Page 5

Roman

I quietly shut the door behind me and exhale, trying to shake off some of the tension pressing down on my chest. Outwardly, I’ve been dancing, smiling—playing the role I usually enjoy—but inside, my heart fucking aches for my friend.

Gabby’s been through hell tonight, and if there’s anything I can do to make this even a fraction easier for her, I damn well will.

I head to the living area and crack open the big bottle of Jack I’d picked up in the gift shop while I grabbed her wine. Yep, getting Gabby at least tipsy tonight is the plan. Tomorrow is a problem for the future, her future, a future I will no longer be a part of.

I pour a generous amount of the dark liquid into a glass and add a splash of soda. After a much needed mouthful, I flick on the TV, scrolling for something that might distract her from the train wreck of a night she’s had.

Muffled voices filter in from the hallway, people heading off to party, gamble, or lose themselves in one of Vegas’ neon-drenched spectacles. Normally, I’d be right there with them, but not tonight. Tonight, I’d rather be here.

I finally land on a cheesy chick flick, something mindless and feel-good, and crank up the volume to drown out the world outside.

As I sink into one of the plush chairs, my gaze drifts across the room, straight to her wedding dress, the lamplight shining on the jewels.

It sits draped over the other chair, a ghost of what was supposed to be tomorrow.

Should I shove it in the closet? Out of sight, out of mind for the night. Maybe that’s a good idea.

I push up from my seat, about to grab it, when the bathroom door creaks open.

And then, everything stops.

Gabby steps into the room, wrapped in nothing but a towel.

My brain short-circuits.

The first thing I do—because I’m a gentleman (debatable, but let’s pretend)—is quickly shut my eyes and spin around.

Okay, maybe that’s not entirely true. First, I get an eyeful of the damp tendrils of her hair clinging to her collarbone, the soft rise and fall of her chest beneath the fluffy white towel, her long silky legs that the towel does little to hide.

Shit.

“Sorry,” I manage, forcing my voice to stay level. Dude, what the hell are you doing? You don’t ogle your friend when she’s just been jilted. I scrub a hand over my face, willing myself to get it together. “I didn’t realize you’d, uh… just be in a towel.”

She hesitates. “I just need my pajamas.”

“Right. I put your bag on the coffee table,” I quickly instruct, forcing my gaze toward the window before I do something incredibly stupid, like steal another glance. “I should’ve thought to grab them for you.” I huff out a dry laugh. “Then again, I doubt you’d want me digging through your stuff.”

“It’s fine,” she says, voice soft.

I stare out at the strip below, watching the neon lights reflect off the fountain, pretending the sound of her dropping her towel doesn’t send a ripple of heat straight through me. I should have put her bag in the adjoining bedroom. But still, just knowing what she’d be doing in there…

And that’s when it hits me. Tonight is going to be hard.

Dude, really…

“Any trouble getting these?” Gabby asks, and I catch the worry threading through her voice.

I glance back at her. “Rip said…uh, he…” We are not using his name. “…wasn’t in the room when the concierge entered. But when he got back, he called the front desk to see if you checked out.” I hesitate, watching her reaction. “He knows you’re still in the resort.”

There’s worry in her voice when she says, “He’s been blowing up my phone. But I’m not ready to talk to him. I really hope he doesn’t bother my parents anymore tonight.”

I want to askwhat he said to them, what he thinks he could do to fix this, but no questions. That’s the rule tonight.

She exhales, her voice smaller now. “I’m sorry for putting you and Rip through so much.”

“It’s okay, Gabs. No trouble at all.”

The silence that follows is thick—too thick. Then, she sniffs, and my chest tightens. Unable to help myself, I turn, finding her standing there, tightly gripping the silky piece of lingerie against her naked body.

She seems lost in thought as I take a step forward. “Gabby.”

Her head lifts, and when our eyes meet, it guts me. She looks lost. “I…can’t,” she whispers, staring at the delicate fabric. “I bought this for?—”

“Say no more.” I hold up a hand. “I’ll go back to the gift shop and get you something else.”

But before I even finish the sentence, a stricken look crosses her face, like the thought of me leaving, even for a moment, is unbearable.

I hesitate. Then, instead, I walk over to the dresser, pull open a drawer, and grab a T-shirt.

“Or, you could wear this. It’s clean.” I grin.

“I even use that fabric stuff that makes it smell good.” I pull it to my mouth and moan in delight as I sniff it.

“Lavender and vanilla. Josie put me on to it.” Then I quickly explain.

