Confessions of a Bad Bridesmaid

by Jennifer Rae

  ‘But there’s someone missing tonight.’

  His mother looked up and he saw the tears well in her big sad eyes. He almost stopped, but he didn’t. Olivia wanted the truth and he was going to give it to her.

  ‘James. My little brother. He should have been here tonight. He always loved a party. And even though we fought sometimes the four of us did everything together. And I miss him. I miss his laugh and I miss the way he thought he was invincible. And on the day James died something broke. This family. James would never have wanted that. He would have wanted us to remember him at times like this. Not be sniping and swiping and acting like a bunch of caged tigers in a circus.’

  There were no sounds of cutlery this time. Just complete and utter silence.

  Edward reached for his glass and lifted it high. ‘These are the times we remember the people who can’t be with us. To James.’

  A long silence followed his speech, until Will cleared his throat.

  ‘To James.’

  ‘To James,’ said Fiona.

  Then Olivia spoke up. ‘To James.’

  Then Bunny. ‘To James,’ she said quietly.

  He looked at his father, who lifted his glass and said gruffly, ‘To my boy James.’

  Then Edward looked at his mother. Her hand didn’t move. She stared straight ahead, a strange, strangled smile on her face. Then she put her head in her hands and let out an ear-piercing wail.

  Olivia jumped up and Bunny rushed to her mother’s side. Then Fiona joined them and together the women lifted her from the table and took her out. Will stood up too. Edward met his brother’s stare, then turned from them all and fled.

  * * *

  Honest? What the hell had he been thinking? No one ever wanted to hear the truth. He knew that. But Olivia... She’d insisted. Olivia, who knew nothing about honesty. Who had to get drunk to be honest. Yet she’d forced him to be honest and he’d sent his mother into hysterics.

  ‘Ed. Mate...’

  ‘Go away, Will.’

  ‘You did the right thing...’

  He wanted to throw something, or hit someone, but Will was too far away and the only thing on his father’s desk worth throwing was the inkwell. James had brought it home from a naff market stall a month before he died. He glowered at it. Then turned his hard look onto Will.

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

  Will ignored him and sat in the leather armchair in front of the desk. He stretched his long legs out and put one foot on his knee. But that was Will. All ease and comfort. No worries, no responsibility. Like when he’d pushed Olivia aside for Fiona. Will felt no guilt about anything.

  ‘I appreciated your words out there, mate...’

  ‘I didn’t do it for you.’

  Will raised an eyebrow. ‘Who did you do it for, then?’

  He wasn’t sure. Himself? Olivia? He didn’t know. He swivelled around in the leather armchair and stared out of the window. The night was black—the clouds were out. It would probably snow tonight.

  Will was silent and Edward was grateful for it. He needed to think.

  ‘Want a drink?’

  Will rose and went to his father’s secret Scotch stash in the bookshelf. Edward heard the clunk of ice and the glug of the whisky. He took the glass when Will handed it to him and heard the creak of leather as Will sat.

  ‘So, what’s going on with you and Liv?’

  That made Edward turn. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘It’s pretty obvious you’re keen. You have your tongue hanging out every time she walks past. I don’t blame you, mate—she is pretty fit.’

  Edward’s eyes went hard. Was he being that obvious? He’d thought he’d kept himself pretty tame. Or was Will noticing because he was worried about what he’d given up?

  ‘You’re not supposed to be noticing.’

  Will’s brows furrowed. ‘I’m getting married, not having my eyes plucked out.’

  ‘If you wanted to look at her you should have kept her to yourself instead of throwing her over for Fiona.’

  ‘I didn’t throw her over. I’d only just met her.’ Will stood and paced to the window.

  ‘You never think about who gets in your way, Will. You never worry about who you might hurt. Did you ever think that maybe you hurt Olivia that night? No, of course not.’

  Will swung around and stared at him hard. ‘What’s the matter, Ed—are you losing your touch? Have you found a woman who won’t fall at your feet?’

  ‘Don’t be an idiot, Will. Olivia and I hardly know each other.’

  ‘When I saw Fi I knew in a second that I would marry her. You don’t need long to realise that you love someone.’

  ‘I don’t love her! This wedding has turned you into a blithering idiot.’

  Will sauntered back to the chair and sat again, before taking a long sip and shooting his brother a sly look. Edward watched him, seething. In love? Only fools fell in love.

  ‘How do you feel when she’s not around? What are you thinking about most of the time? What are you going to do when she leaves?’

  Edward balled his fists. If it wasn’t his wedding tomorrow his brother would be sporting a very black eye. He wanted to open his mouth and deny it. Roar at Will for daring to suggest that he could let his emotions take over. But he didn’t. He felt sick when she wasn’t around. He thought about her all the damn time. And when she left...? He couldn’t even think about that.

  ‘That’s not love. It’s lust.’

  ‘So you’re in lust with her?’

  Edward didn’t answer. It was none of Will’s business how he felt about Olivia. And besides, she didn’t feel the same way.

  Will took another slug of whisky. ‘Well, you’ve stayed true to type anyway—I’ll give you that.’

  ‘I don’t have a type.’

