Bad Boy's Bridesmaid (11 page)

I shouldn’t have
asked. “Now what did I do?”

“You
cut
your hair without asking Lindsey!”

“Without…” I
tugged on my shorter locks. Here I thought I’d look cute, something to take my
mind off of the wedding, Nate, and the baby. Instead I caused some sort of
inter-family drama for a twenty dollar cut. “Why would I ask
Lindsey
?”

Lindsey stomped
a foot. “For the wedding, freakface!”

Too much. “Get
in the car.”

“You didn’t even
ask
if you could cut off what…seven inches of hair?”

“
Four
.
It’s no big deal.”

“It
is
a
big deal!” Lindsey sniffled. “You have no respect for me, for this wedding, for
the beauty we’re trying to create. You are the
worst
sister. Just once I
want you to think of
me
first!”

Right. Because
keeping the secret of my lifetime to spare the family any drama during the
wedding wasn’t enough. If she only knew how much I needed
her
, how I
wished my big sister would tell me everything was okay and that we’d get
through it.

But I didn’t
fight her. We had two days planned at the cabin, and the bridesmaids couldn’t
remember why they were drinking. I had to drive, and I had to get us there in
one piece.

“I’m sorry,
Lindsey.”

“That’s all I
wanted!” My sister wrapped me in a tight hug. “You do
care
about me.”

“Of course I
do.”

“And you know
how much I love you!”

Oh man.

I
knew
I
was wrong to doubt her. Stress and the spotlight just went to her head.

“I love you too,
Linds.”

“And this will
work out for the best.” She brushed away tears. “With your new haircut, I’ll
definitely be the prettiest at the altar.”

Son of a
—

I grunted. “Get
in the damn car.”

Lindsey obeyed,
squeezing in the back with her friends Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum, also known
as her college roommates Carmen and Amy. They rooted through the first-aid kit
and applied whatever medication they could find to Lindsey’s scrape.

That was how we
lost our only tube of calamine lotion. Nothing bad could possibly come from
that.

I had about two
hours until I got them to the cabin, tossed them in beds, and had a few minutes
of sober quiet.

Of course it
didn’t work that way.

I pulled off the
highway an hour later as Dad’s check engine light flicked on.

Lindsey mumbled
from the back seat. “Why are you slowing down? What’s wrong?”

I knew as much
about cars as I did pregnancy—and I learned too late what would happen if I let
Nate’s dipstick check my lubrication.

“Um…” The car
clunked. That probably wasn’t good. “I think it’s breaking down.”

Lindsey’s
supersonic scream awakened the passed out bridesmaids. I doubted her shrieking
would push the SUV the remaining twenty miles to the cabin.

“What do you
mean we’re
breaking down
? We’re in the middle of nowhere! There could be
bears outside!”

“
Bears
?”

“Or murderers!”

I eased off the
highway. “Maybe they’ll kill the bears.”

“Haha. You’re
always so funny. Well I’ll be the one laughing when you’re skinned alive first!”

“Jesus, Lindsey.
You’re a friendly drunk, but you’re a monster with a hangover.”

“Don’t start,
Rapunzel. This is your fault.”

“How can you be
mad at me?”

“I’m
mad
because every single time you have some responsibility for the wedding, we end
up with indigo invitations or no flowers or broken down on the side of the
road!” Lindsey kicked her bridesmaids to free herself from the mass of purses,
luggage, and bottles. She crawled into the passenger seat and grimaced as her
skirt hiked up to just under her bra. “Save the apologies for the cabin. I
don’t want to hear them now.”

“Good, cause I
wasn’t giving you any!”

“Don’t make me
call Mom.”

“Go on. Call
her.” I bluffed. “We’re in our
twenties
. Even she’ll tell you to grow
up.”

“
You
grow
up.”

Lindsey stole my
water and chugged it. She made a face, grabbed for the car door, and barely
opened it in time to throw up.

The splash
against the asphalt twisted my stomach.

And I had done
so
well battling the morning sickness tonight. The baby didn’t like his or her
aunt tossing her bouquet.

I opened my door
and threw up too.

“Oh you little
faker
.”
Lindsey ripped her cell from her pocket. “I can’t believe you’re so desperate
for attention you’d fake
vomiting
.”

I reached for my
water. Lindsey stole it and drank the rest.

“Who are you
calling?” I asked.

“Bryce.” She
pointed the phone at me. “I’m getting us out of here.
Someone
has to be
responsible.”

“I’m not trying
to start a fight—”

Lindsey thrust a
finger in my face to silence me as Bryce answered the call. She put him on
speaker-phone and called his name until he groggily awoke from a dead-sleep.

“Yeah,
sugarplum?” He grumbled. “What time is—”

“I need help. Dad’s
worthless SUV broke down. Of course he didn’t check to make sure it’d get us to
the cabin. I can’t believe he’s so careless.”

I bristled. “He
let us
borrow
it, Linds. And he loaned it to us with a full tank.”

“I don’t see
Dad
out here, pushing the car for us.” Lindsey grunted. “No wonder Mom left him.”

The irritation
swelled inside me. Baby or no baby, I’d walk home if she was going to be that
ugly.

“You have no
right to talk about Dad like that,” I said.

“Oh, I forgot.”
Lindsey rolled her eyes at her bridesmaids. “Mandy takes
Dad’s
side.”

“I’m not on
anyone’s
side!”

Bryce’s
connection crackled. “Angelkiss, where are you—”

Lindsey ignored
him. “You are too on a side. You’ve always believed Dad over Mom.”

