Page 28 of When You Were Mine

Jess broke into a smile. “Sisters forever.”

“Right?”

“But no, as much as I wish it were the cardboard version, it’s the actual man.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. What the hell is Trevor Montgomery doing in Iceland? Let alone in the same hotel you’re renovating?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same question.” She drew the covers up to her chin. “But it gets worse.”

“No, it really doesn’t.”

“I’m not just turning the hotel into a resort. I’m getting it ready for a wedding.”

“I will accept a wedding for the president of the United States,” Amber said. “I will accept a wedding for Mickey and Minnie Mouse. I will not accept a wedding for the ex-boyfriend who shattered your heart.”

“I’m afraid you have no choice. He’s marrying Darby Pullman.”

“Am I supposed to know who that is?”

“She’s a race car driver.”

“You ever hear of Darby Pullman?” her sister asked her husband.

“Highest finishes by a woman in the Daytona 500 and Indy 500. She’s a NASCAR legend.”

“Oh, awesome.” Her sister came back on the line. “He couldn’t marry a recluse with yellow teeth? She has to be a freaking champion? Is she pretty?”

“I don’t know. I was so shocked I couldn’t even tell you what we had for dinner. I’m telling you, if you put ten women in a lineup, I couldn’t pick her out. Basically, I gave them the agenda for the next few days and then skittered off to my room like a rat.”

“Well, a beautiful, successful rat. But, man. This is awful. You want me to come out there? I’m coming out there. You don’t have to face this alone.”

“The only reason I’m here in the first place is because I have you guys running things at the Sweetwater. Besides, I only have a few more days of this.”

“You know what I’m thinking?” her sister asked. “This might be good. It might be the closure you never got.”

Uh huh. Sure.But she wouldn’t argue it over the phone. “True.”

“Maybe he’s boring. He might only talk about himself and not ask any questions. Or he tells drinking stories. Like, dude, I don’t care that you went car surfing after drinking twelve shots and a case of beer. Only for Trevor, it’ll be stories from the set. ‘This one time…’” Her sister deepened her voice. “‘I was in the middle of a sex scene, and the actress farted.’”

“That would be a funny story,” her husband said in the background. “I’d listen to that.”

“Okay, fine,” her sister said. “But maybe he smells like dirty underwear. Or he’s one of those guys who picks scabs off at the dinner table.”

“What do you mean one of those guys?” her husband asked. “How many guys do you know who did that?”

“Let’s just say there’s a reason I chose you.” Amber and her husband laughed.

Normally, she loved the way her sisters bantered with their husbands. It made her feel good to know they’d found their forever people. Did it hurt sometimes to be the third wheel?Oh, absolutely.But most of the time, she didn’t mind.

Right now, though, with the only man she’d ever loved snuggling in bed with his fiancée a few doors down…No. She couldn’t handle it. “Listen, I have to go.” When she sat up, the pain in her head traveled, stabbing the backs of her eyes. “I’m having breakfast with the bride and groom. Yay.” Even though her sister couldn’t see, she pumped a fist.

“Well, take your time getting ready. Use that Belle Starr body wash. Wear an outfit that makes you feel invincible. And remember everything you’ve done to reach this place in your life, the sacrifice you made to come home and help me through a really hard time. And that you’re the reason Kelly and I graduated college. And never forget how hard you worked, scrimped, and saved, to become the resort mogul you are today.”

I wish those accomplishments helped. But at that moment, when she hadn’t heard a single word from Joel—and no, she was not going to reach out to him first—when Trevor was living his best life with an accomplished race car driver, and she had to renovate a hotel for his wedding, she just didn’t have it in her. “Yep. I’m a real badass, all right.”

“You put on those Veronica Beard flare pants that showcase your tight cherry ass, and you will be. You brought them, right?”

“Of course. But my ass hasn’t looked like a cherry since high school.” She threw off the blanket—a cute, folksy quilt that would, unfortunately, have to be replaced. “All right, I’ve got to get moving.”

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