“So, are you enjoying your vacation, Annabelle?” Bryce asked pleasantly, lifting his wine glass to his lips and taking a long sip.
“Yes, San Diego is beautiful,” she replied in a polite voice.
“Not as beautiful as you look tonight, I’m sure,” he teased.
She noticed her parents exchange a pleased look. She stifled a sigh. Why was Bryce acting like Mr. Charming all of a sudden? He’d dumped her, for Pete’s sake.
The dinner dragged on. Bryce continued to flirt with her, Ryan continued to sulk, and Annabelle’s parents chatted with the Worthingtons and Kildaires as if nothing was out of sorts. By the time the small catering staff Sandra Holmes had hired cleared the dinner plates and brought dessert out, Annabelle was ready to tear her hair out. She tried to draw Ryan out of his shell, but he barely paid any attention to her.
His blue eyes became instantly alert, though, when Bryce suddenly cleared his throat and stood up. “All right, I think it’s time to put an end to all the tension,” he said cheerfully, holding the stem of his wine glass.
The adults at the table looked intrigued.
“Sandra, Greg, I know you were both upset to hear that Annabelle and I broke up,” he said to her parents, “but I want you both to know that Annabelle and I have seen the error of our ways.”
Huh?
Beaming, Bryce went on. “I’m happy to announce that the wedding is back on.”
As Annabelle’s mother clapped her hands together in delight, Bryce walked around the table to where Annabelle was sitting and reached for her hand. A sick feeling rose up her chest, settling into a lump in the back of her throat. What the hell was he doing?
“Stand up, sweetheart,” Bryce urged. “Let’s toast to our happiness.”
“What? No, Bryce, this is not—”
Without letting her finish, he took her arm and pretty much forced her to her feet. Annabelle’s gaze sought out Ryan’s, but he refused to meet her eyes. His broad shoulders were as stiff as a board and she noticed a muscle in his jaw twitching. Oh God. This was a disaster.
She opened her mouth to object again, but Bryce broke out in a long, bullshit toast about happiness and marriage, and everyone at the table raised their glasses, clinking them together in celebration. Annabelle had never seen her parents look happier, and she could have sworn she saw a flicker of satisfaction in her father’s eyes, as if he had known this was coming. Bryce’s parents got up and hugged her, expressing their joy that the two “children” were still getting married.
Bryce smiled warmly, then whispered close to her ear. “You forgive me for all those things I said, right, sweetheart? You know I didn’t mean them.”
Her lips tightened. Trying to control her anger, she whispered back, “I don’t know what the hell you’re up to, Bryce, but I am not going to—”
The words died in her throat when she heard Ryan’s chair scrape against the parquet floor. Without a word or a look in her direction, he walked out of the dining room.
Panic filled her body. “Ryan—” she called, but Bryce tightened his grip on her hand.
“Let him go. This is obviously very awkward for him, us getting back together,” Bryce said smoothly.
“We are not getting back together,” she hissed out. Then she shrugged his hand off her arm and ran out of the dining room after Ryan.
She caught up to him just as he reached the front door. “Wait,” she said breathlessly. “Please, Ryan, don’t go.”
Very slowly, he turned to face her, his blue eyes utterly expressionless. “Do you seriously think I’m going to stay?”
“Bryce and I are not back together,” she blurted out. “I don’t know what the hell he’s up to, but I promise you, Ryan, I am not marrying Bryce.”
He didn’t answer.
Annabelle stepped toward him, cupping his chin with her hands. “Please don’t go. Or at least wait for me to change and I’ll go with you, okay?”
Weariness etched into his features. Sighing, he covered her hands with his and very gently removed them from his face. “You can’t go with me,” he finally said, his voice rough.
She wrinkled her nose. “Why the hell not? Trust me, the last place I want to be right now is here. I just want to throttle Bryce for what he did back there. He knows damn well we’re not back together.”
“Look, it doesn’t matter.” There was a chord of frustration in his voice.
“What do you mean, it doesn’t matter?”
He paused for a few long beats, then let out a heavy breath. “You should probably go back to Bryce anyway.”
Ice hardened her veins. “Pardon me?”
“This isn’t really my scene, babe.” He shrugged, then reached up to loosen his tie. “It’s a little too much for me, actually.”
“What exactly are you saying?”
“I’m saying I don’t belong here.” He tore off his tie and shoved it in the pocket of his black trousers. His voice was suddenly cool, careless. “We were just having some fun, Annabelle. I didn’t sign up for family weekends and drama and all that crap.”