Grace holds onto me. “We’re with you, Mol,” she whispers.
“I need to get out of here.”
“Of course.”
We bolt down the aisle, threading our way through people. I vaguely register shocked, concerned faces but I try not to look at anyone, my humiliation complete. We make our way to the dressing room where we prepared for the ceremony not long ago.
My other two bridesmaids, Allison and Brielle, follow us, locking the door behind us.
I head straight for the champagne bottles on the counter, picking up one we were drinking earlier that’s still half full. I lift it to my lips and drink straight from the bottle.
Grace is beside me, rubbing my shoulder. “Attagirl,” she murmurs. “You did it.”
“I did.” I swipe my fingers beneath my nose. “Why do I want to cry?”
“Because your heart is broken.” She leans her head against mine. “I’m so sorry. That ratfucking bastard.”
“I want to throat-punch him,” Brielle says fiercely. “In fact, I think I might go do that.”
“I’m coming with you.” Allison scowls. “Motherfucker.”
Before I can tell them not to bother, they’ve disappeared. I grimace at Grace and sink into an armchair, clutching my bottle of bubbly.
“I’d like to castrate him,” she says, grabbing another bottle and a flute. “But I don’t want to do jail time.”
I guzzle more champagne, the bubbles pleasantly stinging my nose and throat. “He’s not worth it.”
I lean my head back and close my eyes. Only twenty-four hours ago, I totally thought Steve was worth it. Worth marrying. Worth loving.
What a fool I was.
And what a fool I’ve been, not to know what was going on behind my back.
“How could he?” I whisper, my throat squeezing up.
“I don’t know. I’d really like to hear his explanation. Because there is no explanation that’s good enough for cheating. For fuck’s sake.” Grace shakes her head and sips her champagne, more ladylike than I am right now despite her language. “That’s just bullshit. And who the fuck is Claire?”
“I don’t know.” My bottom lip quivers. “She’s pretty and she has great boobs.” I look down at my modest chest.
“If that’s all he cares about, then he really is a dickhead.”
Someone knocks on the door.
We look at each other.
“Molly? Are you in there? Open this door!”
Steve.
I frown. “I thought Allison and Brielle were dealing with him.”
“I’ll fucking deal with him.” Grace jumps up and stalks over to the door in her spiky heels. “Get fucked, Steve!” she shouts through the door.
I actually snort out a laugh.
“I love you,” I whisper to her.
We hear more voices—female voices. Another male voice. My parents. There’s a lot of yelling and I catch a few swear words.
Grace rolls her eyes and sets down her glass. “I’ll be back.”
She disappears out the door, and I leap up to lock it again.
I’m alone.
I hear Grace telling everyone to go away and give me my space. “Especially you, asshole,” comes quite clearly through the door. I hear more male voices. Maybe Steve’s friends. They won’t break the door down, will they? They’re all hockey players, big and strong, and have been known to get into the odd fisticuffs.
The voices fade away as my girls take care of things. I feel bad about Mom and Dad. Luckily, they didn’t pay for much of the wedding; Steve did, since he’s loaded. That’s not why I was marrying him, just to be clear. I don’t care about money. I thought I was marrying for love.
My heart contracts sharply, the pain stealing my breath.
Love.
What. The. Fuck.
I lift the champagne bottle and finish it off.
Standing in the middle of the room, I can see my reflection in the full-length mirror on the wall. I love this dress. It’s a princess dress, with a full skirt and beaded bodice. I felt like a princess when I tried it on, and I couldn’t wait to feel like a princess wearing it in front of Steve.
I look down at the ring on my hand. I love my ring, too. I slip it off my finger and tuck it into my little beaded purse. I’ll give it back to Steve. Maybe he can give it to fucking Claire.
I’d like to give it to Claire. Right between the eyes.
Another knock on the door startles me. I turn and regard it suspiciously. It better not be Steve again.
“Who is it?” I ask.
“Jax.”
I blink.