  ‘Yes, you do. You always go for the women who will never get serious.’

  Edward blinked. No, he didn’t.

  ‘You love the chase but you always make sure there’s not enough to make it last.’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘Yes, it is. What about Perfect Penelope?’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘Penelope was beautiful. Untouchable. Wasn’t she some European princess or something? She used to complain all the time. No one would ever be good enough for Perfect Penelope.’

  Penelope had been beautiful. But also boring. It had taken about three months for him to figure that out...and leave.

  ‘And that other one—the French one—what was her name?’

  ‘Giselle.’

  ‘Giselle. She was a mad flirt.’

  Giselle had been a disaster. Fun, friendly—too friendly. With every bloke she met. That hadn’t lasted long either.

  ‘And now Olivia.’

  ‘Olivia’s nothing like...the others.’

  ‘Of course she is. She’s hot and fun and not looking for anything serious. Perfect for you. You can have your weekend and then move on. No need to get serious; just the way you like it.’

  Edward shifted in his chair. What did Will know? He didn’t deliberately choose women he could never end up in a relationship with. Did he? Perhaps it was time he thought about settling down, with a steady, responsible woman he could rely on. Not a sexy, crazy woman he couldn’t keep his hands off of. No, Olivia wasn’t the type of girl one married. She liked a good time too much. Liked to do things her own way. And she didn’t feel anything special for him anyway.

  Except for that kiss. In the conservatory. She’d been holding on to him as if he was an oxygen mask and she needed him to breathe. And he’d liked it. He liked that she’d clung to him and wanted more. And he liked that he’d wanted more from her. Much more.

  And therein lay the r
ub.

  He wanted more than she was willing to give.

  The woman was an expert at pulling him in and pushing him away. She couldn’t stick at anything. All those jobs, no steady relationship... Something clenched in his chest. He’d finally found someone he could talk to and laugh with and relax around and she would be gone in two days. She’d fly away with her too-blonde hair and never look back. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to let her go when the time came. Better not to even go there.

  ‘Olivia might be all right for a bit of fun, but I can assure you I’m not interested in having fun with her.’

  Will looked up and stared at something behind him. Edward swivelled in his chair and saw her. Standing in the doorway. Her face pale and her short black dress clinging desperately to her body. She still hadn’t put her bra back on. Her breasts looked full and her nipples hard and his body heated at the memory of them bare in the conservatory.

  The look of shock on her face was palpable. How much had she heard?

  ‘Oh. I see.’ That was all she said before turning and fleeing.

  SIXTEEN

  The tears hit Olivia’s cheeks before she’d even left the doorway. She’d come to see if Edward was all right. She’d come to tell him his mother had settled down and was drinking tea in the drawing room. She’d come to tell him he’d been brave and strong and that she thought he was the nicest man she’d ever met.

  ‘Olivia might be all right for a bit of fun, but I can assure you I’m not interested in having fun with her.’

  His words ran over and over in her head. She’d been right. That was all she was good for. Fun. No one ever took her seriously. He didn’t take her seriously. All she wanted to do was get into bed, wash her stupid make-up off, get this stupid dress off and cry herself to sleep.

  How could she ever have thought he’d want her? Her, with her inappropriate dresses and her snub nose and her freckled skin? He’d told her to stay away. He’d warned her. But she was too stupid to listen. She thought that maybe he felt something for her too. He’d said she’d got under his skin. But that was just another lie. He felt nothing for her. He was just laughing about her to his brother. Not interested. That was what he’d said. Even after their walk to the rocks, their afternoon at the maze...that kiss. Even after all that—he still didn’t want her. She was still unlovable.

  She felt something inside her break and she hoped it wasn’t her heart. Because if he broke her heart she wasn’t sure if it would ever mend.

  Slowly and deliberately she walked down the hall, counting the doors until she came to number seven. Her door. She put her hand on the handle.

  ‘Olivia.’

  Edward’s deep voice behind her made her still.

  ‘Wait.’

  She turned slowly, her brain taking a while to catch up with her body.

  ‘You misheard in there. Will and I were talking about something else. I can explain...’

  He stepped closer and Olivia stepped back. She was up against the door. He was too big and too close and she was still feeling sick.

  ‘Olivia...you have to listen to me.’

  Real concern flashed across his features and it made her feel even sicker. She’d been humiliated. By a man she realised she cared for more than she’d cared for anyone in a long time. A man who had made her feel beautiful and desirable. But it was all lies. He hadn’t been honest with her at all. Bunny was right. Some people weren’t cut out for love. She wasn’t cut out for love. No one could ever love her.

  ‘Olivia...’

  Edward lifted a finger to her face and touched her cheek. She flinched and let her head fall to the side.

  ‘I wasn’t saying what you thought I was...’

  ‘I don’t care what you were saying.’

  ‘Olivia, please, we need to talk. I have to tell you...how I feel. What I want.’

  She felt the anger that was simmering inside her pop and spit and start to boil over. ‘I don’t care what you want, Edward. I don’t care what any one of you wants. You all see me as someone easy. Fun. In for a good time. Well, let me tell you something, Lord Winchester.’ She stood up straight and took a step forward, poking her finger into his hard chest. He moved back, surprise evident on his face. ‘I like being single. I like being alone.’