“Josie is Jesse’s wife. Jessie Campbell, from the team.

He always smells so good, so I had to ask. ” Jesus, why am I rambling?

Her lips twitch like the idea of a hockey player adding scented fabric softener to his wash is crazy. Her fingers brush mine as I pass it to her. It’s soft, well-worn, and at least two sizes too big. She brings it to her nose.

“You’re right. This does smell good. I actually use orange blossom. Maybe I’ll switch.”

Yeah, okay. I agree discussing laundry with a half-naked woman in my hotel suite, one who was just jilted, is kind of strange. But…I like it.

“I don’t have any sweatpants,” I admit. “Only jeans, dress pants, and a bathing suit.” I tug at the waistband of my suit. “I mean, I could offer you these, but—” I wink. “They’ve been kind of touching…my farm parts.”

“Farm parts,” she bursts out.

“Did you ever meet my uncle Stan?” Why on earth would she have ever met my uncle Stan, and maybe I should have kept the conversation about laundry, but I started down this road, so here I go.

“He has the dairy farm back home. Lots of cows, goats, sheep…” I wait for her to answer, and when she just crinkles up her nose, I continue.

“That’s what he used to call.” I point downward. “Well, you know.”

“Oh yeah, I know.” Chuckling quietly, she bites her bottom lip, and sniffs the T-shirt again. “This is perfect, Roman.” Keeping the lingerie pressed against her torso to cover—things I’d never call farm parts—she pulls the T-shirt close. “I have nightgowns that are shorter. I’ll be right back.”

I turn away as she darts into the bathroom and roll my eyes at myself. Farm parts? Dude, get it together . I turn to the TV and pretend I’m invested in the movie playing out. But when she steps back into the room, and my head swivels to find her in my shirt, my brain short-circuits again.

Fuck you, brain.

Is she wearing panties?

I drag a hand down my face and shift my focus, locking my gaze on the TV. Anywhere but her legs.

“I found this in the bathroom,” she announces, and I’m forced to turn back—poor me—to see her holding up a tiny sewing kit.

I cock my head. “You planning on sewing something tonight?”

“Nope.” A mischievous glint flashes in her eyes as she pops open the kit and pulls out the world’s smallest pair of scissors. “I thought I’d destroy something.”

Her gaze flicks toward the wedding dress, and my stomach tightens. As much as I like seeing the spark back in her, I can’t let that happen.

“Gabs… I don’t know.”

Determination etched all over her face, she zeroes in on the dress. “Yeah, well, I do.”

“What if…” I trail off.

No questions.

She raises a brow. “What if tomorrow I wake up, change my mind, and go back to the cheating asshole?”

I shrug. Honestly, I don’t know what the light of day will bring and while I’d like to have five minutes in the alley with the douche bag, I’m not about to judge her if she runs back to him.

Funny, come the light of day, I usually run…the other way…but a girl knows what she’s getting into with me.

What was the cryptic message the fortune teller at the Halloween party said to you, dude?

That I wouldn’t be the one to run, she would.

Not that I believe in fortune tellers, and I have no idea why I’m thinking about that now, other than the fact that Gabby is the one on the run. But not from me. This has nothing to do with the weird prediction that I don’t believe.

Yet here you are thinking about it.

“Gabs?”

She just shakes her head. “He hurt me, Roman. I’m not ever going back.”

“Okay.” I exhale. “It’s just that dress looks pretty expensive.”

“Oh, it is,” she snaps, with a resentful huff.

“ His famousfather designed it last year.” A bitter laugh escapes her, hollow and cutting.

“I wasn’t even allowed to design my own one-of-a-kind wedding dress.

My own damn dress.” I voiced it, quietly, but…

I was expected to be ever so grateful to wear that.

” She swallows hard, her emotions moving over her face like a volatile storm.

Then, with a hint of something darker in her tone, she adds, “Maybe Luc thought my design would pale in comparison to his last year’s off the rack, or wouldn’t be fitting to wear next to his perfectly handsome, runway model son donning a Luc St. Pierre original. ”

I make a mental note of everything she just blurted out, each piece of the puzzle falling into place.

She can design wedding dresses.

Her almost-father-in-law Luc is a famous designer.

Her ex is a model in the business.

She protested, but only meekly.

That’s when I realize…a lot.

Shit…

“Maybe he didn’t want your dress to outshine any of his,” I murmur, running my fingers over the intricate fabric, tracing the embedded jewels. “While this is stunning, Gabby, I’m sure whatever you designed would’ve suited you better, and captured the eye of every designer in attendance.”

