Wedding Date with the Best Man. Melissa McClone
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found the loves of their lives. Jayne could never regret the end of her engagement and the wild weekend with her friends in Las Vegas afterward that had brought romance and so much happiness to the three people who mattered most in her life.
She flipped over the postcard she’d received two months ago and reread Serena’s loopy, almost whimsical handwriting.
Jayne
Having a great time! This trip was the perfect way to celebrate Jonas’ election victory and recoup from campaigning! As soon as we’re home you must come to Las Vegas! I want to see you! Alex and Molly want to see you, too!
Hope all is well! Miss you!
Love,
Serena and Jonas
The number of exclamation points brought a smile to Jayne’s lips. Serena lived life as if an exclamation point belonged after everything she did, whether at work or play, but she’d found her center with Jonas Benjamin, the newly elected mayor of Las Vegas. He absolutely adored his wife.
As soon as we’re home you must come to Las Vegas!
Jayne wanted to see her friends, but she’d been putting off their invitations to visit. Venturing back to the neon-lit city, with its monstrous resorts and hundred-degree-plus temperatures, held little appeal and way too many memories of the time right after the breakup. Hmmm, maybe she could talk them into coming to San Diego instead. Her friends could bring their husbands and show the three men what their lives here had used to be like.
A life Jayne was still living.
She placed the postcard next to the plate of scones on the table and adjusted the book in her hands. Happily living, she reminded herself, even if her dreams had been put on hold and she was alone. Again.
She focused on the page, mentally taking notes on fresh ideas that might help the clients she counseled at the debt management center where she worked. No wonder the book had hit the bestsellers’ list. The author had some great ideas for getting one’s finances under control.
Several minutes later, the noise level in the teahouse increased exponentially, as if a crowd had entered all at once.
She looked up from the book, glanced behind her and saw a large group of women standing around and holding presents.
Her gaze collided with someone she recognized—Savannah Strickland, her ex-fiancé’s youngest sister. A look of disbelief filled Savannah’s hazel eyes before she turned away.
Was this a birthday party? Perhaps a baby shower for Grace, the oldest sister? Her third child must be due soon.
Curious, Jayne peeked at the colorfully wrapped presents. No bunnies. No duckies. No baby carriages. A few umbrellas, though.
Rich’s other sister, Betsy, noticed Jayne, gasped and elbowed her twin, Becca. Both turned bright pink.
Jayne didn’t understand their embarrassment. Sure this was a little awkward, considering what their brother had done to her, but his sisters weren’t to blame for his…
Oh, no.
There she was.
Every single one of Jayne’s nerve-endings stood at attention with a combination of shock and horror.
The other woman.
The reason Jayne was still single and her three friends were now married.
She forced her gaping mouth closed.
Jayne had only seen the woman once. At Rich’s apartment. Days before their wedding. A living, breathing Barbie doll in lingerie.
Today, the woman’s modest Wedgwood-blue dress and smart cap-sleeved white jacket were one hundred and eighty degrees from the black push-up bra with a bow at the center and the lace-trimmed leggings she’d worn at Rich’s place. The pristine white headband securing long, straightened blonde locks was a far cry from the bed-tousled hair that had left no room for misinterpreting what had been going on between two consenting adults.
But it was her.
The woman’s flushed cheeks were exactly the same.
And so were Jayne’s feelings of betrayal.
Not a baby shower, she realized, stricken to the heart. A wedding shower.
Rich was getting married, and his sisters were throwing a bridal shower for the woman their brother had cheated on her with.
Jayne struggled to breathe.
Look away, she told herself. But, like a moth drawn to a flame, Jayne couldn’t.
The scene was surreal and eerily familiar. A lot like her own bridal shower.
Tears stung her eyes. A lump formed in her throat.
How could his sisters bring her here? It was as if Jayne had never existed in their lives. As if she hadn’t spent every Sunday having brunch at their parents’ house or helped paint Grace’s kids’ bedrooms or a hundred other things Jayne had done with them.
For them.
For Rich.
Having him betray her was one thing—but his entire family, too?
Her stomach roiled. Jayne thought she might be sick.
Self-preservation instincts kicked in. Get out. Now.
She shoved her book into her purse, ripped out a twenty-dollar bill from her wallet and tossed the money on the table. The amount was double the cost of her tea and scones, but for once she didn’t care about wasting a few dollars.
Jayne stood.
Someone called her name.
She cringed.
Not someone, but Grace, Rich’s oldest sister—the one person in his family who’d called after the breakup to see how Jayne was faring.
Torn between what she wanted to do and what she should do, she looked over to see a very pregnant Grace. The concern in her eyes—eyes the same color and shape as Rich’s—pricked Jayne’s heart. She gave her almost-sister-in-law a pained, hesitant smile. That was all she could manage at the moment.
Grace moved awkwardly through the crowded room toward her.
No!
The air rushed from Jayne’s lungs.
She had no idea what Grace wanted, but only one thing, one horrible thought, sprang to mind. No way could Jayne allow herself to be introduced to that woman. The other woman. The future Mrs. Rich Strickland.
A potent dose of anxiety fueled Jayne’s already desperate panic. She mouthed I’m sorry to the fast approaching Grace, turned and fled.
The next day, Grace Strickland Cooper stood at the sink in her parents’ kitchen after her family’s weekly get-together for Sunday brunch. “I need a favor.”
Must be his turn to wash. Tristan MacGregor stopped drying a saucepan and stared into the familiar brown eyes of his best friend’s oldest sister. “If you leave your husband and two and three-quarter kids and run away with me, I’ll do anything you ask.”
Grace motioned with wet hands to her bulging baby-filled stomach. “Oh, yes. I’m exactly what an adventurous photojournalist wants to wake up next to every morning.”
“You’re a beautiful woman. Any man would want to wake up next to you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I bet you say that to all the girls, pregnant or not.”
“I will neither confirm nor deny.” He hung the saucepan on one of the pot rack’s hooks. “Though I usually try to stay away from the pregnant ones.”
She shook her head. “You never change, MacGregor.”
He