if he didn’t say something to soothe her.
“So I take it the fiancé doesn’t know you slept with me?”
Okay, that was definitely not soothing. He was officially an asshat. Her reaction was instantaneous and a suckerpunch to his gut. Tears welled up in her eyes. She widened them further, presumably in an attempt to keep the tears from spilling over, but it only gave her a pathetic, puppy dog look as her lower lip started to tremble.
Crap. “No, don’t cry,” he said, in a bizarrely high-pitched voice.
Her lips pressed together and she turned to stare straight ahead. He saw a single tear trickle down her cheek. Shit. He couldn’t get out of the car and leave her sitting here, crying silently in front of his home.
Could he?
No, he couldn’t. So he did what any sane man would do in this situation. He patted her knee.
“It’s okay, really,” he said. “Consider it forgotten. Your fiancé will never know, I swear.”
That, apparently, was the wrong thing to say.
Shaking her head, Elizabeth let out a little moan as the single tear was joined by a full blown stream. Her sob sounded so miserable it made his heart hurt.
Crap. What had he done? Other than be a jerk, obviously. He had to fix this. He had to—
“Could you get out of the car, please?” It could have sounded angry or rude but it didn’t. It just sounded sad, thanks to the ‘please’ she’d tacked on. He hesitated, frozen for a moment, with one arm awkwardly stretched out as though he might attempt the knee-pat again, even though it had been a miserable failure the first time around.
Then he thought better of it. Hell, if he was her and had lost his shit in front of a near-stranger after pretending to be an engaged couple—he’d probably want a moment alone too. So he opened the door and slowly backed away, as though her tears might come to life and attack him. Once one foot was firmly on the ground, he hustled out of there and slammed the car door behind him with one more, “Sorry,” for good measure.
It wasn’t until her car had driven down the road and he had reached the apartment building’s front door that he stopped to consider how insanely irrational her response had been.
She’d been acting odd from the second she spotted him. Oh, who was he kidding? She’d been on a one-way ticket to crazytown from the moment she’d walked into his bar and ordered her first drink.
Still, her reaction in the car had been over the top. But whatever. He’d done his good deed of the day by playing the role of her fiancé. She wasn’t his problem anymore. The poor schmuck who was really going to marry her could deal with this meltdown. He was officially done worrying about the mystery woman.
* * *
Home at last and safely tucked away on her couch with a box of tissues, the enormity of it hit her. She’d actually done it. She’d slept with him. A complete and total stranger.
His words haunted her. So I take it the fiancé doesn’t know you slept with me? For the last two weeks she’d been trying to convince herself that even drunk and miserable, she wouldn’t have slept with a stranger, no matter how hot he may have been. But she had.
Her. The prude. Miss “I’ve only slept with one man in my entire life.” She didn’t judge people for sleeping around—she loved hearing about her friends’ conquests and Lord knew Connie had gotten enough action for them both before she’d met Robbie. But that just wasn’t her. She was the one who’d saved herself for marriage. Well, an engagement. But that had seemed close enough. She was a healthy, red-blooded woman, after all, and an engagement was supposed to mean forever. The wedding was just a technicality, everyone knew that.
But Jason was not the one and their relationship was not forever and she was no longer the self-proclaimed prude of the family.
Elizabeth sniffled into her tissue and picked up her cat, Mr. Morris, who was pressing himself against her legs in an attempt to be pet. Nothing was the same. One stupid act on Jason’s part and her life had been flipped upside down. At that moment, she barely recognized herself.
And it wasn’t just the sleeping with a stranger thing, either. It was these tears, too. The cat looked up startled as Elizabeth let out a little wail, this time in embarrassment more than anything.
She’d never been one to be overly emotional and she prided herself on being calm, cool, and collected. She was a high school math teacher, for the love of God. She did not fall apart in public, nor did she turn into a weepy mess in front of sexy strangers.
As if going through a breakup from the love of her life wasn’t bad enough, she’d had to go and make it a million times worse by getting drunk, sleeping with a stranger, and then getting caught up in her sister’s stupid plan to have that same stranger play the part of her future husband.
“This is a mess,” she muttered to her cat.
Mr. Morris didn’t seem to care.
“You’re right,” she told him. “I’m wallowing again and I made a promise that I would stop the pity party, didn’t I?”
Mr. Morris’s silence spoke volumes.
Pushing him to the side, she got up to make dinner for herself. The pity party was officially over. She’d given herself two solid weeks of wallowing and no more. This wasn’t her. She was a positive person. Rational, levelheaded, and normal. Well, aside from her tendency to talk to her cat.
But other than that, she was totally sane. She could move past this.
Deciding that anything more than pouring a bowl of cereal was too much trouble, she pulled down a clean bowl from the cabinet.
“This is it, Mr. Morris. The dawn of a new day.”
