Page 19 of Pucking Wild

7

Heart in my throat, I leave the dance floor, trying to put as much distance between Ryan and me as possible. Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past him to follow after me. But I don’t look back. Somehow, I fear it might hurt more to see he’snotfollowing me.

Tears sting my eyes, blurring my vision, as I duck out of the first open door I see. The moment the cool L.A. air hits my lungs, I suck in a ragged breath. “Fuck,” I whimper, hating how easy it is for Ryan to turn me into such a mess.

I’m just tired. That’s what this is. And I’m probably a little drunk. Nothing some sleep and a few Advil can’t fix by morning.

It’s quieter out here, the sound of the music dampened by the wall of thick glass. Soft golden light stretches out across Hal Price’s manicured lawn. To my left is the open space that leads out to the stage area. To the right is the pool.

I move right, angling for the lounge furniture. I’ll just take a minute to sit and breathe. And I’m taking these damn shoes off. Heck, at this point, I feel like throwing them in the pool.

Maybe I’ll throw myself in too.

Sink to the bottom.

Count to one thousand.

My pity party is interrupted by the sound of a deep voice. I turn the corner to see another secluded seating area. Soft patio lights hang on the underside of an arbor, casting a twinkling, golden glow. Ilmari paces in his shirtsleeves, phone to his ear. He’s speaking low in Finnish.

I studied Latin and Greek in school, and I know just enough Italian to get myself into fun trouble on vacation. My ear desperately tries to pick out even a single word of his language, but Finnish is completely incomprehensible to me.

He turns in his pacing and stills, his eyes narrowing on me.

I give him a little awkward wave.

He surprises me by pointing to one of the empty chairs, inviting me to stay. Then he’s turning away, humming something into the phone. He lets out a soft laugh, pacing to the other end of the oversized sectional.

I drop into the closest chair with a sigh. Sticking my leg out the slit of my dress, my tired fingers fumble for the strap of my shoe. I wanna cry when I finally get them both off, kicking them to the side.

Ilmari finishes his phone call and turns to face me. “Sorry about that,” he says.

“Not at all. I interrupted you,” I reply. “It’s a bit late for a phone call, isn’t it?”

“Not in Finland. It’s nearly one in the afternoon in Helsinki.”

“Right. Was that your agent?”

“My adoptive father. I wanted them to hear from me the news of the wedding before word reached them via the press.”

“And…is he happy for you? Is he sad to have missed the wedding?”

“My aunt is devastated,” he replies, taking a seat on the couch opposite me. “She made me promise to bring them all to Finland this summer.”

We sit in silence for a moment, the pulse of the music thrumming against the wall. I get the feeling something’s bothering him. We’ll call it the particular angle of his scowl.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

He clears his throat and shifts.

“Mars—”

“I fear I may have made a decision in haste,” he admits. “I am regretting it now immensely.”

My stomach drops out. “Ohmygod. Mars, are you having second thoughts? ‘Cause if you walk out on Rachel after three hours of marriage—”

“What? I’m not talking about Rachel—”

I gasp, my hand covering my mouth. “Then is it the guys? If you think you’ll pry her away from them—”

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