Gabby arches a brow, watching me.

I tilt my head. “I mean, it’s beautiful, but… is it really you?”

She exhales slowly, shaking her head. “You noticed that, huh?” A humorless laugh escapes her. “Yeah… Luc’s son is the apple of his eye. Poised to take over the empire someday. And Luc has expectations. Family is everything in his world. So is succession.”

As those words ping around inside my brain, I take a slow sip of my drink and decide to redirect. “I’m happy to hear you followed your dream and went to design school.”

Her head snaps up, her gaze locking onto mine. “You knew I wanted to go to design school?”

I grab a fresh wine glass, fill it, and hand it to her. “Yeah, of course.”

The way she looks at me, like I somehow shouldn’thave remembered, makes something in my chest tighten. Did she feel overlooked back in the day? If so, I’m damn sorry about that. I was busy with school and hockey, but tonight, it’s just the two of us, and I’m not overlooking anything.

Except her legs.

I need to overlook her legs.

She takes a sip, eyes flickering with a hint of happiness. “I went to the School of Fashion in San Francisco.” A small smile tugs at her lips, and it’s deep and real, helping me keep my focus off her legs and the damn way she’s stretching them out.

“Nice.”

But then, just as fast as it appeared, her smile fades. “That’s where I met Todd.” Her fingers tighten around the glass as she briefly closes her eyes. With a sharp breath, she shakes her head. “Nope. Not doing that. Not going there. Not tonight.”

She turns, swiftly closing her suitcase like she’s shoving the memories of tonight inside along with it.

“I’m happy you followed your dream too, Roman. Dad is still your number one fan.”

“And you…” I wink. “Right, not a fan.”

“I mean…”

I gesture toward the chair across from me. “Come sit.” I move the dress out of the way, take the tiny scissors from her, and she grins, shaking her head. “I’m well aware of the way you distracted me, Romeo .”

I laugh. “I know it’s over, but I just don’t want you doing anything you’re going to regret in the morning.”

“I’m not ruling it out. Cutting up that dress, I mean. I’m definitely not walking down any aisle.” She slides my drink toward me, mischief flickering behind her tired eyes. “Maybe I can convince you to put on the dress while I re-envision the design.”

Jokingly, I lift my arm and flex my bicep. “Too big, remember?”

Her gaze slides to my arm, but then it moves to my shoulders…chest. I know that look. I wasn’t wrong when I said this night might get…hard, and no, I can’t be her revenge fuck.

Right?

Fuck.

I shift, and suggest, “I could always go get a pinata. Fill it with candy. That way, you get to destroy something and get a sugar rush. It’s a win-win.

” She taps her chin in thought. “How about this? Sleep on it, and come morning if you still want to do it, I’m in.

I just think decisions like this should be made in the light of day, when things aren’t so emotional. ”

“Yeah, okay.” She gives a light, humorless chuckle, the sound warm despite the lingering sadness in the room, then she flops into the chair across from me.

And damn. The way my oversized shirt brushes against her bare thighs nearly wrecks my focus.

Think of something else, dude. Anything else.

“So your parents…how did that call go?” I ask, shifting gears fast.

Her expression falls. “Ugh.” She rests her elbow on the small table, fist against her chin, half-covering her mouth as she turns toward the window. I don’t rush her. I give her the space to sit with her thoughts, even as fresh tears prick the corners of her eyes.

“They… they wanted me to come to their room,” she says finally, voice barely above a whisper. Then, turning toward me, she adds, “I told them I was with you.” She swallows and her words settle deep in my chest.”

“You don’t have to go anywhere,” I murmur.

She sighs. “I do tomorrow. They want me to go back to California with them.”

Clearly she doesn’t want that, and while I don’t know her full situation, don’t know where she’s been living, I have a pretty solid guess.

I lift my glass. “What do you want, Gabby?”

For a moment, something inside her ignites.

Her eyes lock with mine, burning with a new kind of resolve.

Her mouth opens and for a brief second, something arcs between us.

Something volatile and electric, something that stirs a need inside of me.

But then her shoulders sag, that resolve deflating as quickly as it had appeared. Her gaze falters and she goes silent.

“Sorry, no questions.”

She lifts her glass slightly, her fingers curling around the stem. “I… I just want to drink this, watch a movie, and forget everything…just for tonight.”

I nod. “Yeah. Okay.”

Jesus Christ, what the hell just happened?

Oh, you know, dude, you know.