Regan found her voice first. “Colton’s not going to believe his eyes.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Damn right it is, beotch.”
Christine and Julie burst out laughing. “You’re the most beautiful bride ever,” Julie managed between giggles, “and I’m not just saying that ’cause you’re my friend.”
“Honest?” Kady turned to look at herself in the full-length mirror stationed by the window.
Christine crossed the room until she stood beside Kady. “Honest.”
Julie and Regan came over as well, and they all stood together like a human bouquet. After a moment Kady said, “Sophie, get your butt over here.”
She took a breath, pasted a smile on her face, and joined the women standing in front of the mirror. Kady wrapped her arms around Sophie’s shoulders and pulled her into the group. Then she sighed. “Those poor boys aren’t going to know what hit them. Let’s take some pictures.”
From there the afternoon became a blur. Pictures. A toast. More pictures. Soon the wedding planner herded them downstairs and ushered them into a waiting limousine for the short trip to the chapel. At the chapel they posed for more pictures, and then someone handed her a bouquet, and before she knew it, she was walking down the aisle on Brock’s arm. He smiled down at her and whispered, “You clean up nice, Miss Sophie.” She managed to say, “Back at you,” without putting a crack in her mask of tranquillity, and concentrated on not rushing the pace.
Colt gave her a loaded look when she reached the altar. She pushed her lips into an I’m fine smile and then feigned interest in the stained-glass windows decorating the far wall of the chapel. She felt the weight of Logan’s stare but refused to meet his eyes.
Just when the urge to give in to the pull of Logan’s gaze threatened to overwhelm her, the organist transitioned into the familiar notes of “Here Comes the Bride,” and she gratefully focused on Kady’s progress down the aisle. Thereafter, she blocked everything else out and locked her attention on Colt and Kady. The ceremony itself flowed over her, until an awkward pause pulled her out of her zone. Colt prompted Logan for the rings.
His startled, “Shit, sorry,” sent a ripple of laughter through the church, and told her she hadn’t been the only one not paying attention to the ceremony. Her traitorous eyes drifted to his flushed face and found him staring at her. Her heart lurched painfully in her chest. She quickly looked away.
“I dos” were exchanged, followed by the big kiss, which Colt and Kady put their all into. Even though she expected the moment and took joy in their happiness, she caught herself blinking back tears. Earlier today, for a few stupid moments, she’d pictured standing in front of a church next to Logan, exchanging vows and promises of forever. Now she flashed forward to a future as crazy old Aunt Sophie, living alone in her tiny walk-up—just her and her ten pet cats.
The strains of “The Wedding March” reached her ears before she could fall too deeply into that endless well of self-pity. Then it was back down the aisle and out the chapel door amid cheers and tossed handfuls of flower petals.
Guests slowly dispersed, boarding shuttles to take them to the reception, and the photographer directed the wedding party to various locations in and around the chapel for pictures. Sophie kept herself lodged between Christine and Regan as much as possible, or Reed, Tyler, and Brock, but at one point, the photographer arranged them so Logan stood behind her, with his arms looped around her waist. He leaned in and whispered, “We need to talk.”
“That’s nice,” the photographer said. “Let’s get one more. Everybody scooch in a little closer.”
She did as instructed, trying to ignore the scent of his cologne. It invaded her senses, despite her best efforts to shut him out completely.
“I want to explain—”
Her pulse quickened at the sound of his voice. How pathetic was she? “I don’t want your explanations.”
The photographer finished the shot and requested that the groomsmen pose with the bride and groom. She used the opportunity to make an escape. Talking to him now was out of the question. The lock on the safe where she’d stuffed all her hurt and anger was much too brittle to withstand the conversation. Besides, she’d overheard everything she needed to know. Any explanations he offered would just make her want to deck him, and while a part of her got perverse satisfaction out of the idea, this wasn’t the time or place for the shy girl to go crazy and throw her very first public scene. What she needed to do was hold herself together until the reception wound down. Then she was out of there.
A limo transported them to the reception, and she hoped the festive atmosphere in the car covered any undercurrents of tension between her and Logan. His stare tugged at her, but she resisted the pull and steadfastly concentrated on a conversation between Christine and Regan about the most atrocious bridesmaid’s dresses they’d ever been obligated to wear.
