The Wedding Pact Box Set - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,179

had destroyed her. And here he was turning her life upside down mere days before her wedding. Even if she hadn’t been on the verge of getting married to another man, it would have been madness to walk down that path a second time. “Fool me once, Melissa,” she said with a bitter tone. “He had his chance, and he blew it.”

“You really don’t believe in second chances?”

“No,” she said with more force than she’d intended, perhaps to convince herself. “And what are you doing advocating that I sleep with him? I’m marrying Neil in three days.” Blair stared her down with her iciest glare.

Most people would have crawled out the door, but Melissa squared her shoulders and held her gaze. “I never said to sleep with him, Blair. Your mind went there on its own. Don’t you think it means something?” Her voice softened, and she leaned forward. “I know you were thinking about him when I walked through that door, and you have never once looked that way while dating Neil. Not even in the beginning.”

Blair shook her head, her chest tightening. Panic flooded her senses. “Our relationship isn’t based on hormones. It’s built on respect. You know that.”

“But don’t you want love, Blair?”

“I want lots of things, Melissa.” Her voice shook, but it wasn’t with anger. “I want to eat my weight in chocolate cake, but it doesn’t mean I should. In fact, it’s quite bad for me.” She waved her hand toward her assistant. “Alcoholics crave a drink, but it doesn’t mean they should have one.”

“Blair.”

“No. Wanting something doesn’t mean you should have it. In fact, it often means you shouldn’t.” Melissa didn’t respond, and Blair’s panic surged, stealing her breath. “I’m getting married in three days, Melissa,” she said again.

Understanding filled her assistant’s eyes. “I know.”

She shook her head, feeling herself lose control. “I can’t trust him. I don’t trust him. He walked out on me, and he had another woman in his apartment the very next night.”

“Maybe it wasn’t what you thought.”

“She was in her trashy underwear.” Blair’s voice rose, and her lack of control scared her more than her feelings for Garrett. What in the hell was happening to her?

Melissa was silent for a moment. “Everyone makes mistakes, Blair. Even you. Think about it.” Then she stood and walked to the door. “I’ll let you know when the car arrives.”

The door shut, and Blair sucked in deep breaths, trying to calm down. She was dangerously close to crying, and she couldn’t figure out why. She’d shed her tears over Garrett years ago, so she sure as hell didn’t want to shed new ones now. Suddenly the room was too small. Her dress was too tight. Her life too confining. She stood and began to pace, chanting a mantra in her head. “I don’t need him. It’s going to be okay.”

It was the very mantra she’d taught herself five years ago.

Tears burned her eyes, but she continued to walk her straight lines, and after several minutes passed, the numbness in her face and head slowly faded. By the time Melissa buzzed in to say her car had arrived, she was relatively calm. By the time she reached the elevator, she had convinced herself everything really was going to be okay.

That was, if she survived her wedding shower.

Chapter Eleven

Garrett hit his hotel bar as soon as he left the hospital. It was probably the least productive thing he could do, but he needed courage—not to mention inspiration—to go through with his nonexistent plan.

He was on his second beer when he heard a familiar voice behind him. “Do all you lawyers waste your money on fancy beer?”

He turned and a grin spread across his face. An older woman leaned on a four-legged steel cane, the feet covered with neon orange tennis balls. She wore a pair of jeans with a white knit shirt. Her face was covered with the deep wrinkles and brown spots of someone who’d spent most of her life under the sun. He knew for a fact that a few scars on her face were from skin cancer removals. Late seventies or not, she was stronger than anyone he knew. Yet she’d aged quite a bit since he’d seen her last. She looked thinner and more fragile. The cane she was leaning on didn’t help. “It’s not a fancy beer, Nana. It’s Coors. Just like you taught me to drink.” He’d give her a hug, but she’d never been big on displays of