“What’s there to
believe? They hate each other!”

“For good reason.”

“No. There’s
no
reason. I don’t know why we’re supposed to be happy they separated.”

Tears welled in
my eyes. Great. Now I was crying over my parents’ divorce like I was a ten year
old latchkey kid caught in a custody battle.

Lindsey groaned.
“Oh, Mandy, grow up. Dad’s worthless and Mom kicked him out. Just be glad the
holidays will be less insane.” She flicked her phone. “Bryce, we’re on the
highway somewhere. Drive until you find us.”

He preemptively
apologized. “But, tootsie, I’m not at home…”

“
What
?”

“I told you. You
were going to the cabin, so I went with Rick to—”

“That
lecture
?
In Ironfield?”

“He wanted
company, and since he’s still hung up on Jada—”

“You’re leaving
me
stranded
?”

“Call AAA.”

“I have a better
idea. What if I just get eaten by
bears
?”

“There aren’t
any bears near the cabin—”

I sighed. “Don’t
bother, Bryce. Lindsey thinks we’re gonna get Texas Chainsawed up here because
every serial killer in a hundred-mile radius wants to ruin the wedding.”

Lindsey sneered.
“You are such a little brat.”

Bryce cleared
his throat. “Look, I’ll call Nate.”

My stomach
dropped.

Lindsey sighed. “Fine.”

“No!” I didn’t
mean to shout. “We’ll be fine. Don’t call Nate.”

“I am not going
to sit here alone for some skeevy tow-truck driver,” Lindsey said. “It’s dangerous.
We’re too pretty to get trafficked, and I am
not
above trading one of
you—” She pointed to the blitzed bridesmaids. “—So I can escape and get
married.”

“Really, we’ll
be fine without Nate.”

My sister took
the phone off speaker. “We’re like twenty minutes from the exit. Tell him to
hurry.”

She ended the
call. I said nothing.

“What?” Lindsey
crossed her arms. “What? Just say it.”

“We could have
handled it ourselves.”

She glanced at
the bridesmaids. I didn’t trust her smile. “I know what this is.”

My stomach
twisted. Could I get sick without her noticing? “What
what
is?”

“Nate.”

“There’s nothing
about Nate.”

“Of course there
is. I’m not blind, Mandy.”

I swallowed, but
nothing made it past the rock in my throat. Instantly my body broke out in a
cold sweat, and the morning sickness surged in the middle of the night.

“Lindsey, it’s
not what you think it is.”

“I’ve known for
a long time.”

“You have?”

“
Everyone
knows. And, quite frankly, we’re too nice to say anything. But not now. I think
it’s completely inappropriate.”

I hadn’t had a
single drink, but I felt like I got smacked by the empty whiskey bottle. I
stared ahead at the dark highway, struggling with a breath that hurt to take.

“You hate Nate,”
she said.

My eyes widened.
Lindsey crossed her arms, smug.

“I
hate
him?”

“Of course you
do. You always have. You’ve been nothing but a bitch to him these past few
months, even when he’s trying to be nice. You’ve resented that he’s so involved
in the wedding, and it’s
selfish
.”

Well, that was a
freebie. “You’re right. That’s it. I hate Nate.”

“I can’t believe
you’d just agree like that.”

“What can I say?
I hate the both player and his game.”

“Do you want
this wedding to fail?”

I gritted my
teeth. “I have done nothing but support you.”

“You don’t
support me. You never have.” She shook her head. “If it wouldn’t destroy Mom,
I’d kick you out of the wedding.”

“Because of
Nate
?”

“Yes!”

I laughed. “You
have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Fine. You’re
out of the wedding!”

The SUV
silenced. I should have argued. I should have told my sister she was stressed,
tired, and drunk, and that she didn’t mean it.

But after
spending three hundred dollars of my own money on her bachelorette party, I was
done. I didn’t have the alcohol to blame on my rage, but I had a baby twisting
my hormones. I was pretty sure the kid was on my side in this.

“Sounds good.” I
tore the seatbelt off me. “You’re on your own.”

“And I’ll do a
better job than you.”

“Fine.”

“
Fine
!”
Lindsey crossed her arms. “Hogface.”

Childhood
insults now? I kicked the door open. “Feetmuncher!”

“Douche Canoe!”

I slammed the
door before I said the
real
insult on my mind. Lindsey couldn’t roll the
window down without the keys.

She screamed
instead.

“
Twatwaffle
!”

“I’m out of the
car!”

“Get in here
before you’re eaten by a bear!”

“Oh my God,
Lindsey, there are no
bears!”

I sat on the
guardrail and ignored her insults. After ten minutes she gave up and yelled at
her bridesmaids. They lowered their seats and tried to sleep.

Not a soul
passed us on the highway. The wind whistled through the wetlands below the
guardrail. I swallowed. Whatever lurked in the grasses and shrubs rustled a lot
and got too close. I smacked at imaginary bugs and pretended I didn’t have to
go to the bathroom.

A
long
hour passed before headlights pulled up. Nate parked and got out of his car. That
cocky smile was saved just for me and my desperation.

“You look like
you need a rescue,” he said.

After an hour in
the damp and chill, simmering in rage, and planning how best to turn my
maid-of-honor dress into rags for waxing my car, I didn’t have the energy to
argue with a man I was supposed to hate.

Except I didn’t
hate him.

I didn’t hate
his cocky smile.

I never hated
the intense and perfect green of his eyes.

And there was no
way I’d ever hate the feel of his body pressed against mine, either between the
sheets or sitting at my side on the guardrail.