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Contents ( 85)
  1. Teagan
  2. Carter
  3. Carter
  4. Teagan
  5. Carter
  6. Carter
  7. Teagan
  8. Teagan
  9. Carter
  10. Teagan
  11. Carter
  12. Teagan
  13. Carter
  14. Carter
  15. Teagan
  16. Carter
  17. Carter
  18. Teagan
  19. Teagan
  20. Carter
  21. Teagan
  22. Carter
  23. Carter
  24. Carter
  25. Teagan
  26. Teagan
  27. Carter
  28. Teagan
  29. Carter
  30. Teagan
  31. Teagan
  32. Carter
  33. Carter
  34. Teagan
  35. Carter
  36. Teagan
  37. Carter
  38. Teagan
  39. Carter
  40. Teagan
  41. Carter
  42. Teagan
  43. Teagan
  44. Carter
  45. Teagan
  46. Carter
  47. Teagan
  48. Carter
  49. Teagan
  50. Excerpt from
  51. © 2019 by Lexi Ryan

“What’s wrong with you?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes. “Nothing. I’m just having a shit day.”

When Rich climbs in after me, I balk. This limo is for the bridal party. “What are you doing here?”

“I asked him to stick around,” Sabrina says, flashing me a look that dares me to defy his right to be here. “For me.”

Rich winks at me from the seat opposite us. The groomsmen dig into the mini fridge and pull out bottles of champagne. Rich grabs one. “Here we go,” he says, popping the cork. The champagne bubbles over the side, and he hands the bottle to me. “Your favorite champagne, if I recall.”

I take it and look around. “Where are the glasses?”

“Come on, Teagan,” Rich says. “What happened to the girl who could chug half a bottle of wine in one go?”

She grew up? But I smile and drink from the bottle before passing it on to Sabrina. She tilts it upright, and the guys chant, “Chug, chug, chug!”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Rich says, grinning at her.

The ride to the reception is blissfully short, but somehow the bridal party has drained four bottles of champagne by the time we pull up to the Jackson Brews Banquet Center. I’m worried how much of that Sabrina’s responsible for.

She’s a grown woman. She makes her own decisions.

The group is considerably louder and less coordinated than before as we file into the reception. While the rest of them make a beeline for the bar, I search for Molly to give her the update on the bride and groom’s arrival. I find her on the dance floor, chatting with the band.

“Hey there!” she says when she sees me. “You look gorgeous. The henna is so detailed!”

I smile. “Thank you. You should see the bride.”

“Oh, I can’t wait.” Molly’s smile is genuine, and something tugs in my chest—an opportunity lost. A different life, down a different path, where Molly my friend would have become Molly my sister-in-law.

“How’s everything going here?” I ask.

“Smoothly. The waitstaff will circulate with hors d’oeuvres in”—she checks her watch—“two minutes. And the bar is open.” She grins when she spots the rest of the bridal party already gathered there. “As your friends have already discovered.”

“Thank you for everything, Molly. Today means so much to Saanvi, and I’m so proud to have you lead the charge in giving her the magical celebration she deserves.”

“You’re welcome.” She frowns and studies me. “But why . . .?”

“What?”

“Why do you seem so sad?”

I swallow, and again my eyes fill with hot tears. When this day is over, I’m going to let myself have the longest cry ever. And then I’m going to beg Carter to forgive me and explain that I’m insecure and jealous, and so scared to be hurt again. I’m going to tell him that I want us to try to be together. For real.

“Is this about Carter?”