Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 52813 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 264(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52813 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 264(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
The champagne is nothing fancy, but the sweet bubbles go down easy, immediately calming me.
I’ll get the vows right. Everything will be fine. I’ll be in Owen’s arms in a few hours at the rehearsal.
“How’s your mom?” Kira asks.
The wedding party got together for breakfast this morning at a café in downtown Madison and my mom started feeling sick not long after we arrived. Owen’s parents insisted I stay at breakfast while they took her to the hospital to get fluids, which helped a lot. Then she went back to the hotel to rest, and when I stopped by her room at lunchtime she was smiling again.
“She’s doing a lot better. She’s saving her energy for the rehearsal dinner.”
“More?” Jo holds the bottle of champagne over my glass.
I nod, and between all of us, we empty the bottle.
That’s what I love about my friends. I’ve obviously been crying, but instead of mentioning it, they’re trying to pick me up. My life is going to change when I’m married, but I’ll always make time for these women.
Claire sets her glass down, looking ready for the next thing.
“Okay, so me and Stella will go grab the lip balms and meet you guys in the lobby. We’ll Uber to the rehearsal dinner place, drop off the bags and make sure everything else is set there.”
Jo arches a brow at me. “Think we have time to grab a drink at the bar?”
“I think you might need to start twelve-step meetings, and no.”
We split into two groups outside the room, Claire and I taking the elevator from the second floor to the fourth floor, where Owen’s room is. He thought it would be romantic for us to stay in separate rooms until our wedding night, and I agreed, but I wish our rooms could have been closer. It would be nice to slip out for a goodnight snuggle tonight, but I don’t really want to make an arduous trek for it.
“Is Ben bringing any of his teammates?” Claire asks as we step off the elevator.
Owen’s twin is a pro hockey player, and Claire is eternally hoping for a way in with either him or any other single player in the league.
“Same answer as two days ago, no.”
“Well, he could have changed his mind.”
“Why would Ben invite people? He’s not the one getting married.”
She hefts out a sigh. “You could’ve considered your best friend when making the guest list. Just saying.”
“I consider you a pain in my ass. Does that count?”
We reach Room 447, Owen’s room, and as I raise my hand to knock on the door, Claire reaches out and catches my fist in her own hand, stopping me.
As I open my mouth to ask her what’s going on, she quickly brings an index finger to her lips, silencing me. Her expression is serious as she releases her hold on my hand and leans an ear closer to the door.
I want to ask her what she’s doing, but she still has a finger over her lips, so I stay quiet. Her eyes widen. I lean an ear next to the door, too.
“Yes, harder...goddamn, baby.” A woman continues to moan and beg to be fucked harder for about twenty seconds before she finally finishes with a scream.
I lean away from the door, double check the room number, and motion with my fingers for Claire to follow me. We walk about fifteen feet away before I whisper, “Who’s in Owen’s room?”
“That’s a good question,” she whispers back.
I should have texted to let him know I was coming by to pick up the lip balm. I assumed he’d be in his room after golfing with the groomsmen. But not only isn’t he in there, someone else is fucking around in his bed.
“What if it’s Amir and he’s cheating on his wife? I can’t imagine Owen would let him use his room for that. Should we get out of here so he doesn’t see us?”
Claire’s single note of laughter is unamused. “I’m not leaving.”
“Why not?”
Her look is one of total pity. “Because it’s Owen’s room.”
I recoil, hurt. “You think it’s him? You think he’d do that to me?”
“I think we need to at least see who it is.”
I know Owen better than anyone. We dated off and on as kids, but we’ve always been friends. He wouldn’t do that to me. Owen is a good man.
“He’s marrying me tomorrow,” I hiss.
“Lower your voice,” she whispers.
“This is crazy. Owen and I trust each other.”
Claire types into her phone. “I’m telling the others to go on to the restaurant.”
I take out my phone. “I’m texting Owen.”
My best friend swipes my phone from my hand. “The fuck you are.”
I glare at her. She glares back.
“Stella, you can stand or you can sit, but we’re staying here until whoever’s in that room comes out.”