and I always talked everything out. I mean, maybe we haven’t done a lot of talking lately, but with the wedding planning, my job, his job, we’ve both been busy.” She swept a stray hair away from her face. “I thought everything was fine. He’d told me he was fine. Clearly he wasn’t. Couldn’t he have said something to me? Like, ‘Hey, Erin, I don’t want to get married’? That would have been a great start.”
Jason read the anguish on her face and he wanted to pull her close, to comfort her. But he also read the tension in her body and knew now wasn’t the time.
Damn. How could his best friend do this to . . . his other best friend?
Erin straightened. “Well, anyway, screw him. I’ve decided we’re still going ahead with the reception.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Everything is paid for and we won’t get our money back if we cancel anything. So we’re going to have one hell of a party.”
“You don’t have to do that, Erin. Everyone will understand if you want to cancel.”
“But see, that’s the thing. I don’t want to. I might not be getting married, but I’ll have the best damn non-wedding reception this town has ever seen. And I’ll expect everyone to be there. Well, not Owen’s family, of course. But everyone else should come. You’ll come, won’t you?”
If there was one thing he was sure of about Erin Bellini, it was her determination. And he could tell from the look on her face that she was determined not to spend this weekend acting like the jilted bride. But there was no way to know how this non-wedding party of hers was going to play out. So he would be by her side. He wasn’t going to be another guy who let her down.
“Hell yeah, I’m coming. And I’ll wear the damn tux, too.”
He got up and held his hand out for her.
She grinned and slipped her hand in his. “Good, because you and I, Jason? We are going to dance Saturday night.”
He was counting on it. Owen may have screwed her over, but Jason was going to make sure that Erin had the best night possible.
CHAPTER
two
WEARING HER WEDDING dress to the party was definitely out, for obvious reasons. Erin would donate it because though she would get married someday, she’d never wear that dress.
It was a stellar dress, too. It would make some bride very happy.
But it was dead to her now. So was her reception dress. Too bad, because it was a knockout, too. A pale blush-pink, chiffon, knee-length beauty with spaghetti straps, it was tight at the top and flared out at the knee. Perfect for dancing, showed off a little skin, but still—sexy as hell.
She’d bought it to romance her new husband.
Dammit.
She stared into her closet and tapped her foot. Then the sparkle of silver caught her eye and her lips lifted.
She pulled a silver metallic dress out of her closet. The dress was skimpy and short and scandalous and would show off a ton of skin.
Totally inappropriate for a wedding. Then again, this wasn’t a wedding, was it?
She’d feel decadent in it, just the kind of dress she needed tonight. She had a pair of spiky silver heels that would show off her legs. She’d wear it to drink and dance and eat and forget all about Owen.
She stared at the wedding dress hanging over the back of her closet door. For the past two days she hadn’t allowed herself any emotion, any upset over Owen’s sudden change of heart.
But now, she was preparing herself for her non-wedding reception—no, she refused to use the word “wedding” in this event any longer. This was officially called the Bellini Party now.
She sighed and thought of all the sympathetic looks she was going to get tonight, and how now she’d forever be known as “the bride who basically got left at the altar.”
Ugh.
Not that she was concerned too much about that of course. She was a Bellini, and Bellinis were made of strong stock. Her parents had always taught her to be resilient and courageous and never hide from anything.
Tonight she would embrace that wholeheartedly.
She was a fierce, capable woman. She would weather this and come out stronger on the other side.
Her gaze caught the wedding dress again. Without thought, she pulled off her robe and grabbed the dress off the hanger, knowing she shouldn’t, but unable to stop herself. She slipped into the dress, zipped it up as far as