Nothing.
Not a single fucking thing.
Time to put my heart and hopes back on ice.
CHAPTER THREE
Ben: Hey, how you going?
Ben: You doing okay? Studies all good and everything?
Ben: C’mon, Liz. Talk to me. I’m still your friend.
Ben: So I guess you’ll be at the wedding?
* * *
“He’s not really going to wear one of those white satin Elvis jumpsuits, is he?”
My sister shrugged. “Whatever makes him happy.”
“Yeah, but this is your wedding.”
“Our wedding¸” she corrected, applying a final coat of lipstick then blotting it carefully on a tissue.
“God, Anne. You look amazing.”
She really did. The vintage lace dress was divine. With her bright-red hair artfully drawn back from her face, she looked so elegant. I had to blink a time or two, my eyes actually getting a little misty. Given how long the makeup artist had labored over my face, I didn’t dare mess up her hard work.
“Thank you.” She reached out¸ giving my hand a squeeze. “You’re looking pretty awesome yourself, birthday girl.”
My birthday had actually been yesterday. Anne had insisted on waiting until I was old enough to legally join in the wedding celebrations in Vegas. Rather an unexpected delight, since treating me like a full-fledged grown-up wasn’t really her thing.
Ev, Lena, Anne, and I had spent my birthday hanging out in this Bellagio villa’s personal hot tub, nibbling yummy things and sipping cocktails while being waited on hand and foot. Because of course the villa came with a personal butler. Oh, and the outdoor fireplace had been roaring because during December in the desert it actually does cool right down at night. Last but not least, we had cake pops, because nothing could possibly be better than cake on a stick covered in candy.
That shit owned my soul.
I smoothed down the skirt of my own vintage dress, a knee-length ink-blue Dior number we’d found during a Saturday market hunt a few weeks back. It was beautiful. Feminine without being froufrou. My hair too had been pulled back into a simple but classy style.
Wonder what Ben would think.
Not that it mattered. I felt good about how I looked and that was that. My world didn’t stop or spin based purely on his or any other male’s validation. Until my feelings for Ben simmered down some, however, I’d just keep doing my best to avoid him—or at least eye contact with him. Even a stubborn heart like mine had to give up eventually. School had been busy and work much the same. What with Anne occupied with wedding arrangements, Rhys had given me extra hours in the bookstore, so there’d been plenty to keep me occupied. Ben Nicholson had been little more than a stray thought. Mostly. It would be nice later tonight to get out and let my hair down a little. See what Vegas was all about.
Sam stood, giving me a nod. It was time. Any lingering thoughts about the man gave way to squeeful excitement. Muted conversation could be heard coming from the living room, the faint sounds of music.
“Okay, future Mrs. Ericson. Everyone’s arrived so—”
“Pumpkin!” an overly familiar voice wailed. “Pumpkin, where are you?”
A picture of perfect calm, Anne turned to face the doorway and hollered back, “In here.”
The doors crashed inward and Mal appeared, turned out in a truly amazing slick black suit with matching Converse on his feet. What a sight. His golden hair shone, falling over his shoulders. Left undone at the bride’s request. Already he felt more like a brother. But even I had to admit, the man had it going on and then some.
“You’re not meant to see me before the ceremony,” said Anne.
“I don’t like rules.”
“I noticed.”
He ambled up to Anne with a faint smile on his face. “You know, I look pretty fucking awesome. But, Pumpkin, you look even better.”
My sister smiled back at him. “Thank you.”
“Gonna marry me?”
“You better believe it.”
He buried his face in her neck. A moment later Anne squeaked and beat him on the back. “Do not give me a hickey before the wedding, Mal, or I will kill you.”
Maniacal laughter filled the room.
“I’m serious!”
“I love you. Let’s wed it on.” Like something out of a movie, he swooped her up into his arms and carried her out, pausing briefly at the door. “You don’t look too bad either, Lizzy. C’mon, let’s do this!”
I picked up both mine and Anne’s bouquets and followed with a smile. This was going to be awesome.
Out in the super fancy living room, the furniture had been set aside, leaving plenty of space for the ceremony. And the Santa Elvis performing it. The big bewigged guy wore a belt bearing so many sparkly stones it was a wonder his pants stayed up. That thing had to weigh a ton. Vases full of red roses covered every available surface, the heady scent filling the room. A roaring fire burned in the corner. It was perfect, beautiful, and there were so many happy, familiar faces all gathered around, waiting to share the moment. Anne finally had the family she deserved.
In the corner, a string quartet started playing, and Santa Elvis opened his mouth. His rendition of “Love Me Tender” was wonderful. Or so I was later told.
Ben stood to the side with Jimmy and David, all of them dressed in similar dark suits. Only Ben had actually ditched his jacket and tie. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, leaving the ink on his thick arms exposed. God, he was glorious. So … manly, for want of a better word. Everyone else faded into the background. He looked so damn fine. It hurt, and angry or not I’d have told him as much, had I been able to find my tongue.
He looked up and found me staring. There was no censure in his eyes. Just the same, embarrassment threatened to flood me, turning my face to red. But he stopped and stared at me too. If our breathing and hearts were beating in exactly the same rhythm, it wouldn’t have surprised me. It was crazy. I should have known better by now.
There was just me and him.
Things were said and I heard my sister’s laughter.
His gaze strayed down over my dress then back up again. Little lines appeared beside his eyes, his face tensing. As for me, my jaw ached from all the things I was holding in, all the words left unsaid. Or maybe it was just more of the same, the urge to convince him that there was something real between us that was worth the risk. Some jumble of sex and friendship and I don’t know what. The fabled connection.
In all likelihood, he still wouldn’t want to hear it. The man made my head and my heart hurt.