Thirty-Seven

Reagan plucked at the white fabric of her wedding gown’s satin skirt. White? Ha! Wedding? Gulp!

“Are you really going to wear combat boots with your wedding dress?” Toni asked her as she fastened a set of pearls around Reagan’s neck.

Reagan checked her reflection in the mirror and didn’t recognize herself. Her hair was arranged in short, silky curls around the glittering tiara of a veil. Her makeup was heavy but tasteful and made her look far more elegant than she felt. And she was wearing pearls, for fuck’s sake. Pearls! The only thing on her body that felt remotely normal was the combat boots hidden beneath the yards and yards off satin.

“Yep,” Reagan said, surprised such an ordinary word could come out of the mouth of the regal-looking woman in the mirror.

“Are you nervous?” Toni said, tugging at a bit of fabric here, a length of tulle there.

Reagan blew out her cheeks. “I’m not sure. I feel like I’m going to throw up—does that mean I’m nervous?” Or did it mean she was scared? Or maybe that her breakfast sausage had been spoiled. It wasn’t like she’d actually tasted it as she’d forced herself to eat it.

A quiet knock sounded on the door, and Reagan jumped. Her father poked his head inside, his eyes misting over at his first glimpse of the bride.

“It’s time,” he said, a breathless hitch in his voice.

Time? Already? Reagan took a deep breath and then another and reminded herself that the ceremony was primarily for show. She wasn’t giving up Ethan just because she was marrying Trey. In her heart, she was already married to them both. This wedding was just for legalities and public perception and . . . She swallowed the tight, queasy feeling rising up her throat.

“They’ve started. Are you ready?” Dad asked, holding out a hand in her direction.

She took it, crinkled her nose when she realized how damp her palm was, released his hold to wipe her hand on her pristine gown, and then took his hand again.

“You look beautiful, tiger,” Dad said as he led her to the hall.

“Thanks.” She patted the lapel of his gray tuxedo. “Looking pretty dapper there yourself, Daddy-O.”

Reagan caught a flash of a red skirt belonging to one of her wedding attendants before the double doors leading to the chapel closed. She tried to breathe through her anxiety as they waited for the wedding march to begin and the chapel doors to open.

The muffled wedding processional music ended inside the chapel, and the familiar strains of the wedding march swelled on a pipe organ. Or at least the recording of one did. Reagan closed her eyes—this was it—gave herself a mental shake—this was it—and took the first step at her father’s side. Oh God, this was it.

The chapel was packed—with reporters. Reagan forced her attention off the cameras and to the men she loved. Trey smiled at her in encouragement. Her heart fluttered at how handsome he looked. How familiar and loving. She could do this. Her gaze shifted to Ethan, standing beside Trey as his best man, except it wasn’t Ethan. It was Brian. She closed her eyes and opened them again, hoping to rid herself of the hallucination, but the image didn’t waver. The man standing beside Trey wasn’t Ethan. Brian and Dare were there with Trey, as expected, but no Ethan.

No Ethan.

Her gaze shifted to her side of the pulpit. Her friends who’d come all the way from California—Jamie and Summer—as well as Brian’s wife, Myrna, stood on her side as they’d been told. Still no Ethan. She scanned the front rows, checking familiar faces, but none belonged to the one she most needed to see.

She was suddenly standing before Trey and her father was giving her away and all she could think was Where is he? He promised he’d be there.

“It’s okay,” Trey said, offering her a supportive smile. “Don’t forget to breathe.”

“Where’s Ethan?” she whispered.

“He went to get the rings.”

“The rings?” They’d been in such a rush to get to the chapel after spending the morning recovering from their lovemaking that they must have forgotten the rings.

Trey nodded, blinking rapidly. “He never came back.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. The clergyman was prattling on in the background, but Reagan didn’t hear any of it. Not really.

Ethan wasn’t there.

That could only mean one thing.

He wasn’t okay with this. He’d never been okay with this. She was marrying one man she loved at the expense of the other.

“I can’t do this,” she said, not sure she’d actually spoken aloud until a single tear slipped down Trey’s cheek and he closed his eyes.

His hands tightened on hers, but she managed to pull them free.

“I love you, Trey,” she said, touching his warm cheek. She half expected him to flinch away from her, but he leaned into her palm instead. “Do you believe me?”

He nodded slightly. And one of them was trembling.

“I’m sorry. I can’t marry you. Not like this.” She turned, searching for an escape route. The double doors at the back of the chapel beckoned. She scarcely noticed the camera flashes as she gathered her obnoxious skirt in both hands and fled.