Page 84 of It's Complicated

We exit onto the fourth floor, quickly finding the bridal suite near the end of the hall.

We enter the room and find Kirsten, in a white sparkly robe, and her mother and sister sitting on a couch. Kirsten turns to us and smiles. “Ladies, you made it.”

The bride stands up, and she and Erin air-kiss. I awkwardly smile at the bride, sending strong, don’t-even-try-to-air-kiss-me brainwaves. They must reach Kirsten because she only smiles back.

“Here.” Kirsten passes each of us a flute of champagne. “Help yourselves.”

“Thank you.” I grab a glass and observe the room. It’s not nearly as opulent as the lobby, but it’s still pretty grand. More one-bedroom apartment than a hotel room.

The bridal party is assembled in the living area where two women and a man I don’t recognize are working on the maid of honor’s hair and makeup. The tall man pins and sprays, curls and fluffs, while the two women try to work around him on Britney’s face.

I’d laugh if it weren’t for the fact I’m going to be next.

I’ve never met Kirsten’s mother. I saw her for the first time last night at the rehearsal dinner, but I was in such a bad mood, I avoided all social interactions with strangers, hiding in the close circle of Aiden’s family.

Now I approach her to introduce myself while simultaneously trying to steer clear of Kendall. I didn’t like the smirk on the bride’s sister’s face at the mention of Jace’s absence last night. She’s smelling blood, and I wouldn’t put it past her to try something funny. Not that I’m really worried Jace would fall for it. Although, if she got to him before we had a chance to talk, he might do something impulsive—a sort of self-destructive rebound.

“Hello, dear,” Kirsten’s mom says a few bits after I’ve clearly made an approach and then stood silently planted in front of her without saying a word. The mother of the bride stands up from the couch. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Hi, Mrs. Cunningham, I’m Lori, one of Aiden’s oldest friends.”

“Oh, please call me Kimberly,” she says.

Ooh. So you really can’t be a woman in the Cunningham club without a K-starting name.

“Okay, Kimberly.” I take the hand she offers me. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

We exchange a few more pleasantries and make more polite chit-chat until my turn comes to go under the knife—I mean under the curling iron.

Then in no time at all, an usher comes knocking on the door, informing us that all the guests have arrived and the groom and groomsmen are already waiting for us in the Red Lacquer Room.

This is it. I’m going to see Jace for the first time after our fight.

I collect the hem of my long skirt and march out of the bridal suite like I’m about to enter a war zone.

35

JACE

A few hours earlier…

I arrive at my apartment mid-morning on Tuesday. At once, as I step past the threshold, something seems odd. I peek into the kitchen. There are two washed mugs and a clean glass on the counter. No bottle of vodka in the sink. Did Aiden get rid of it when he was here? I can’t remember.

I move into my room and stop dead in my tracks when I see a black stain on my pillow. Is that mascara?

I sit on the bed and grab the pillow to then bring it to my nose. It’s faint, but I can still smell the scent of Lori’s shampoo: coconut and shea butter.

Was she in my house? When? Did she sleep in my bed?

I rush back into the hall and buzz the day doorman.

“Dr. Barlow, how can I be of assistance?”

“Hi, Peter, I just wanted to check if you let Lori into my apartment?”

“When?”

“Anytime in the past week. Please check since last Tuesday.”

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