Thankfully, the wedding party table at the reception was set up “last supper” style, with Kady and Colt seated at the center, best man on Kady’s other side, maid of honor flanking Colt. The other members of the wedding party sat boy-girl down either side, which put many, many bodies between her and Logan. He wasn’t in her line of vision, but unfortunately, out of sight didn’t mean out of mind. Especially not when he got up and headed her way. Regan walked toward him and the two stopped behind the table to chat.
She ordered herself to ignore them, but couldn’t seem to stop sneaking a glimpse from beneath her lashes. Regan leaned close as they spoke, resting her hand on his arm. She smiled, and must have said something funny or flirtatious, because Logan blushed. The verbal foreplay continued but Sophie decided she’d seen enough. Sitting there, docile and silent, while waves of jealousy and misery battered her was too much to ask of herself.
She pushed her chair back and stood, searching the room for a safe place to lose what little dinner she’d managed to choke down.
A sixty-something woman toting as many extra pounds and wearing a truly horrid brown dress waddled into the reception room from a hallway and Sophie had two thoughts. That’s you in forty years, and, more immediately relevant, that’s the way to the restroom. She hurried down the hall and pushed through the door with the icon of a woman on the front.
Inside the ladies’ room she sank down into one of the lounge chairs and, because the sting of salt became too strong to blink back, she closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to her knees. Keep it together just a little longer. A couple toasts. Some dancing. A bouquet toss. You can do it.
Not like she had any choice. Staying in the ladies’ room wasn’t an option. Someone would come in eventually, and see her curled into her protective ball, nursing her wounds. There was something unbearably pitiful about a bridesmaid sitting alone in a restroom, crying. Nobody wanted to be that girl, including her.
She got up, walked to the mirror, and used tissues to dry her tears. Then she drew in a deep, stabilizing breath, released it slowly, and took stock. Surprisingly, the woman staring back at her looked calm and self-possessed. Only her overbright eyes hinted at any distress, but they also gleamed with determination. Maybe she wasn’t quite the “New Sophie” she’d set her sights on becoming, but she wasn’t “Old Sophie,” either. Which brought up the question of exactly what she was, but she could stand there all day and never figure out the answer, so she tossed her handful of crumpled tissues into the wastebasket and headed to the door…and almost got knocked out when Regan came barreling in.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” the tall brunette said.
“That’s okay.” She retreated into the lounge again. “I really didn’t want to leave the restroom anyway.”
“What’s going on? Why aren’t you out there with your guy?”
“Logan’s hardly mine.” Sophie shifted, toying with the edge of her dress. “He was only spending time with me as a favor to Colton. The good news, for you, is he’s no longer stuck entertaining the groom’s shy little sister. He’s all yours. Go for
it.”
Regan blinked. “I hate to be the one to break it to you, but a man doesn’t ask his best friend to sleep with his baby sister.”
“But—”
“And, seriously, that scorching kiss I got an eyeful of this morning when I walked by your room was nobody’s version of a favor. No one can fake chemistry like that.”
Sophie frowned. “I don’t know…”
“Yeah, you do. Deep down, a girl always knows.”
Did she? She knew what she’d overheard this morning. Had she misinterpreted? Was she misjudging Logan’s motives because of her own insecurities?
“Look, sweetie,” Regan went on. “That man is crazy about you. Take off the underdog cape you wear around like a security blanket, because it doesn’t fit at all. You caught Logan’s eye all on your own, and now you need to decide if you want to keep it. But if you ask me, only an idiot would let him get away just because the idea of being with him is scary. I don’t know you very well, but you don’t strike me as an idiot. Don’t prove me wrong.” She stepped back and held open the door.
Sophie stared up at her, at a loss for words. If Regan was playing some kind of game with her, she wasn’t smart enough to figure it out. She shook her head and started out the door, then paused and looked at Regan. “You coming?”
“I’ll be along.”
For once in probably her entire life, Regan didn’t look too good. Her face was pale. She’d chewed all her lipstick off and didn’t seem to care. “Are you okay?”