Nicki throws it open, and I go into immediate Woo Girl mode even though my heart most definitely isn’t in it today. “Ahh! You’re getting married tomorrow!”
You’d never guess she was drunk as hell last night based on her screaming reply: “Woo!”
I giggle, and she helps me with the drinks before I drop them again—probably since she knows that’s totally my style.
“And how did your night end up?” she asks as she leads me into the house.
I giggle, and then I whisper (because my parents are two rooms away), “I did it.”
Her head whips in my direction, and her eyes are wide. “You did what?”
“It,” I whisper yell. “You know. A one-night stand.”
“Oh my God!” she practically screams, and my parents are definitely going to want to know what that’s all about. I motion with my hand that she really needs to take it down a notch, and she starts whisper yelling too. “With who? Holy shit, I’m so proud of you! What happened? How did you meet him? Did you exchange numbers?”
“I’ll give you every detail later,” I say as we walk through the house. I lower my voice to a whisper. “He was some random guy I met at the club. He was tall and had all these muscles and, ugh, he was just the hottest guy I think I’ve ever seen in my life. It was hot. No numbers, just one night.” And then we’re nearing the kitchen and I give her a look that clearly means we’ll talk about it later because there’s my dad, and hell if I’m going to brag about my one-night stand in front of my dad.
“There she is!” he says, and he steps over to wrap me in a hug while Nicki sets down the drinks. My mom is right behind him.
“Oh, honey, your eyes are all puffy,” she says, and I roll those eyes for her benefit. “Did you drink a lot last night?”
No, mom, I got my brains screwed out up against a window and I was up kinda late after flying in yesterday and attending a bachelorette party. “Yeah,” I say instead, which really isn’t a lie.
She tuts disapprovingly. “Brunch is almost ready,” she says, and she heads back to the stove to stir some scrambled eggs.
Can we really call it brunch when it’s not even nine o’clock yet? Isn’t that still in the breakfast zone? I guess it’s almost eleven Chicago time, so I let it slide without saying anything—something I tend to do a lot around my mother.
We sit down to bacon, sausage, pancakes, and my mom’s famous scrambled eggs, chatting about the wedding and today’s activities. Josh and my dad leave for the golf course, and a short while later, the rest of the bridesmaids start to show up as well as Nicki’s mom. Then a team of nail techs rings the bell and gets to work on us.
We’re pampered with manicures and pedicures, with stylists who do our hair and make-up, and with racks of dresses to choose from.
By the time the boys get back from golf and take their showers, it’s just about time to head back to the Cosmopolitan for the rehearsal.
I drive my brother’s car back, valet it, and stop at my room to drop off my purse. I take a beat to look out the windows at the view. I spot a handprint on the window.
My handprint.
The terrace wraparound suite is just how it sounds. It’s a corner room, and windows literally wrap around the entire suite, giving me a beautiful view of the Strip. I remember looking down over that view last night when Hot Luke was pounding into me, and a well of regret rises over me.
We could’ve exchanged numbers. Last names. Career details.
Okay, maybe not career details since at the moment I don’t actually have one, but anything that would help identify the other.
I wish I could really pretend I never overheard his conversation at Starbucks this morning like I told him I would...but I can’t. It replays in my mind, an endless loop where I wish I could see him again followed by rising anger that he spoke about me the way he did.
That he wrote me off so easily.
But I know he’s been to that Starbucks at least once, so maybe when this weekend is all over, I’ll go hang out there for a bit on the off chance I might run into him again. I sigh, and then I brush it off. I have to, because it’s time to head toward the pool for the rehearsal.
A different pool than the one I sat near last night when Luke first kissed me, thank God.
I step on the elevator car, the same one I was in last night when I made out with Luke—back when there was the promise of sex in the air but we hadn’t done anything more than some intense kissing.
I’m not alone, so I stare up at the digital numbers as they change with each passing floor as one does in crowded elevators.
I get off on the fourteenth floor and head toward the Chelsea Pool. I spot our small group standing near the entrance, and some of the groomsmen have joined us. I check them out from a distance as I approach. Tall, lean men with tight butts in suits. Mostly football players. Scratch that...mostly hot football players.
I wipe the corner of my mouth in case a little drool escaped as my eyes zero in on one with a particularly cute butt.
I don’t know any of Josh’s groomsmen. They’re all his teammates on the Aces and I didn’t meet any of them the one weekend I visited Nicki and Josh, but as he’s told me over and over, they’re like brothers to him after only a year of playing here.
He’s talking to the small group of them, and after my one-night stand last night, I’m feeling a little overdose of confidence. It’s not that I think I’m going to hook up with any of my brother’s friends—not that I’m not opposed to the idea—but I have a little swagger to my walk just in knowing that someone as hot as Hot Luke wanted to spend some time in my bed.
Obviously that was purely about physical attraction.
Clearly he’s an asshole who touts his conquests in public.
I shake it off and my confidence takes a little tumble as I trip when my heel stubs the sidewalk all at the same time. I don’t fall, thankfully, but I do realize how much I have to let last night and subsequently also this morning go. I need to focus because when I don’t, well, I trip and I drop coffees and it’s usually a disaster.
“There she is,” Josh says, looking over the shoulder of the super cute butt guy he’s talking to. “My sister, the maid of honor,” he announces, and he takes a step toward me to introduce me to the groomsmen.
The guy with the super cute butt turns around as Josh passes by on his way toward me.
My eyes flick from my brother to the guy in the suit.
No.
My eyes widen.
My heart stops.
It can’t be.
My stomach twists.
It’s just not possible.
My knees nearly give out on me.
“Ellie, this is my best man, Luke Dalton,” Josh says.
Oh shit.
“Oh, and, by the way, he’s the one who lives across the street from Nicki and me. He can’t wait to have my little sister as his houseguest.”
I swear to God, I’m the physical embodiment of the facepalm emoji.
You have got to be freaking kidding me.
CHAPTER 9
“Honey, you look pale. Do you feel all right?” my mom asks, walking over and pinching my cheeks to give me some color like she’s done ever since I was a little girl.