Jax Wynn is one of Steve’s friends and teammates. But he’s also my friend. My tequila-drinking, trivia-playing buddy. Biting my lip, I cross the room and unlock the door. I crack it open and peer out. “State your business.”
His lips quirk. “Are you okay?”
“Are you kidding me? Of course I’m not okay!”
He winces. “I know. I’m sorry. Can I come in?”
“Did Steve send you?”
He frowns. “No.”
“Okay.” I open the door wider to let him in, then lock it again.
“I saw your bridesmaids ripping into Steve,” Jax says. “I can’t believe what just happened.”
I sigh and move to the counter where the champagne bottles are. The open ones are all empty. I pick up a full one and peel off the foil. Then I turn to Jax. “Can you open this?”
He takes the bottle, grabs a small towel and easily removes the cork with a pop. He looks for a glass, but I seize the bottle and take a swig.
He scratches the back of his neck. “You look beautiful. If that helps at all.”
“It doesn’t really, but thanks.”
“Yeah.” He sits in one of the chairs, resting his elbows on his knees. “How did you find out?”
“Someone sent me screen shots of the texts last night.”
“This Claire girl?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know who else would know or be able to do that. Unless someone got Steve’s phone. It doesn’t matter.”
“That was…gutsy.”
I nod slowly. “Probably stupid. I wanted everyone to know what an asswipe he is, but now everyone knows what a loser I am.” One corner of my mouth dips.
“What? Loser? You’re not a loser. He cheated on you.”
“Because I don’t give blow jobs as good as Claire.”
“Christ.” He rubs his face.
“Also, my boobs aren’t as big. In fairness, though, he may love making her come, but he wasn’t that good at it with me.”
Jax chokes.
I drink more champagne. Feeling a little woozy. That’s good though.
I sit again, my skirt spread all around me. “Did you know?” I ask quietly.
Jax’s mouth pinches up. “No,” he says shortly.
“I just don’t understand.”
“Me either. Hand over that bottle.”
I comply with a wry smile, watching as he lifts the bottle to his lips. His throat works as he takes several swallows.
“I need to get out of here.” I stand and look around the elegantly appointed dressing room.
Jax stands too, looking faintly alarmed. “Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. I can’t go home. My apartment’s empty.” My lip wobbles again. “I just moved in with Steve last weekend. And I can’t go there. I don’t want to see him again.”
“I think you’re going to have to see him at some point.”
“No.” I firm my lips and cross my arms. “Well, maybe. But not now.”
“Want me to go find your bridesmaids?”
“No. I just want to disappear.” Then I sigh. “I don’t even have a car here.”
“Uh…”
“Can you give me a ride?” I meet his eyes pleadingly.
“I don’t have a car either.”
“Shit.”
“We can get a taxi.”
“I guess.�
�
“But where? Your parents’ place?”
“I don’t want to face them either. Oh God.” I close my eyes briefly. “Can we go to your place?”
His eyes bug out. “What?”
“That’s perfect. Nobody will find me there.” I grab onto his arm, distantly noting the size and firmness of his biceps. “Please, Jax.”
3
Molly
Jax’s eyes shift around, but then he nods. “Okay. Sure. Let’s go.”
I want to escape so badly I don’t even take the time to change back into the clothes I arrived in. All my other things are already at the hotel where we were supposed to spend our wedding night. Shit.
Oh well.
Jax opens the door and peers out. We can hear faint voices but nobody’s in the corridor. He leads me out toward the elevators. I don’t know what’s going on, if guests have left, or stayed, and I don’t care, but I just don’t want to run into anyone.
But Jax takes me on a convoluted tour that ends up in the kitchen where my wedding dinner is being prepared. We meet stunned faces. “Is there a freight elevator?” he asks.
A woman points.
“Thanks.” Jax smiles and nods, takes my hand and rushes me through the kitchen.
In the empty elevator, I lean against the wall. “Wow. Great idea. Thanks.”
