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Part II
I Told You So
By Serena Bell
About… I Told You So
He wants a do over. She’s pretending they’ve never met.
All Phaedra Wallerk wants is to guard her broken heart and be the perfect maid of honor. Until she spots the best man. She remembers him—and the magical way he swiveled his hips—from a night of incredible sex. Now he wants a chance to get to know her, even though she took off after their encounter like she’d left the stove on at home. But Phaedra is done with all of it: love, sex, and second chances.
Mack Ferrier can’t get Phaedra out of his head, not since the night she caught his eye with her flame-red hair—and then set fire to his sheets. He can’t believe his luck in finding her again, and doubly so when fate sends them on a road trip together. He’s ready to remind her of the sparks they generated … except Phaedra’s determined to treat him like a stranger …
1
Phaedra Wallerk had been waiting for this moment. And not in the I-can’t-wait way. In the oh-shit-yeah-I-knew-this-was-gonna-happen way.
Phae and her Aunt Vivian stood in the lobby of the Cape House hotel, waiting for Vivian’s fiancé to join them so they could start Aunt Vivian’s wedding rehearsal. The day had been busy, busy, busy. They’d finalized a few last minute choices with the wedding planner, and worked with her and the hotel’s owner to put up the wedding decorations in the hotel’s charming lobby, and then they’d set out on a mission into the tiny beach town of Tierney Bay to find a few spare pairs of nude pantyhose, which wasn’t easy, because no one wore stockings at the beach.
Now Phae found herself taking a deep breath for the first time in what felt like hours. She sighed it out, maybe a bit too heavily, because when she turned to look at her aunt, Vivi was looking back with warmth—and pity.
“Oh, honey,” her aunt said. “You’re being so brave and wonderful. And I’m sorry for doing this to you—”
“No!” This was what Phaedra had been waiting for—dreading, really. It was exactly the conversation she didn’t want to have. She did not want her aunt to feel guilty, or to give any thought to Phae’s feelings at all. “Don’t be sorry, Aunt Vivi. I am totally, one hundred percent, fine.”
“Darling,” Vivi said, peering closer. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.” From somewhere in the depths of her soul, she dredged up one perfect, genuine smile.
“Because you know, it would be okay if you had some feelings about all this. It would be perfectly natural—”
The back of Phaedra’s throat tightened. “I’m so happy for you, Aunt Vivi.”
And as far as it went, it was absolutely, completely, and totally true. She was happy for her aunt. And thrilled that her aunt had asked her to be the maid of honor in her wedding. Aunt Vivi and Phae had always had a special bond, a shared love of fabric crafts and romance novels and hot fudge sundaes. Vivi had never had kids, and Phae’s mom had died when she was fourteen. They’d been each other’s closest female family—and true friends—for so long that Phae couldn’t imagine it any other way. When Vivi had—gingerly—asked Phae to be her maid of honor, Phae never considered saying no.
In fact, she loved Vivi’s fiancé, Michael. And it was abundantly clear that Michael and Vivi loved each other madly.
Phae was nothing but thrilled for Vivi. And yet—
Vivi’s eyes searched Phae’s face. “You can be happy for me and still sad for yourself. It was supposed to be your Christmas wedding at the beach.”
Phae let herself look around the lobby, and her heart squeezed. A sad-happy squeeze. Because Vivi was right. You could be happy for someone you loved and still sad for yourself. You could celebrate someone else’s joy and also feel the sharp, sidelong pain of missing a life that had almost been yours. Phaedra could have been the one on her way to her rehearsal, her ex-fiancé Chris the one they were waiting for. The lobby, all decked out, could have been her own personal Christmas-wedding fairyland.
For the most part, the Cape House lobby looked exactly as Phae had pictured her own ceremony with Chris: evergreen garlands, sparkly fairy lights, poinsettia, mistletoe, brass candlesticks and a lit-up Christmas tree—festive, classic, and classy.
The only difference between Phaedra’s vision and this version was the fact that every last ornament in the room was a pair of shiny red balls.
The theme of the wedding was Jingle Balls, to honor survivors of testicular cancer, like Michael. All the wedding guests had been asked, in lieu of gifts, to consider a donation to the testicular cancer awareness nonprofit.
Phaedra loved that concept. And of the decorations. It was just that every time she looked at the shiny red balls, she found herself thinking, There are a lot of balls in this room. Which made her stifle a giggle.
And maybe, given all the other emotions at play, that wasn’t a bad thing. She was just a little bit worried she’d start giggling right in the middle of the wedding.
For now, she was more concerned with making sure that Vivi wasn’t worrying about her feelings. “Of course, I’m a tiny bit sad, Aunt Vivi,” she said. “But it’s not keeping me from being ecstatic for you and Michael. And everything looks absolutely beautiful.”
Vivian’s gaze followed Phae’s around the lobby, and Phaedra saw her aunt’s face light with a glow that wasn’t just fairy lights. Even though the courtship had been a whirlwind—surviving testicular cancer had given Michael a life-is-short attitude—Phaedra knew her aunt had fallen hard, and vice versa.
Michael stepped into the lobby just then. He was a good-looking, silver-haired man, slightly stooped, with a shy smile whose full wattage was turned completely on Vivian. Phaedra’s heart gave another painful squeeze. Not so long ago, Chris had looked at her like that. And then at some point he’d stopped. She’d missed the turning-point moment. She’d been so oblivious. And so blindsided, as a result.
“Viv. And Phae.” Michael dropped a chaste kiss on her aunt’s mouth and opened his arms to Phae for a hug. She hugged him back. She couldn’t have asked for a nicer new uncle if she’d chosen one herself, and she already loved him.
They were joined a moment later by Grace, the wedding planner, and the Reverend Steven Halser. Which left only Michael’s son still MIA.
“We’re waiting for your son, right?” Grace asked Michael.
He nodded. “I got a text. He’s stuck in traffic between Gearhart and Seaside.”
“We can wait,” Grace said.
“I think we can start without him,” Michael said. “It’s just a rehearsal. All he has to do is stand there.”
They took their places—Michael next to the priest under the evergreen-garlanded, twinkly archway, and Vivian and Phaedra in a quiet room to the side of the lobby. Grace tapped her phone and Vivi’s first processional—which would be played by live musicians at the wedding later today—wafted into the air. Arm in arm, Vivian and Phaedra proceeded down the aisle, between the two sections of seats.