Page 9 of Three Grumpy Groomsmen

“The night is still young. And I’m cursing Brad’s name silently in my head. I’m also debating calling him and leaving an angry voicemail, or at the very least, logging out of our jointNetflix account and changing the password so he can’t watch a movie on his escape flight.”

“I think that’s fair.”

“So I’m winning at being a jilted bride?”

“You’re in like the top one percent of jilted brides.”

I laugh softly. Ford is trying to meet me where I need to be met. “You’re a very nice man, Ford Anderson. With terrible taste in best friends. Harrison notwithstanding.”

“I can’t argue with that.” He offers me his arm. “Should we do this? Or do you want to change first?”

“The only thing I have on site is a satin robe that says “Mrs.” so I think I’m stuck in this dress. Besides, this dress cost two months’ rent and I look fabulous in it.”

“You certainly do. You look incredible, Ivy.”

“Thank you.” I actually glance at the mirror positioned for the groomsmen to do tie checks, which is a mistake.

It’s a beautiful dress, elegant and form-fitting. My hair has never looked this shiny or effortlessly wavy. The diamond pendant earrings Brad gave me for Christmas sparkle in the sunlight from the window and my makeup, done by my makeup artist friend, Patrice, is slay-all-damn-day amazing.

I do look a little stunned, and a little flushed.

Like a bride who was left on her wedding day by her shitheel of a groom.

Who has not called or even texted me. Which means I’m not calling or texting him because he can’t have any explanation for me that could justify this behavior. I refuse to beg for answers as to how he could hurt and humiliate me this way.

Instead, I take a deep, fortifying breath and slip my engagement ring off of my finger. “Here. Do something with this before I flush it down the nearest toilet.”

My finger feels empty after the weight of the hefty diamond resting on it for the last four months.

But I’m determined not to make an ass of myself in front of anyone.

Ford takes the ring from me and I shiver at the unexpected brush of his warm flesh over mine. The little jolt of electricity startles me, makes me warm in places only the whiskey should be touching.

He just smiles reassuringly at me. “You’ve got this.”

“I do.”

I do.

Oh, the irony of that.

CHAPTER 3

Liam

Today was supposedto be a day I was going to just get through. Suck it up, tough it out, don’t be a selfish dick and be there for Ivy on her big day.

Nothappy for her.

That was never going to happen.

But supportive.

Not for one single second did I ever want her to marry Brad, who is definitely all wrong for her. He’s a narcissist, and she’s…Ivy.

Brilliant, sophisticated, loyal, confident and caring. Artistic and polished and talented, not to mention drop dead gorgeous. Even now, having been rejected and left in a very vulnerable position, she’s rocking that wedding gown, her body shown off to absolute perfection in the white silk.

I am so fucking proud of her for holding her head up high in the face of Brad’s horrible betrayal. I never liked the guy, but to stand her up on their wedding day?

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