The elevator makes a rapid descent to the main floor.
“Hopefully we can find our way out from wherever we end up,” Jax says.
We emerge into a deserted loading area. We both scan the space and spot an exit door. We find ourselves in the loading dock area on Lower Wacker Drive.
It’s dark and desolate down here. “Great.” I look around at all the concrete. “Lovely.”
“We need to get a taxi,” Jax says. He leads the way to a narrow sidewalk.
Cars roar past us, the sound echoing in the enclosed space as we walk a dark incline leading up to street level.
Near the top of the incline, a man sits against the wall with a big bag beside him, no doubt containing all his worldly possessions. He eyes us as we approach.
I’m glad Jax is with me.
“Beautiful bride,” he says.
“Thanks.”
“I was married once.” He chokes on a sob.
Oh my God.
“That cheating whore…I got six kids with her.” He wipes his face. “She was fucking everyone in town behind my back.”
“Wow.” I drop down into a crouch next to him, my skirt spread all around me. Vaguely I realize this sidewalk isn’t exactly clean, but whatever. “Same. My fiancée was cheating on me.”
“Him?” The man eyes Jax suspiciously.
“No. He’s rescuing me. I didn’t go through with the wedding.”
“Good for you.” He pats my hand, tears still in his eyes.
“I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“Yeah. My life went into the shitter after that.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” I have no cash whatsoever, or I’d give him some.
Jax digs into his pocket and pulls out a bill that he hands to the man. “Here you go, man.”
“Thanks. Good luck, pretty lady.”
We emerge onto South Wacker. City lights glitter around us. Jax spots a yellow cab and raises his hand to hail it.
I see the driver do a double take at my wedding dress, then jerk the wheel and screech to a halt at the curb.
“This doesn’t look weird or anything,” I mutter, hoisting my skirts and clipping after Jax in my high heels as he jogs over to the taxi.
“You wanted to leave,” he reminds me over his shoulder.
We jump in, me wrestling with the multiple layers of my dress. Jax helps me deal with it, tucking fabric under my thighs, then I pull the door closed.
“Newlyweds!” the driver says. “Congratulations!”
Jax and I exchange glances. I widen my eyes at him, and the corners of his mouth lift.
“Uh, thanks,” Jax says.
“Where to, lovebirds?” the cabbie asks.
Jax gives his address.
The driver chats all the way to Jax’s place, although I don’t say anything, lost in my misery until we pull up in the driveway of Jax’s building. I’ve been to his place once before when he had a party; he lives in a new, super modern high-rise on North Lake Shore.
Jax pays the driver and then leads me through the elegant lobby to the elevators where we take a ride up to the fifty-fourth floor. I’m hanging on by a hair at this point. Also, my feet hurt.
Inside Jax’s condo, I kick off my pointy-toed shoes and wiggle my toes on the hardwood floor. As I was the first time I came here, I’m mind-boggled by the incredible views out his floor-to-ceiling windows. I drop my tote bag and toss my purse onto a couch as I pad on bare feet over to the windows, mesmerized. Far below us, streaks of light curve along Lake Shore, with other skyscrapers twinkling around us. For a moment, I stare out at the city, feeling lost and despondent.
“Here.” Jax speaks behind my in a low voice.
I turn and he hands me a glass of clear liquid.
“Gran Patrón,” he says.
“Perfect.” I take the glass and sip the tequila, savoring the smooth feel and the hint of citrus. Jax taught me to like tequila, which we often drink while we’re kicking ass at trivia contests.
With a glass in his own hand, he moves over to sit on one of a pair of long couches. “The beaver is the national emblem of what country?”
I tilt my head, a smile tugging at my reluctant lips. “Come on. That’s way too easy, my Canadian friend.”
He grins.
I wander over and sit on the couch opposite him, a big cocktail table between us. I take another sip of tequila. “What is the name of Batman’s butler?”
He shakes his head. “Alfred.”
“I guess if we’re going to practice, we need more challenging questions.”
