Page 38 of The Best Man Wins

He presses a swift kiss to my cheek and then peels back. “What’s the damage?”

“They’re all inside, but if this goes anything like the cake tasting, I’m going to need backup.”

“Copy that,” Thom says. He opens the door for me, and we slip inside together.

There are a couple of long, plush sofas, and the bridal party is all spread out on them. They’re sitting as they would on the aisles—Cora’s girls on one side, Ray’s girls on the other. Mandy sits on Ray’s side. Roxanne sits in the middle of it all, making small talk across the aisle.

“Mandy is here,” Thom observes. “I’m guessing you didn’t shag Braxton into submission?”

“Words were…had,” I say. “Submission happened. And then Cora wooed the jilted lover on all her own.”

“Imagine that,” Thom says. “Perhaps you have an angel on your side.”

“Is everyone ready?” The voice is Cora’s, a small squeak from behind the fitting room curtain.

The bridal party claps and hoots. “Show us your bod!” Candace calls out.

Cora throws the curtain back and makes a grand entrance. “Tada!”

“Oh,” Thom and I say simultaneously.

The dress is…well. Terrible. It cuts off short above her knees with thin straps over her shoulders. A diamond pattern runs up the white fabric, climbing her form. The whole mess is topped off with a small tiara.

“Oh, Cora,” Roxanne says and then falls silent.

Cora flashes a smile. “What do you think?” She spins.

“You’re beautiful, darling—a moment.” Thom grabs my arm and pulls me to the side. “You have to talk her out of that,” he hisses at me.

“She likes it.” I wave him away. “It’s her wedding, not yours. She can wear whatever makes her happy.”

“Trust me. As soon as she takes one look at the wedding pictures, she’s going to seppuku herself straight through that dress.”

I put my hands on Thom’s chest to slow him down. “Stop. Just…stop.” My phone buzzes in my pocket. I’ve got my eyes on Thom, so I answer the phone without checking the caller. “Yes?”

“Susie?”

Oh. Crap. That warm, velvet-smooth voice catches me off guard. My veins fill with ice, and I stumble out of Thom’s questioning gaze.

“Ace,” I whisper, my voice curt. “You need to stop calling me.”

“And you need to pick up your phone, buttercup.”

Buttercup. How many times did he whisper that word into the shell of my ear? My stomach clenches and a flurry of emotions batter around my chest like confused birds stuck in a chimney.

“We need to talk,” Ace continues.

“No. We don’t need to do anything.” I can feel my voice rise in the lobby of the bridal shop, and I can feel the stares that come with it, but I can’t be bothered. My temper makes my face red-hot. “You left me standing at the altar like an idiot…there’s really nothing to talk about.”

“Susie—”

“Stop calling me. Please.”

I hang up quickly and catch my breath. My heart pounds at a million beats a minute, and my head feels hazy.

“Susie.” Thom’s voice now. His hand rests on my shoulder, steadying me on my waving feet.

“That was Ace,” I say. My voice sounds strangely flat when I hear it in my ears. “He wants to talk.”

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