Baiting the Maid of Honor (19 page)

insistent ache from spreading the longer she went without seeing him. If anything, the churning feeling

should strengthen her resolve. If she felt this terrible after only a few days with Reed, allowing their

affair to last through the week would prove infinitely worse. The assurance did nothing to quash the

urge to go find him. Apologize for her harsh parting words. Apologize for saying one thing and

communicating another with her body. For everything.

Attempting to focus, Julie pushed the door open and slipped inside. Christine lay on the bed, ankle

propped on a pillow, one arm flung over her eyes.

“I told you to leave,” she said tearfully.

Julie winced. “Hey, sweetie. It’s just me.”

“Oh.” Christine quickly swiped at her eyes. “Hey, Julie. Come on in.”

“If this is a bad time—“

“No!” Eyes toward the ceiling, she blew out a shaky breath. “Actually, I could really use the

company. I feel like such a clumsy idiot. Anything you can do to take my mind off this would be much

appreciated.”

She held up a white box and shook it. “Fudge squares?”

“Bingo.”

Julie sank down on the end of the bed and toed her shoes off. “Truth be told, even world-class

athletes sprain their ankles, Christine. And they don’t look half as good doing it.”

“I was distracted,” she mumbled around a fudge square. “And stupid.”

“I can relate.”

“Reed as difficult as he looks?”

Her head whipped around. “Why do you assume—oh, forget it. Everyone knows, don’t they?”

Christine responded by popping another piece of fudge into her mouth.

Julie debated for a moment over whether or not to disclose the entire story to Christine.
If you

can’t tell your best friend you’ve fallen for an impossible man who spanks your lady parts, who

can you tell?

She sent Christine a sly smile. “Remember that guy in college? Bobby Cox was his name. He

brought me flowers and took me for a helicopter ride on our second date. Brought along wine and had

the pilot play a Norah Jones CD to get me in a kissing mood. Remember?”

Christine sighed dreamily. “Political science major. Blond. Yeah, I remember.”

She dropped the smile. “Well, this is nothing like that.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Reed doesn’t do the woo. I’d hazard to guess that he doesn’t even know who Norah Jones

is.”

Mouth full, Christine sadly shook her head.

“Uh-huh.” Julie picked at the comforter. “He doesn’t compliment. Or try to find things we have in

common. He doesn’t ask. He takes.” She thought about the way he’d made sure she got something to

eat after the party at Spago. The way he’d cleaned up so she wouldn’t have to. His refusal to let her

search alone in the dark woods. “But when he does make an effort, even just the smallest thing”—
like

chanting my name until his voice goes hoarse, taking me to that hot spring
—“it blows Bobby Cox

and his Norah Jones CD out of the water.”

She glanced over to find Christine studying her. Wordlessly, her friend handed her the box of fudge,

which she gratefully accepted.

“Can I ask you a question, Christine?”

“You know you can.”

Julie hesitated. “Am I different? Since Serena…?”

Christine tilted her head, eyes full of sympathy. “You’re the same person, Julie. The same person

with different priorities.”

Absorbing that, she nodded. “Right.”

“What brought this on?” Christine’s eyes widened. “Oh God. Today…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Julie rushed to say. “And please, don’t remind any of the girls. This week

is about Kady.” She patted Christine’s arm when she nodded reluctantly. “Anyway, the anniversary is

only partially responsible. Reed said…he thinks I’m overcompensating for Serena’s absence. Trying

to
be
her.”

Her friend paled. That’s when Julie knew there’d been some truth behind his words. Why had no

one ever said anything? How could she not have seen it?

She shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “Guess he was right.”

“No. Not entirely.” Christine exhaled on a sigh. “But we all worry you take on too much.” She laid

her hand over Julie’s. “I don’t know Reed. But is it possible he said it out of concern? You’ve been

working yourself to the bone. It’s hard for the people who care about you to ignore.”

“He doesn’t…it’s not like that with us. It’s sex. Plain and simple.”

“Julie.” Christine pursed her lips. “Give me some credit. I’m an investigative journalist. When that

man is around you, he looks like he doesn’t know whether to kiss you breathless or tie you to a chair

so you will finally relax.” She laughed at Julie’s stunned expression. “Does he want to jump your

bones? Yes. But for my money? He wants more than inappropriate activities involving a ladder.”

She gasped. “How did you know about that?”

“I didn’t. I suspected it when I interrupted you two. You just confirmed my hunch.”

“How come you haven’t won a Pulitzer yet?”

Christine smirked. “All in good time.”

Feeling slightly better, even though she still had
a lot
to think about, Julie flopped back on the bed.

She didn’t believe Christine’s assessment of Reed, but she needed to stop thinking about him for now.

Against her will, she’d let herself develop some seriously complicated feelings for a man who saw

her faults way too easily. One who would leave her behind at the earliest opportunity. She spoke

around the lump in her throat. “Your turn. What had Tyler walking out of here like a scolded toddler?

Christine stared off into space. “It’s a long, long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

Chapter Sixteen

Well heck
, Julie thought, surveying the nearly silent bridal party in the ballroom. Where was Reed?

Rain and howling wind battered the floor-to-ceiling windows, putting a damper on the already-

gloomy mood inside and preventing escape to the outdoors. The atmosphere was so thick, if you tried

to cut it with a knife, the knife would get good and stuck. Leaving you weaponless. Sort of how she

felt at the moment. Defenseless, unsure of herself. Anxious.

Would Reed show up to dance rehearsals or blow it off? Just the thought of seeing him made her

pulse pound, even as she dreaded coming face-to-face with him after their last encounter. Seeing the

judgment on his face. The pity. Perhaps she’d see none of it. Only the evidence that he’d mentally

moved on.