She was fairly certain his meow was in response to the food she’d just poured into his bowl but she still took it as a sign of solidarity.
It was time to start looking at the bright side. This day may have been a disaster but some good had come out it. At least now the mystery of that night had been solved. She may not have liked the answer she’d gotten but it was better to know than to stew over ‘what ifs,’ right? And she’d crossed a minor hurdle as well. She’d finally bitten the bullet and told her sister that the wedding was off.
Well, that her portion of the wedding was off.
True, her sister hadn’t exactly come to terms with this turn of events, but she would. And telling her sister was what she’d dreaded the most about calling it off. Her parents were distant, to say the least. They wouldn’t really care—they probably didn’t even remember her fiancé’s name. Her closest friends, the ones she worked with and had to see on a regular basis, already knew, thanks to her epic meltdown at the bar. And the rest were friendly acquaintances or Jason’s friends whose opinion really didn’t matter.
See? Tonight had been a good thing. Connie knew, she’d gotten her answers about the bartender, and her two-week pity party had c
ome to an end.
She pulled out a pad of paper and pen as she ate her unsatisfying dinner. Right. No more wallowing. This week she would launch into action. Life was moving forward. Get on board or get out of the way.
First on the list, clear out Jason’s junk. It was hard to forget about someone when their belongings were scattered all over your house. Next, she would take a hiatus from men in general. Maybe she’d put herself on a detox diet—one that prohibited alcohol, sugar, and men. Yes. She could do that. She shifted in her seat. Okay, this was starting to feel good.
What was next? Apologize to Mark. She frowned at the words for a moment. What was there to apologize for? Sorry for sleeping with you? Sorry for forgetting that I slept with you? Sorry for crying all over your bar? Sorry for crying in the car?
She let out a little snort of laughter before scribbling out the bulletpoint. The hottie bartender was officially out of her life now. For good. Or at least until her sister’s wedding since he would be the best man.
Her heart sank into her stomach at the mere thought of having to face him again after everything. Particularly after her lovely one-woman reenactment of Sybil in the car. But the wedding was months away. And she would no longer be a starring role. Would she be the maid of honor now that she wasn’t a co-bride? Who else would Connie want at her side if not her loyal best friend and sister?
Which led to her last item on the list. One she couldn’t put off. She had to talk to her stubborn sister. Somehow Elizabeth had to get it through to Connie that she didn’t have cold feet, this wasn’t going to blow over, and she and Jason were not getting married.
She picked up a tissue and blew her nose. Would there ever be a day when that thought didn’t make her tear up? God, she hoped so.
But until then there was wine.
The detox could start tomorrow.
* * *
Elizabeth started detox week by doing the inevitable—she told her parents and friends that her portion of the wedding was off. Granted, doing that particular chore had entailed quite a bit of wine so perhaps her detox plan wasn’t as strict as she’d envisioned.
But she’d ripped off the Band-Aid and it felt surprisingly good. She assumed Jason would take care of telling his guests, and Connie….well, she had no idea what Connie planned on saying to her friends. Her sister had been suspiciously silent the day after the interview. And the next. But then, two days later Connie called and informed her that her presence was officially requested for dinner that night. They needed to talk, Connie said.
Well, yeah. Obviously. This was just the opportunity she’d been waiting for. She’d given her sister time to absorb what she’d told her and now they could discuss it like rational adults.
She placed a hand to her stomach in a vain attempt to dispel the anxious pit.
It was just dinner. And Robbie would be there. Her sister could not murder her with a witness present.
Elizabeth had steeled herself for the worst by the time she knocked on Connie and Robbie’s townhouse door. But instead of the cold, somewhat frightening Connie she’d been expecting, her sister answered the door with a brilliant smile.
“Come in, come in, you’re right on time.” Holding the door open for her, Connie stepped to the side, practically buzzing with excitement.
“Okay,” she said as she walked past her sister, keeping a wary eye on her all the while. “What’s going on?”
Leading Elizabeth into the kitchen, Connie launched into a verbal crescendo that left Elizabeth nauseous. Apparently word of the magazine article had spread. The interviewer and her editor were so happy with it—particularly with Mark’s colorful stories—that they submitted the story to the producers of the reality TV show that goes hand in hand with the bridal magazine.
“They loved the idea.” Connie’s face was lit up with so much excitement, Elizabeth worried briefly that she might have a stroke. Her sister was not giddy by nature but now, with this bit of news, she was over the moon.
“But,” Elizabeth started. Before she could go any further, Connie grabbed her hands. “Don’t you see? The reality show wants to cover our wedding. And if they do, they will pay for everything. Everything!”
Elizabeth gently tried to remove her hands from her sister’s grip but, when that didn’t work and her sister’s hands tightened around hers, she pulled them out roughly. She had to put an end to this.
But Connie looked so happy.
