Of course Julianna has to have her wedding party match for the rehearsal. After seeing the extravagance of this night, I can only imagine how overblown her wedding tomorrow will be, despite trying not to think about it.
“And the men?”
“All Roman’s friends. One cousin. Some are from when he went to graduate school, but I was busy finding a job in Charlotte, so I didn’t spend too much time with him on campus there.”
Two of them have been not so inconspicuously shooting glances at Klaus, turning back to their friends, talking with heads close together, and then repeating it all over again. One is Kurt, Roman’s graduate school roommate. The other escapes me, but I believe he was one of Roman’s fraternity brothers at Charleston College where he did his undergrad.
“It’s weird, isn’t it, that we were together for so long and yet weren’t a part of each other’s lives?” It’s moments like this when that reality hits me. We dated for six years. Through college, graduate school, finding my first apartment after getting hired at my current job. And yet, we never really entwined our lives together.
Almost as if we were never actually meant to be. Always too different. Funny, how I’m just now realizing that maybe the only reason I stayed with Roman, or even went out with him, was because our families expected it. Hell, not that it was ever mentioned, but I wouldn’t now be surprised if my father said he wanted us running their company together.
And I put up with all of it for the sake of family approval.
“It looks like you have fans,” I murmur around the rim of my wine glass.
“Hard not to notice. They’re not exactly hiding.”
“Are you going to go talk to them?”
“Nope. If they want to meet me, they can come to me.”
“Playing hard to get?” I nudge him with my hip and when I pull back, he drops his arm behind my back, holding on to my hip and pressing me against him.
“No. But I’m right where I want to be and I have no intention of leaving you, until you ask me to.”
I flush from his praise, from the compliment, and from the warm brush of his breath skimming my cheeks. His lips press against mine and linger. “Have I told you tonight how absolutely ravishing you look? And how badly I want to strip you out of that dress?”
A shiver, having nothing to do with the weather outside rolls down my spine and spreads outward, making my fingertips and toes tingle.
“You haven’t mentioned that yet,” I say, once the sensations coursing through me give me time to think. “But I do vividly remember the way your jaw dropped when you saw me earlier and that’s enough.”
“Later,” he says, pulling back and giving me a look that sears me straight down to my toes. “It will be your jaw dropping, while you try to not scream my name.”
He’s right. My jaw’s already falling open in shock. My heart is tumbling without thought, head over heels in love with this guy and how much he wants me.
“Excuse me?”
We both turn toward the newcomer. Kurt. Or Karl. One of the guys from the bar is next to him. Their eyes are glassy, pupils dilated. The color on their cheeks and the slight sway of their bodies show how drunk they are.
“Are you Klaus Newman from the Ice Kings?”
“I am.”
“Dude,” they both drawl, as if they’ve practiced the synchronization of it. “You freaking rock, and your team is amazing. Do you think we can get your picture taken with us?”
“Do you mind?” he asks me, and slowly trails his hand over my lower back, stepping away from me.
“Go on, superstar. Go be awesome.”
He shakes his head, chuckling, and then gets swallowed up in the small throng of people while I look on.
My pretend boyfriend is a famous hockey player and for some reason, after years of our friendship, I realize that it means this… interruptions, fans, public spotlight, and potential photos of us on hockey wives and girlfriends website so female fans can tear into us—me, most likely—with their criticism.
All things I managed to avoid as his friend and running partner.
The question is, does it matter?
I stay on the peripheral while he takes photos with the dude bros and then is accosted by other members of the wedding party. I glance around, finding Julianna, hands wrapped around Roman’s forearm, holding him tightly, but her gaze is on me.
Fiery. Irate.
Probably at having the attention stolen from her on her own night of glory.
I try to summon the energy to be pleased about this, and right as I go to tip my glass in her direction and rub it in, I stop. Being catty isn’t me, nor is it who I want to be. Once Roman and Julianna get married, they’ll both continue to be in my life in some way. There’s no way to avoid it. I will have a lifetime ahead of me of seeing them at holidays or when I come back to visit.
And truly, I’m so damn happy this isn’t going to be my life, I don’t have the energy to be mad at Julianna anymore, either.
I go to her, weave through tall tables and wedding party guests, most I know or recognize but I don’t stop until I’m at Julianna’s side, her face pinched with irritation as Klaus steals her glory.
“You look beautiful tonight,” I tell her. She always does.
“I know.”
“Are you nervous at all about tomorrow?”
“Why would I be?”
I sigh. Of course she isn’t going to make this easy. “I don’t know, Julianna, maybe because you’re getting married. Committing to someone for the rest of your life. I just… we were friends once, I think.” As much as we could be with the competition between us I hadn’t ever been aware of. “I was hoping we could put all of this behind us. Once you two are married, like it or not, you’ll be connected to my family forever, to me. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could see each other and not hate each other?”
She sips her drink, and for a moment, I swear I see her eyes soften to the girl I used to remember but it’s gone in a flash as she faces me. “I’m fully aware of the commitment I’m making tomorrow, Jillian. I get Roman and everything that comes with him. We might not have what you two had, but what we have works.”
“I hope so. I really do. I really do hope you two are happy.”
“Please.” She scoffs, as if happiness and marriage is a foreign concept. “As long as he gives me children, I don’t really care whose name he calls while he’s with me. He’ll give me exactly what I want and in return, he knows he’ll have a wife who will always be with him. It’s easy and we both walk away winners.”
I cringe at her words. At the memory I’m trying so hard to scrub from my brain and how quickly she can use it like a whip. But I can see the honesty in her eyes. Perhaps they’re right.
Maybe they’re not marrying for love like Roman admitted earlier, but they’re both getting something from this. And truly, it’s not my place to care or judge.
“I wish you both the best of luck, then. And I mean that.” I figure they’ll need it. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
I walk away before she can toss any more verbal assaults my way. So much for trying to be the bigger person here. After refreshing my drink, I head toward Klaus, to his side, because bloggers and online photos be damned… I’m thrilled to be with him, in any way.