Which would be worse? At this point, Julie couldn’t tell. Nor could she allow herself to think

about it another second. Pigs would fly before she spent the anniversary of Serena’s death obsessing

over a stubborn, unavailable man. Four years ago today, when she’d received the call that would

forever be seared into her brain, she’d been on the way to hang banners at a pep rally for the football

team, deciding which postgame party to attend, wondering if her butt looked fat from certain angles in

the mirror. So frivolous. Pointless. She wouldn’t be that girl again. Worrying about things she

couldn’t change. Reed was one of those things.

Julie took a fortifying breath and surveyed the room. Apparently she and Reed weren’t the only

ones who’d quarreled. Christine and Tyler were having a hushed, seemingly tense conversation on the

far side of the room, Regan was pointedly ignoring Brock, and Sophie—well, damn, she’d gone and

dressed herself up like a rebellious preacher’s daughter. She looked dynamite. Julie raised her

eyebrows when she saw Logan take careful notice of the transformation. Kady and Colton entered the

room laughing, but their steps faltered as the obvious tension rolled over them, too.

“Uh…good evening?” Kady said hesitantly.

Julie swallowed her nerves as Francois entered the ballroom behind the smitten couple, saving

them from an uncomfortable silence when no one responded to the bride-to-be’s greeting. A middle-

aged man with obviously dyed jet-black hair, Francois’s every movement appeared planned, elegant.

With a flutter of his fingers, he waved without looking to the sullen group and crossed to Julie, whom

he’d correctly guessed—probably from the huge smile plastered to her face—was in charge.

Hopefully he couldn’t tell her face felt seconds from crumbling. She’d planned this wedding to

perfection, wanting it to be beautiful and memorable for her friend. Yet judging from the mood,

everyone seemed hell-bent on ruining it. After Reed calling her out in the forest, even
she
was

questioning her own motivation. Did she enjoy the exhaustive planning or was she punishing herself?

No time to think about it now.

“Monsieur!” Julie added extra wattage to her smile and held out her hand, which the dance

instructor shook once, inclining his head. “As you can tell, we are so excited to begin. Been looking

forward to this for days, in fact.”

She politely ignored the snort leveled from Regan’s direction.

Francois nodded, giving everyone a critical once-over. “Right, then. So
this
is what I’m working

with.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Everyone get a partner. Your hour has begun

and we must not waste anyone’s time. Mine especially.”

Everyone shifted uncomfortably, unsure of who to partner with. When an impatient Francois

clapped his hands loudly, Regan strolled over to Logan, put her hand on his shoulder, and sent him a

dazzling smile, which he eventually returned, if slightly less enthusiastic. Tyler whispered something

to Christine and helped her to the dance floor. Gaze still fixed on Regan, Brock held out a hand to

Sophie, who gratefully accepted.

It struck Julie that she didn’t have a partner. Reed still hadn’t walked through the door. Francois

was busy walking around, correcting everyone’s posture. She’d just have to learn the dance visually.

Julie backed away from the group until she connected with the wall, leaning against it. She would not

let this upset her. She would
not
. Tears threatened under her eyelids nonetheless. Tears that had

nothing to do with dance lessons, prickly instructors, or feuding friends. Things that would normally

get under her skin so deep she wouldn’t rest until she righted them. Instead, she encountered sorrow

for her sister, self-pity for herself, anger toward Reed for dredging up all these emotions, then leaving

her to drown in them. It all rose to the surface, pulling her under. Thankfully, everyone appeared too

caught up in their own situation to notice her smile finally fall prey to the pressure.

Julie had no idea how long she stood there, watching the proceedings without actually seeing them.

After catching one or two worried glances in her direction, she’d zoned out. Numbed by grief and

confusion over too many feelings at once. She’d spent too long fixing everyone else. Now she had no

idea how to fix herself.

Angry whispering, coming from Christine and Tyler, snapped her out of her daze. Swallowing her

emotions, she started forward, intent on mediating the argument before it disrupted the lesson. Kady

beat her to it. She pulled away from Colton with an irritated groan. Her arms encompassed the entire

bridal party as she yelled, “What the hell is wrong with everyone?”

No one answered. With a muffled scream, Kady spun on her heel and slammed out of the ballroom,

Sophie and a worried-looking Colton in her wake. Everyone stared at one another for a moment, then

one by one began to disperse, beginning with an all-too-happy-to-bail Regan. Francois threw up his

hands, muttering in French, and began to storm off. Julie, watching the disaster unfold with dawning

horror, sprang into motion. She couldn’t let some lover’s spat ruin her best friends nuptials.

“Wait. We’re not finished, you guys. You need to know this dance for the reception.” No one paid

her any attention, all their focuses elsewhere. Julie targeted the instructor. “Francois—”

“Monsieur,” he corrected her.

“Monsieur, please. Give me five minutes to straighten this out. I’ll—”

He shook his head in disgust. “They are unteachable.”

Julie was prepared to bribe him if necessary, but the instructor stomped out of the room before she

could even open her mouth. One by one, everyone followed, some murmuring heartfelt apologies to

her as they went. When she stood alone in the giant ballroom, she sank to the floor like a puppet.

Done. She was done. Every ounce of strain rushed to the fore until it felt like she was drowning. No

matter how hard she tried, her efforts were never enough. Everyone could dance the Macarena at the

reception for all she cared. If someone rustled up a limbo stick, she wouldn’t even bat an eyelash.

Obviously everyone would prefer that to a waltz. She flat-out didn’t give a hoot anymore. What the

hell was the point? She would never be good enough. Never be Serena.

I guess everyone is just going to have to settle for Julie.
She hurled the clipboard across the room

and took out a potted plant. “
Damnitshitheadbastardmotherfucker!
”

…

Reed sat at the hotel bar, a glass of whiskey untouched in front of him. Picking it up and bringing it to