  ‘Olivia...’

  He didn’t move. His eyes searched hers, then her face, as if he were desperately seeking something—perhaps a different answer. She wanted to give it to him, to tell him how she really felt. Want me! Need me! But the words wouldn’t pass through her lips. She held them in her brain, in her eyes, and she met his gaze.

  ‘Can’t we talk about this?’

  ‘No. You’re exactly like all the others.’

  She felt his heavy body move closer and saw his eyes narrow. His lips formed a thin line and she felt his anger push against her.

  ‘Don’t compare me with anyone else. I am me, and you are you. This is about us and no one else.’

  His voice was low and quiet but it rumbled with a threatening growl. The pale hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention and she tried to back away, but behind her was the thick timber door.

  She couldn’t get enough air; it felt as if it was coming into her by short bursts only. His black gaze sent a prickle of heat across her skin and a bead of perspiration formed between her breasts.

  ‘There is no you and me, Edward. You made that clear when you told Will you weren’t interested in me.’

  ‘I told Will I wasn’t interested in having fun with you because I want more than that. More than one weekend.’

  Liar. He was a liar. He thought she was worthless. Useless. Talentless. The spare. A body of organs in case her perfect sister needed a liver or a kidney or a couple of extra fingers. Pointless, ugly Olivia. The one no one wanted. The one no one even knew existed.

  She pushed on his chest but he didn’t move. She balled her fists and hit him but he still didn’t move. So she punched and pushed and cried. Want me, need me. Her mind kept repeating the mantra over and over. Want me, need me. The voice screamed and her fists pounded into him until his strong arms came around her.

  The hard edge of his shoulder pushed into hers. It forced her back further against the heavy door. His thigh pushed against her legs and she gasped as she involuntarily sucked in an Edward-laced breath.

  ‘Olivia.’

  His voice was soft and deep and calm and soothing but she struggled on. Wanting to hurt him, wanting to push him away.

  ‘Olivia.’

  He held her arms and squeezed her tighter. He held her until she stilled and the only sound was her quiet sobbing. Then she slipped her arms around his waist and he pulled her in tighter, his nose in her neck.

  ‘My beautiful Olivia.’

  His whispered words were making her shake and cry but he held her still, stroking her hair and kissing the tears on her cheeks. She looked up and met his soft brown eyes. He kept her close and looked right back at her, making her feel beautiful all over again.

  ‘It’s all right. I’m right here.’

  Something hard caught in her chest. She slipped her hand behind her back, turned the handle and opened the door. With her other hand she slipped her palm into his, and when she felt the door open behind her she didn’t think—just pulled him in.

  * * *

  Olivia pulled on Edward’s hand, leading him further in. When she turned the tears were gone from her eyes, to be replaced with something different. Something much more seductive. Almost predatory.

  ‘Stay with me.’

  Her voice was urgent, desperate. She slipped her small hand into his other palm and pulled him towards her as she walked backwards. Her hair had come loose from the knot on top of her head she’d hastily rearranged before dinner and strands were hanging around her face. One sid
e of her dress slipped from her shoulder, revealing her smooth skin beneath.

  ‘Come on, Edward. I dare you. Just come with me.’ Her eyes burned with challenge. Her voice was soft and melodic. Like a siren or a faerie. She looked wild and determined and he’d never wanted her more.

  But he couldn’t.

  She was sad and angry and upset.

  He couldn’t take advantage of her when she was like that.

  He had to think. For both of them. He held her hands tightly and brought his body up still.

  ‘Olivia, it’s been a rough night...for everyone.’

  The sweet challenge in her eyes changed to something harder. She stopped moving and squeezed his hands.

  ‘I need you, Edward.’

  ‘You need a rest. It’s a big day tomorrow. You need to sleep.’

  Anger flicked over her features. ‘What? Are you going to put me to bed again? Pull my blankets up and tell me to go to sleep like a good little girl?’

  Her cheeks pinkened and more hair fell around her face. She shook her head to get it out of her eyes. Out of those ridiculously long eyelashes.

  ‘But I’m not a good girl, Eddie. I’m a bad girl. A very bad girl.’

  She let go of his hands and before he knew what she was doing she’d slipped her zipper down and let her dress fall to the ground. Edward’s mouth dried up completely. His body grew even harder than it already was. She stood before him naked except for an absurdly undersized black pair of panties. Ludicrously undersized. One flick and they’d be gone.

  His eyes took in her muscled stomach and her breasts. Perfect and heavy and her nipples were pointing to attention. He remembered the taste of them. The way they’d gone rock-hard as he swirled his tongue. He wanted to reach out, pull her into his arms, throw her on the bed and lose himself in her body. In every bump and curve and moan and shiver and sweet, soft taste. But when he reached her eyes he knew he couldn’t. She wasn’t turned on. She was angry. Furious.

  ‘Olivia. What are you doing?’

  ‘What does it look like?’ She lifted her arms and he noticed the cording of muscles in her shoulders. She really worked out. ‘I’m throwing myself at you. Giving myself to you on a platter.’