I sag in disappointment, but I’m not going to push her any further. She’s given me an answer, a firm no. All I can do now is respect it.
“Okay,” I say, putting my hands up to show I’m done. “Itdoesn’t look like anything about the wedding has hit the media, so that’s good. We can get our publicists and PR teams in touch, and they can handle everything from here on out. Let’s get through today and then reassess tomorrow, all right?”
Some of Stella’s defensiveness slips away as she drops her arms back to her sides. “I can do that. Today’s about Janelle and Ron, not us.”
Right. The wedding we’reactuallyhere for.
I point toward the console across the room that has the TV atop it. “Your bag is behind the television, by the way. And your shoes are under the chair.”
I get a quick nod in thanks before she’s off to collect her things. With her heels on, we’re back to being nearly eye to eye when she approaches again, clearly ready to get out of here without too much more chatter.
“We’ll figure this out,” I reassure, holding her gaze. “I promise.”
She sighs, resigned to our fate. “This was supposed to be easy. Just one night.”
“And now you’re stuck with me.” When I find myself on the receiving end of her glare, I tack on, “Legally. And temporarily.”
There’s an awkward beat, neither of us sure what to do next. Is she just supposed to…go? Feels kind of wrong considering our circumstances and conversations, but I guess that’s the next course of action after what was supposed to be a one-night stand.
“I’d kiss you goodbye if it didn’t taste like a small animal died in my mouth,” I tell her.
I wish I could take back the words as soon as I say them. Could Ibeany more embarrassing? Yet, somehow, Stella looksbriefly amused by the comment before she forces it away with a frown.
“Disgusting,” she admonishes. “But…same.”
It drags a laugh out of me as I walk her to the door of the suite. She pauses and turns back to me when we’re standing on separate sides of the threshold.
“I’ll go call my people.” She glances at her phone, which she slipped out of her bag, grimacing when she sees whatever’s on the screen. When she looks back at me, I don’t miss the determination in her gaze. She wants this handled, and fast. “See you at the wedding?”
“See you there.”
I wait in the doorway until she disappears down the hall, then slump back inside as I unlock my phone, tapping on my manager’s name before Figgy can call me again.
“I know you’re not going to want to hear this,” I tell him on a sigh when he answers. “But I seem to have found myself with another PR problem…”
Chapter 9
Stella
There’s an old saying that goesMan plans, and God laughs. For example, it was always in my plans to show up to Janelle’s wedding as a married woman. And what do you know? That’s exactly what’s happening.
Except I’m not married to the man I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with. No, I’m married to a complete fucking stranger. But hey, I’m married! And the cackling I keep hearing must be God.
At this point, I’ve done all I can to get a handle on everything. I’ve called my lawyers, set my PR team on high alert, and frantically googledquickest way to get an annulment in Nevada. None of it has made me feel better about my less-than-stellar life choices, but it’s time to compartmentalize and be there for Janelle on her big day.
The bridal suite is awash with excitement when I step inside. Aunt Caroline, Janelle’s mother, hugs me tight and gushes over how beautiful I look. I’m still sweating out whiskey, but I’ve managed to clean up well, and I accept her compliment with a smile.
“Where’s our bride?” I ask.
Aunt Caroline nods to the balcony with a wry smile. “Said she needed a minute to catch her breath, but to send you out the second you got here.”
I skirt my way around the room to get to the balcony door, nodding and waving to bridesmaids with a brightness I don’t feel. The fakeness falls away when I slide the door shut behind me and draw in a breath of the crisp air outside.
“About time you got here,” Janelle comments from where she’s sitting in lotus pose on a yoga mat. She squints, taking me in as I lower myself down next to her. “What’s wrong?”
Well, that didn’t take her long to spot. “Nothing’s wrong,” I say, forcing a lightness into my voice. “Just a little hungover, that’s all.”
“You’rea lothungover,” she counters. “But that’s not the problem.”
