Why drag this out? No reason. None at all. There were no second chances. Not with Kyle. Never with Jake. Only the delusional might believe any of this was fixable. In … one … two … three … Right. Time to call and make that appointment. I closed my eyes, my head shaking of its own accord. Signing those papers turned my abject failure into certain reality.
Envisioning a future with Jake in my current state of being was ludicrous. A monumental mistake, shredding me, surfacing every bleak and vulnerable moment of my past. The wedding.
If only I’d had the sense to stay home.
Chapter 1
Here I was—completely committed, yet totally miserable. Why? Why subject myself to this? It wasn’t like I had untold wealth to pay for two fabulous new outfits, or a direct flight from Vancouver to Toronto, or even the overpriced five-star hotel. My credit card protested the top-tier gift from the couple’s wedding registry, bought during a moment of guilt-induced weakness. Ah, guilt. The age-old inconvenient lure to do things you shouldn’t.
I smoothed the scarlet dress over my hips and squared my shoulders, grateful for the tiny boost of confidence. Time to resign myself to a fate of awkward reunions and false levity, but at least I didn’t have to walk down the aisle in a froth of blue chiffon, only to stand mere metres away from blissful best man, Jake, while his lovely wife looked on.
Taking one wobbly step forward, then two side-steps to dodge the partiers milling about inside, became its own feat of courage. I plastered on a smile and scanned the room, searching the crowd for familiar faces. Wait. I’d spotted it. Nirvana. Or at least close enough for tonight. Situated toward the back of the dim room, the gleaming, strobe-lit bar beckoned. Yup, a drink would loosen me up. Or maybe it would take two. Whatever. Nobody would keep track, especially not me. As long as I avoided the dreaded drunken striptease, getting a little tipsy was no big deal.
“Amara.” Vivienne, the maid of honour and a close friend from university, popped out of the crowd. “About time you got here.”
“Viv!” I threw my arms around her.
“So glad you came.” She curved an arm around my waist and drew me onto the dance floor. “Missed you,” she mouthed, pressing her hip to mine.
As we swayed to the music, thoughts niggled at me. Why had I cut myself off? Why had I even run in the first place? No. Absolutely no. Reminiscing and pining were rock-solid off-limits for tonight. Celebrating my amazing friend at this swanky bachelorette party took first priority. “Where is the bride, anyhow?”
“Dara’s dancing,” Vivienne said, fluttering her fingers toward the packed floor. “You look amazing.” She caught a strand of my dark curly hair, fluffing it slightly. “Love that you grew this out and left it natural. Gorgeous.”
Too soon, Viv released me, returning to her solitary moves, and my eyes drifted closed. I lifted my arms and lost myself in the steady thump. Song after song blended, real life fading into the background.
Too soon, Vivienne’s light touch on my arm dragged me back to reality. She fanned herself and pointed to a table half-surrounded by party guests. “I’m parched.”
A server descended the second we reached the table, dropping off several drinks before taking our order and hurrying toward the bar.
Vivienne leaned in close. “Next round, make it two so you can catch up.”
My thoughts exactly. Liquid courage may be the only thing that got me through this weekend.
“Wish you could have joined us for the shower,” Vivienne said.
“Sorry I missed it.” I pasted on a fresh smile. No matter how much I adored my friend, I couldn’t have faced the madness of a bridal shower. People would ask too many questions about my defunct marriage at a time when my friend was launching into her happy new life. “How was that?” I asked, accepting my extra-dry martini from the server.
“Ohhh! The guys will be here soon.” A woman on my left craned her neck, peering toward the door.
“The guys?” I gulped several mouthfuls of my drink and glanced toward the entrance while trying to place her vaguely familiar face. Brief flashes connected in my mind. The woman had hovered on the periphery of our group at Dalhousie University before Jake and I became an item. Kara? Carmen?
“The men from the bachelor party. I hear there will be several eligible hotties.” She performed a small jig, wiggling her hips, her breasts quivering under her low-cut top. “Got my eye on a doctor.”
“Do you remember Celia?” Vivienne whispered in my ear. “She’s a bridesmaid. It should have been you Dara asked, not her.”
Right. Celia. Yes, yes. I wrinkled my nose as I pictured that long-ago night at one of our regular haunts, and the woman’s blatant passes at pretty much anything male that moved. Her constant ogling of Jake irked me, though that had been before he and I became an us. “It’s fine, Viv. I’m happier being a guest. Imagine how strange it would be to—”
Celia’s shrill squeal drowned out everything but the thud of the bass and she, along with several of the other ladies, abandoned the table. The decibel level rose as the fresh batch of men flooded into the room. Fortunately, Jake didn’t seem to be among the new arrivals, so I drained my drink and shook out my tense muscles.
“Now the real partying begins, just like old times.” Vivienne sucked back the last of her cocktail and rose from her seat in one lithe move, tugging on my arm and dragging me into the crush on the dance floor.
When I finally made it to the bar and claimed a stool, I was hot and flushed, suffering from aching feet and a burning throat. “Water, please,” I said,
