Page 1 of Strictly Pretend

CHAPTER

ONE

EMMA

It’s funny isn’t it, how life turns on a dime? One minute you’re running to the bathroom because you drank way too much champagne at your best friend’s wedding and the battle of the bladder versus the dress has finally finished with a victor — your overfull bladder that has to be emptiedright now.

And then everything that can go wrong, does.

Because yes, getting out of this stupidly fluffy, pink marshmallow of a bridesmaid’s dress is going to be almost impossible in the tiny stalls that the overpaid designers of the Eastham Country Club thought to install.

I blame Mia. My best friend. Or former and now best friend. It’s complicated, but there’s plenty of time to tell you about that. Just as soon as I open the door to the bathroom and…

Oh!

That’s my first thought.

I’ve interrupted a very inebriated couple who decided it’s way too far to walk to the beautifully overexpensive cottages we’ve all rented out in order to indulge in a knee trembling delight.

My second thought, in case you’re wondering, is that I recognize the boxer shorts around the man’s knees.

Because I washed them yesterday. Then hung them on the line in his laundry room because they’re silk and he doesn’t like anything silk going in his tumble dryer.

My third thought is that he’s havingwaymore fun pumping in and out of the bride’s cousin in the red dress that’s hiked up around her waist than he’s ever had with me.

When was the last time Will and I even had sex? Oh, that’s his name, by the way. Will. Or if you want the full title – since you’re currently witnessing his very enthusiastic thrusts – it’s William Paxton Devries II.

I always imagined I’d be a screamer in this situation. But I’m completely mute. Neither of them know I’m here, bearing witness to my boyfriend’s infidelity.

The man I’m supposed to share a bed with tonight. The man I’ve shared everything with for the last six months.

I back out of the room as quietly as a mouse, trying to remember how to breathe. All I can think of is that I still need to pee. And how mundane that is when my world is falling apart.

Still, I run to the next nearest bathroom, which is the men’s restroom, but who cares right now? My heart is pounding as I stride to the closest stall, yanking the door open before I squeeze myself and my stupidly fluffy cotton candy dress inside.

There’s only one way to go to the bathroom when you’re a bridesmaid masquerading as a milkmaid and that involves taking the whole dress off. Once it’s hanging on the door I pull down the barely there panties that I honestly thought Will would love, over the thigh high white stockings and let them rest around my ankles.

I’m still trying to think everything through when I hear the restroom door bang open, followed by the sound of footsteps.

Somebody shoves the door to my stall, and it creaks open because I’m a stupid idiot who didn’t remember to slide the lock closed.

“Oh, my word.” The bride’s Great Uncle Fred stares at me as I sit on the toilet naked, save for my demi cup lace bra.

“I’m sorry,” I say conversationally, like we’re shooting the breeze. “This stall’s taken.”

“I can see that.” He looks at me. “That’s nice. Pretty. Mia has good taste.”

I’m not sure if he’s talking about me or the dress at the moment, but since we’re acting like we’re besties exchanging pleasantries I smile and nod. “Yes, she does.”

“Fuchsia, is it?” he asks, shifting his feet.

“Rose, I think,” I tell him. “It’s too muted for fuchsia.”

“Hmm, yes. Well, have a lovely evening,” he says, turning away. Then he stops and I can almost see the frown forming on his face. “Isn’t this the men’s room?”

“Yes, it is,” I tell him. “Sorry. It’s just that my boyfriend’s balls deep in a woman who’s not me in the ladies’ bathroom.”

“Jolly good,” he nods. “I’ll be off then.” He backs away, then turns, walking faster than any octogenarian has the right to. I push the door to the stall closed and lock it this time, wondering if this night can get any worse.

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