“Don’t say that, Ruby.”
“It’s true!” I insist. “You can’t . . . You can’t look at some brief intense hook-up and judge your entire relationship in comparison. You love Trevor, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Brooke says softly.
“And you weren’t even thinking about Aaron until this week, were you?”
She shakes her head. “You know, I even . . . When I saw that post about him, my first thought was how glad I was I’d found a guy I was so happy with that seeing it didn’t bring up any of those old feelings.”
“Right,” I tell her, relieved. “Aaron didn’t matter to you, because you have such a great thing with Trevor. You’re happy, you’ve been building this future together, you know it’s going to be a great one.” I squeeze her shoulder. “I’ve watched you two together for years—I know it will be. You guys are the real thing. Next week we’ll all be back home, and I’ll be back to single life, and you’ll think it’s ridiculous you were ever stressing over that other guy at all,” I add, trying to sound upbeat, for her sake.
“Yeah.” Brooke exhales with a shaky giggle. “I’m so sorry, Ruby. I’m being such a flake.”
“Hey.” I smile. “Normally you’re the most put-together person I know. I think you’re still well below your flakiness quota for the week, let alone a lifetime. Are you feeling better now?”
“I think so.” She straightens up, looking calmer now. “It’s not like I ever didn’t want to marry Trevor. I just wasn’t sure—I want to know I’m doing the right thing. But you’re right. I should trust the way I’ve felt all that time before this, not a bunch of sudden doubts that don’t even make sense.”
“There you go.” I stand up and offer my hand to help her up too. “Now let’s get you back to the bridal suite. We still need to embarrass you with lingerie and sex toys before you can be allowed to walk down the aisle.”
Brooke groans, but she follows me. As we reach the steps to the pool deck, I see a figure just disappearing into the lobby. Was that Will’s muscular frame and dark hair? Damn. In my worrying over Brooke, I forgot we’d made maybe-plans.
“Will?” I call out, hurrying up the steps, but the guy doesn’t stop walking. By the time I reach the doors, he’s nowhere to be seen. Between the dim lighting outside and the brief moment I saw him for, I’m not all that sure it even was Will.
“Ruby?” Brooke asks, looking concerned. “Did you have plans? Because you should go, and meet him, or whatever—”
“Nope!” There’s no way I’m leaving Brooke’s side for the rest of the night after all this anyway. “I’m all yours.”
On our way to the elevator, I shoot him a quick text asking for a rain check. We’ve still got tomorrow night. No matter what I just told Brooke, parting ways with him at the end of this week is going to hurt. Bad. But it’ll take the apocalypse or worse to keep me from enjoying the sizzle between us all the way to the end.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The morning after the bachelorette hurts like hell. The first thing I do when I wake up is wince, cover my eyes, and wish I’d drank at least ten more gallons of water to wash away all of last night’s alcohol. The second thing I do is grab my phone.
Will still hasn’t replied to last night’s text. Well, who knows what exploits he and the guys might have gotten up to? So today we see the happy couple tie the knot, I dash off. How about some happy coupling afterward? Kissy face emoji. Too mushy? Or just dirty enough?
Send.
Brooke stirs on the other side of the king-sized bed. I sit up. “How are you feeling?” I ask quietly.
Brooke blinks. A slow smile stretches across her face. “Good. Really good. I’m getting married today, Ruby!”
I laugh, relief washing over me. “Yes, you are. And you’re going to look absolutely gorgeous while you’re doing it.”
Maggie calls up room service for breakfast. After I’ve gulped down coffee and toast and eggs—and made sure Brooke has eaten enough to keep her conscious through the excitement—I check to confirm the hairstylist and makeup artist are on their way up. We wash up and the three of us help each other into our lilac gowns. Brooke and I picked out the perfect style. Somehow the mermaid fit manages to both add an elegant sleekness to Maggie’s curves and give Lulu’s slim frame some oomph.
Lulu admires herself in the mirror while wiggling her feet into her shoes. She lets out a squeak. I glance over just as the low heel pops off one of her beaded sandals.
“This is the first time I’ve ever really worn them!” she protests, glaring at it.
Brooke’s eyes widen, but I dart in there before she has to say a word.
“I’ve got this.” I pull a piece of sandpaper out of the Maid of Honor kit bag I assembled a couple weeks ago and hold out my hand. Lulu gives me the broken sandal with a skeptical look.
“You just roughen up the surface.” I scratch the sandpaper against the errant heel. “And then you glue that sucker right back on.” Out of the kit comes the super glue. I smear it all over the base and fix the heel in place. “Give it at least ten minutes to dry, and it should hold you through the day, at least.”
“Wow,” Brooke says. “Is there anything you’re not prepared for?”
I grin at her. “I looked up a list of essentials online. This didn’t seem like a good day for winging it.”
“And your BFF is eternally grateful.”
The makeup artist grabs Brooke first. I submit to the hairstylist’s attentions. To distract myself from the yanking and twisting and spraying going on around my scalp, I pull out my phone.
No new texts. Strange. But then, Will could still be sleeping. The guys’ side doesn’t have half as much prep to get through. Or his battery could be dead. Or there could be some groomsmen emergency going down.
“Ruby!” Brooke interrupts me. “You’re up!”
I take a seat for the makeup artist. “Just something natural,” I say, eyeing the massive spread of brushes and bottles.
Maggie snorts on my other side. “You’ll get what the rest of us got, and you’ll like it.”
I’ve watched clients get their faces painted plenty of times, but the swipes and dabs of the brushes make my skin twitch. It’s like I’m getting a whole new layer of skin over top of my real one. But this is what it takes to make perfect pictures. I’ll grin and bear it.
By the time the wedding photographer finishes with our not-so-candid snaps and all the bridal party pics down by the beach, I’m impatient. Everywhere I glance, I keep expecting to see Will. There’s no sign of him, though. I spot Helene behind the front desk and make a beeline over.
“Hi!” I say. “I, ah, just wanted to make sure everything’s going as planned for the ceremony.”