SUNLIGHT BURNED THROUGH Bonnie’s closed eyelids. She rolled over, squeezing her eyes shut tighter, but the glaring light continued to sear her retinas. Odd. There aren’t any windows on this side of my bedroom … Her lids popped open. Spring sunshine beamed in from the floor-to-ceiling windows, so bright she expected to hear trumpets blaring and angels singing.
She sat up and fisted her hands, rubbing her eyeballs. Right. She wasn’t in her bedroom. She was in the posh suite of a Gold Coast hotel, the east-facing wall of windows offering a panoramic view of the sunrise over the city and Lake Michigan. And the bed she was ensconced in was not her own, but a king-sized confection of downy comforters and luxurious sheets. She pulled the ultra-soft, ultra-smooth covers over her head and lay back down, trying to blot out the image of what she’d seen happening on her own bed last night. But just as the morning sun broke through the darkness of her cocoon, the memory of last night broke through the haze of her thoughts.
Damn it, Gabe. Did you have to do that on Grandma Mary’s quilt?
Bonnie rolled over, smashing her face into the plush pillows. The annoying sunlight couldn’t get to her now, but neither could necessary air. Still, she lay there, face buried, until her lungs ached. Turning her head to the side, she inhaled, gulping oxygen. Something vibrated near her hip. What the hell?
She searched beneath the covers. The vibrating was her phone. She’d set it to silent last night after Gabe had tried calling twice. It rang again, buzzing against her palm, the screen lighting up with Gabe’s number and picture. Nope, not talking to you, jerkface. She sat up and glared at her screen.
The photo was one she’d taken of Gabe last summer when they’d gone for ice cream at Navy Pier. Her stomach lurched violently. Had he been cheating on her even then? It was very possible the day she’d snapped this picture, the man grinning up at her with the goofy-sweet smile she thought she knew so well had been fucking somebody else.
Her phone went still, the screen dark. Either it had clicked to voice mail, or he’d given up. She dropped the phone and rocked back and forth on the mattress, arms wrapped tight around her middle. Everything hurt, like she’d been hit by a truck. In a way, she had. The realization Gabe had been cheating on her had run her over, pulled the rug of reality out from under her. Because what she’d believed to be real, had been a lie. The man she thought she’d been engaged to didn’t exist, and neither did the future she thought they would have together.
Slowly, she stopped rocking and unclasped her middle. She stared at her fists, at the bare ring finger on her left hand. Maybe she could stay in bed all day. Wake up once the sun had retreated to the other side of the city. Bonnie knew what the mature thing to do was. The mature thing was to go back to her apartment and face Gabe.
And she would. Eventually. She needed clean clothes, after all. But she didn’t want to be mature today. She wanted to hide out for the rest of the weekend in this sanctuary of a hotel suite and continue to reject Gabe’s calls. As if conjuring the devil with a thought, her phone vibrated again. She reached for it and slid her thumb over the reject button.
A small wave of pleasure rippled through her. Yes, she rejected him. She rejected the cheating-asshole-scum-of-the-earth-excuse-for-a-man she’d almost married.
Well, not even almost. He’d done her that much of a favor. God, just imagine. If they had picked a date and she’d already sent out invitations to a hundred-plus people, had put a deposit on a venue, bought a dress … If she’d found out about his extracurricular activities after all that?
The thought of having to tell people the wedding was off made her wish she had a fainting couch handy.
Telling people the engagement was off was going to be bad enough.
Especially telling her mother.
Oh God, her mother.
Mom never had a wedding of her own, the day after turning eighteen, she and Dad had strolled into the county clerk’s office and got married by a justice of the peace. No frills, no fuss. And while Bonnie’s parents’ marriage was strong, getting married and having a baby so young had been a struggle for the couple in other ways. They’d had to start out on their own with nothing.
When Bonnie was in middle school, her mom had decided it was time to finally venture into the workforce. She’d earned her certification to become a travel agent and enjoyed helping people plan all the fancy vacations she could never afford to take herself. Mom had been a big part of making Bonnie’s dream vacation a reality last summer, helping plan the itinerary with such joy and excitement you’d think she had been going along too. But that’s just how Connie Blythe was; she threw herself into everything she did 110 percent.
Which was one of the reasons why it was going to be so hard to tell her mom the wedding was off. Connie’s latest pet project had been Gabe and Bonnie’s wedding, and more importantly, their honeymoon. Her mother had spent hours perusing websites and stockpiling glossy brochures of smiling couples lounging on beachfront hammocks, traipsing through exotic city streets, and dining with a view of breathtaking landscapes. Mom had put together several honeymoon package options, and now Bonnie was going to have to tell her to forget all about it. There would be no wedding, and there would be no honeymoon.
Her phone buzzed. A text this time. But it wasn’t Gabe, it was Cassie.
Did her best friend already know the wedding was off? Had Gabe called Cassie, looking for Bonnie, and explained what happened? She braced herself and opened the text.
Cassie: Are you free this afternoon?
Bonnie glanced around the hotel room. Studied the giant flat-screen TV and the big bed she’d planned to hide in all day.
Bonnie: I’m not sure.
Cassie: Come on, this is important.
Bonnie: What’s important? She held her breath, waiting for the answer.
Her phone vibrated with an incoming call. Cassie.
Bonnie didn’t pick up right away. Instead, she turned the volume on her ringer back up, listening to the song. A few months ago, Cassie had suggested they make special ringtones for each other. Bonnie had picked a Spice Girls song. It annoyed the hell out of Cassie, but as an unabashed fan of what her friends referred to as nineties chick-pop, Bonnie loved it. Once the chorus ended, she answered the phone.
“Bon? Is everything all right?” Cassie’s voice was curious. Unsure, but not upset.
She didn’t know.
“Yeah.” Bonnie took a breath and fiddled with the ends of the hotel’s bathrobe tie. Lying to Cassie was never easy. “What’s so important, anyway?”
“Come on, Bon. The offer from last night. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Are you free this afternoon or not?” Cassie demanded.
The robe’s tie slipped from her fingers. “Huh?”
“Cambridge? Shakespeare? Remember? Philip, Barbara’s professor friend, flies home tomorrow, and they were hoping to meet with you today.”
“Oh.” With everything else that happened last night, she’d completely forgotten about the Cambridge offer. A clear sign of the current Dumpster fire status of her life—amazing dream job opportunity falls into her lap and proceeds to slip right out of her mind.
“You don’t have to say yes, but at least get all the details, so you know what you are saying no to.” Cassie continued, adding a seductive purr to her voice, “They want to meet for high tea at the Drake.”
Oh, her friend was good. Cassie knew all her weaknesses. “Your idea, I’m guessing?”
“My suggestion.” Cassie laughed. “Which they asked for. Well? Are you going?”
Cambridge. Shakespeare. England. One dream had just been shattered, why not make another come true? Could she do it? Could she really pack up everything and leave it all behind? It would only be for the summer. It wasn’t like she was giving up her job—or her life—messy as it was. And what was she leaving behind, anyway?
“Fine.” She glanced down at the hotel bathrobe again, and then at the discarded costume slung over a chair. If she was going to do this, she’d need some clean, twenty-first century clothes. “Tell them two o’clock.”