She took a deep breath. “Look, Con, I hate to break this to you—”
The instantaneous change in her sister’s expression was truly frightening. She went from ecstatic to intense in a heartbeat. “You will not ruin this for me.”
Holy crap. Connie’s voice had taken on a weird Exorcist quality. Please don’t let her head start spinning. Pretty please.
“I’m sorry, Connie, I really am. But I meant it when I said that Jason and I are calling off our wedding.”
“Why?” Connie bit the word out as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. Oh no. Elizabeth knew that pose well. Her sister was going to challenge her every step of the way. She could already see it. Connie would try to browbeat her into saying the wedding was back on. There was nothing for it—she had to tell her sister the truth.
“Jason cheated on me.”
Connie blinked. “Are you sure?”
Elizabeth sighed. “I walked in on them.”
Once again, Connie’s entire demeanor changed in a heartbeat. Her arms dropped and her eyes filled with unshed tears before she pulled her sister in for a brutally strong hug. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”
The show of sympathy was almost more than she could bear. This was why she’d procrastinated on telling her sister. This right here. Well, she’d also been terrified that her sister wouldn’t take the news well regarding the wedding plans. And that had been for good reason. But this, the sympathy from someone who knew her better than anyone—it was unbearable. It brought back all of the initial pain. Connie knew just how much she’d come to depend on Jason. Not just Jason but the comfort and stability of their relationship.
For two women who’d grown up in a toxic, broken home, they’d both been desperate to find stability as adults. Connie had found that in Robbie and Elizabeth had been so sure she’d found it too.
And now her rock, her stability, the very ground beneath her feet had toppled and crumbled into a pile of dust. And so, she let herself cry. Much as she’d dreaded this moment, her sister’s embrace and her murmurs of comfort were, well…comforting.
“You should have told me sooner.”
Elizabeth’s sniffles had come to an end and Connie’s statement stilled her. She knew her sister wasn’t talking about the wedding. Although, maybe she was. Pulling back so she could look her sister in the eye, she said, “I know. I was just…”
What? How could she explain to her sister that the two weeks since the breakup had passed in a haze of shock, denial, anger, and disbelief?
“I was busy.” Even to her own ears, that excuse was pathetic, but it was easier than admitting that she’d spiraled out of control.
Connie raised one eyebrow but she didn’t comment. Sometimes it was worse when her sister didn’t speak.
“I’m sorry that I’m ruining your wedding plans.”
Connie’s lips puckered and her brows drew together in a look of sympathy. “Oh honey, you’re not.”
Elizabeth found herself temporarily speechless. Now who was living in denial? Taking her sister’s hands, she felt the need to spell it out. “Con, me and Jason? We’re never getting back together.”
The protective older-by-two-minutes sister came out with a vengeance as her nostrils flared and she tugged her hands from Elizabeth’s grip. “Of course you’re not! You are too good for that loser. I’ve always known that.”
Elizabeth inhaled deeply but bit her tongue. There was the “I told you so” she’d known was coming.
Connie sniffed. “I just didn’t know how sleazy he was until today.”
<
br /> Fair point. Jason had never been her sister’s favorite person, but Elizabeth hadn’t thought too much of it since her sister tended to dislike most people at first. Connie never thought anyone was good enough for her “little sister,” so subtle jabs about Jason’s worthiness had been largely ignored.
Oh great, now she could add the fact that Connie had known all along that Jason was a schmuck to her list of humiliations.
But she could wallow later, now was the time to make her loveable lunatic of a sister see the light. Grasping her shoulders, she met Connie’s intimidatingly steady gaze. “Listen to me, sis. I know how badly you want this publicity and an all-expenses-paid wedding….”
Her sister gave her a look that said, “Uh, yeah, duh. Who wouldn’t?”
Elizabeth ignored it. “But without Jason, we don’t have a groom.”
Connie’s smile was small and smug and left Elizabeth with a decidedly cold feeling in the pit of her stomach. Oh no.
“Yes, we do,” her sister said.
Elizabeth shook her head. “Uh-uh. No way. We are not involving—”
“Robbie is talking to Mark right now.” Connie folded her arms over her chest. “He’ll say yes.”
Elizabeth stared at her sister with her mouth slightly agape. What to say to a crazy person who has officially lost her mind? “No. Just no. That is not an option.”
“Why not?”
Elizabeth hadn’t expected the need to justify logic and sanity. Licking suddenly dry lips, she struggled with where to start. Because I slept with him and I don’t remember it. Yeah, no. She was ashamed enough as it was by that night, she didn’t need Connie’s judgements to boot.
She settled for, “He doesn’t like me.”
Connie’s face wrinkled up in confusion. “He barely knows you, how could he not like you?” Turning her head to give her a sidelong look of suspicion, she added, “What happened when you drove him home?”
The Morning After: Starting from Zero Box Set Page 17
