Page 6 of Marrying Mr. Wentworth (Austen Hunks #3)

Thursday evening — Ariana

M eg’s suite was straight-up ridiculous.

I’m talking gold fixtures, plush rugs, and a view of the Vegas Strip that could make a grown woman cry.

Two bedrooms. Four bathrooms. A soaking tub that looked like it required a user manual.

There was even a minibar stocked with tiny champagne bottles. Because of course there was.

Meg had insisted on booking a suite with private rooms on the same floor for all the bridesmaids. “We’re adults, not camp counselors,” she’d said, as if that explained the Egyptian cotton sheets and bottle service.

Now, her room looked like a high-end bridal boutique had exploded all over it. Makeup bags littered every flat surface. Curling irons, straighteners, brushes, and a battalion of hair products were scattered around like we were prepping for battle.

And in a way, we were.

“Are you doing okay?” Ellie asked softly, meeting my eyes in the mirror. She was adjusting her lashes, but she wasn’t fooled. Not by me.

After years of avoiding this conversation, I could tell she wasn’t letting me dodge it anymore.

I shrugged, reaching for my lipstick. “He’s still maddeningly hot. Unfortunately.”

Courtney, one of Meg’s bridesmaids, let out a delighted snort. “Who? Christopher Wentworth? Girl. That man’s a walking billboard for Bad Decisions You’ll Never Regret.”

I turned and gave her a look. A slow, unimpressed sweep from head to toe. She didn’t even flinch.

Bold of her.

Ellie, bless her, stepped in with diplomatic grace. “Christopher and Ariana have…history.”

“History?” Haley perked up. “With a face like that, he could break my heart after a one-night stand and I’d still bake him muffins.”

I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I might’ve drawn blood.

Meg’s head snapped up. “Courtney, Haley, could you do me a huge favor and grab some ice for the champagne?”

Courtney opened her mouth like she was going to argue, but Haley nudged her. “C’mon, Court. You don’t want Meg going full Professor Knightley on us.”

Once the door clicked shut behind them, the air shifted. Less suffocating. More…familiar.

Meg turned to me with a wince. “Sorry. They don’t know how serious you and Christopher were.”

Ellie perched beside me on the bed. “You never really told me what happened, Ari. I mean, I know he broke your heart…but how?”

I should’ve deflected. Said something breezy and vague. But the truth was sitting there, just beneath my skin. Waiting.

“I’d just finished my last exam. Junior year,” I said, voice flat. “He was supposed to pick me up. We were going to drive home for the summer together.”

Meg stilled with her brush in midair.

“He showed up with Jeremy. And two guys I didn’t know. Movers.”

Ellie’s eyes widened.

“He broke up with me right there. Outside my dorm room. Said someday I’d see it was for the best.”

I could still see the beige cinderblock walls. Still hear the echo in the hallway. I’d stood frozen as they carried out my things—box by box. Not our things. Just mine. But it didn’t matter.

Because everything inside me had changed.

“I haven’t let anyone in since,” I admitted, so quietly I wasn’t sure they’d heard. “That was the last time I trusted someone that much.”

The room went silent. Just the sound of Vegas humming beyond the windows.

Meg reached for my hand. Ellie squeezed my arm.

No pity. No platitudes.

Just understanding.

Because sometimes heartbreak doesn’t show up in fireworks and grand betrayals.

Sometimes it’s a quiet goodbye in a beige hallway.

And the kind of scar you learn to live around.

Until Vegas comes calling again.