“Yeah.” He drinks. “What are you going to do?”
I know exactly what he means. “I don’t know.”
I become aware that my purse is buzzing. “Shit. My phone.”
I lean and stretch out my arm to grab the purse. With my nose wrinkled up, I pull out my phone. It’s blowing up with about a thousand text messages and missed calls. I sigh. “I guess I should let some people know I’m okay.”
“Some people, meaning not Steve.”
“Yeah, I don’t give a shit if he’s worried. He probably doesn’t care anyway.”
“I’m sure he does.”
I shoot Jax a dark look. “Why?”
“He loves you, Molly.”
“Apparently not.”
He winces.
I ignore the messages from Steve. I don’t want to read his lies. Fucker. I send a message to our wedding planner, Katelyn Bennet, apologizing for what happened. I tell her to call me if she needs me. Then I tap in a few quick messages to my bridesmaids and to my mom and dad, not telling them where I am, just that I left and I’m fine.
I’m not really fine, but I have to say that.
“This is nuts.” I lay my head back. “I’m supposed to be celebrating right now.”
“Yeah.” We fall silent for a moment, then Jax says, “You should have seen the look on the officiant’s face when you read those messages.”
“ ‘I can’t stop thinking about fucking you?’ ”
“Yep.” He chuckles. “Holy shit, I thought his eyes were going to burst out of his head.”
I grin. “Well, I’m glad I provided some entertainment.”
“You had to know that was going to be crazy.”
“Oh yeah. I nearly changed my mind about doing it, but I was just so pissed.”
“I get it.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell him you bailed me out tonight.”
Jax lifts a shoulder. “Whatever.”
“I know he’s your teammate and your friend. I’m sorry I involved you in this.”
“It’s okay.” He meets my eyes. “I’m
your friend, too.”
“Thanks.” My throat constricts.
“Uh…you want to stay here tonight?”
“Could I?” I bite my lip.
“Sure.” His voice sounds like he swallowed sand.
“I might need to borrow a few things.”
“Yeah. We’ll figure it out.” He pauses. “You hungry?”
“Not really. But I am kind of drunk, so I should probably eat something.”
“I don’t have much here. I’m leaving for California tomorrow.”
“Right.” I remember him mentioning something about traveling.
“I can order something in, though. Any preference?”
“It doesn’t matter to me.”
“I’ll get a pizza.” He pulls out his phone.
“Sounds good.”
He orders the pizza, then disappears into his bedroom. When he returns, he’s dressed in pair of well-worn jeans and a gray Chicago Aces T-shirt. He’s carrying some clothing. “Here.” He sets them on the couch next to me. “I know they’re not going to fit, but at least you can get out of that dress and be more comfortable.”
“Thanks.” I scoop up the clothes. “Is your fireplace gas or woodburning?”
“What?” He glances over at the wall. “It’s gas.”
“Damn. I was thinking we could have a dress burning.”
He laughs. “Guess not.”
I trudge to the bathroom where I study my reflection. My mascara is a bit smudged, but otherwise my subtle smoky eyes and blushed cheeks are still perfect. My hair is in an elaborate updo of loose loops and twists, with small white flowers and pearls woven through it. Gripping the marble vanity, I close my eyes as a wave of pain washes over me.
Since I got those texts last night, I’ve been a wreck. A nervous, heart-broken, nauseous mess. But I was also determined not to be a victim. I wanted to make a big, bold statement, and I did it. I hadn’t thought through the aftermath, though, and what would happen next.
Jax has given me a pair of plaid pajama bottoms with a drawstring waist I should be able to tighten, and a huge, soft T-shirt. He’s such a sweetheart.
Big problem though—I can’t get the little buttons on the back of my dress undone. I peer over one shoulder, then the other, nearly breaking my arms trying to do it.
I really don’t want to ask Jax for help. I mean, we’re friends, but he’s a guy, and this is…awkward.
Game Changer Page 2