One
Together with their families, Amberly Justine Weekes and Bradford Garrett Harris
request the pleasure of your company for a destination affair
to celebrate the union of their marriage.
Saturday, May 15th, 2016 at 5 o’clock in the evening at the Casa Blanca Resort & Spa
Mimosa Key, Florida.
Dinner and dancing to follow.
Was this a joke?
Emily Proctor turned the thick card stock over in her hand. Her eyes skimmed over the fancy lettering one more time before she examined the RSVP card that politely requested her information—along with that of her date’s. Also inside the envelope was all the information needed to reserve a room at the swanky Florida resort for the three days prior to the wedding.
It wasn’t a joke. This was her worst nightmare.
A destination wedding. In Florida! On the beach!
The entire time she’d dated Brad he’d never so much as splurged on lunch. Of course, it was Amberly’s parents who were undoubtedly doling out what had to be considerable cash for this destination wedding. And Emily knew all too well the sort of money Amberly’s family had. They’d been best friends for years.
Been.
As in, not anymore.
Not since Brad had broken it off with Emily to be with her best friend. True, she and Brad had been nowhere near the engagement stage of their relationship when it ended. And she supposed she had to appreciate the fact that Brad and Amberly had waited an entire month after the breakup to make their relationship official. That didn’t mean it hadn’t stung, though. It didn’t mean Emily didn’t feel the burn of embarrassment every time she saw a post from Amberly on Instagram showing the two of them smiling and happy.
The fact that she still followed her former friend on Instagram proved how utterly pathetic Emily was. A pathetic social media stalker who couldn’t bring herself to leave well enough alone. The only person she was punishing by looking at the pics was herself.
Maybe if she’d cut ties with Amberly on social media months ago, she wouldn’t be staring at this elaborate invitation now. Then again, maybe Amberly and Brad had invited her knowing full well Emily wouldn’t have the guts to show up. A way of being the bigger person without actually being magnanimous.
Ugh.
Indecision twisted Emily’s stomach into an unyielding knot. If she stayed home, there might be some chance of salvaging her pride. If she didn’t go, all of their mutual friends would think she was a coward. Maybe if she was forced to sit on a gorgeous, sandy beach and listen to Brad make his vows to Amberly, it would help her get over him once and for all.
Either that, or she’d spontaneously combust.
One thing was certain: she couldn’t show up at her ex’s wedding without a date. Nothing screamed, I’m a pathetic loser! like showing up to a wedding unattached. She could already practically feel the waves of unwanted sympathy rolling over her.
Emily grabbed her phone and opened the web browser. She typed, Casa Blanca Resort and Spa, Mimosa Key, Florida into the search bar. Gorgeous images of blue water, towering palm trees, soft sand, and posh bungalows popped up on the screen. Beautiful. The place was an oasis. An island paradise on the Gulf of Mexico. She stared at the images, as perfect as the couple whose engagement picture smiled back at her from the expensive invitations.
How could Emily possibly bring herself to go?
How could she not?
She hit the button on her phone to take her back to the home screen. Her index finger hovered over the screen for a brief moment before she opened a new messageand fired off a quick text that read,Lunch? Emily’s toe tapped impatiently as she waited for a response.
Sure. At the station today. Meet at By the Slice? Noon?
Emily let out a slow sigh as relief washed over her. If she was going to go to this wedding, there was no way she could do it alone. She’d never survive the curious glances, the whispers behind her back, the sympathy from their once mutual friends that would no doubt gut her. Emily needed a wingman, and she knew of no one more loyal than Chance. They’d known each other since middle school. He’d been her first crush and occasional partner in crime. Chance had offered his shoulder to cry on when Brad dumped her. He was her best friend. No way would he leave her hanging now.
Of course, there was a first time for everything. He hadn’t heard her proposition yet.
Showing up with a friend wouldn’t be as humiliating as showing up alone. But with any luck she could convince Chance to go one step further. He was a firefighter and an EMT. Helping those in need was part of his everyday life. This might as well be a life or death situation. Because if she had to show up at Brad’s wedding anything less than 100 percent confident, she was going to need more than an EMT to jump start her heart.
#
Chance McCall waited in a booth at By the Slice. He checked his watch, twelve-oh-five. He couldn’t remember a single time in a decade that Emily showed up on time for something. A wry smile curved his lips as he noticed her VW bug speed up to the restaurant and come to a screeching halt in a parallel parking space. Their server approached the table at the exact same moment and set two plates of steaming peperoni pizza—two slices for her and one for him—on the table. Perfect timing. He peeled the paper wrapper from a straw and stuck it into her tall glass of root beer. Some things never changed. One of those being Emily’s love of pizza and root beer.
Another being the way his heart kicked into high gear every time she walked into a room.
Pathetic, much? Chance picked at his peperoni as he watched Emily check her purse for the third time before closing the car door. She habitually locked her keys inside, which was why Chance had the spare. Since the day his family had moved into the house down the block from hers, they’d been nearly inseparable. Best friends. She’d been his girlfriend for a while in middle school. Until she’d decided that they were better off as friends.
Chase’s chest gave a little tug and he rubbed at his sternum. He’d been fourteen when Emily told him they should stay friends and almost twelve years later it still hurt. Not that he didn’t value their friendship. Just like the guys at the firehouse, Emily was his family. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. Including lunch at a pizza place that gave him heartburn every time he ate here.
“Hey!” Emily slid into the booth. “Sorry I’m late.”
The scent of lilacs wafted from her and Chance filled his lungs. She smelled like spring. Fresh, floral, and clean. “If we’re going by Emily Standard Time, you’re not late at all.”
Her full lips spread into a wry grin. “Ha, ha. You’re hilarious.”
Chance had lost count of how many times he’d studied her lush mouth and wished he could kiss it. He’d committed every detail of her face to memory years ago. Every time he closed his eyes, she was there. Beautiful Emily who only wanted to be friends…
She flipped her long chestnut hair over her shoulder and scooped up a wide, thin slice of New York style pizza. She folded it in half and took a big bite. “You must be psychic. Today is definitely a two slice day,” she said after taking a long pull from her straw. “In fact, I might as well tell our server to keep the slices and root beer coming.”
“What’s wrong?” If she was prepared to drown her sorrows in a vat of root beer, it must be bad.
She bit off another bite and chewed. Her dark brows came down over her expressive hazel eyes and she sighed. “Brad and Amberly are getting married.”
Brad Harris was a grade-A douchebag. Emily had fallen head-over-heels for him and devoted an entire year to him before he’d promptly dumped her for her best friend. How any man could walk away from Emily Proctor was beyond him, but Chance was glad they were finally making it official. Maybe now Emily would get some closure.
“Sorry, Em.” Chance turned his attention to his own pizza and tore off a monster bite. “The guy’s a jerk. I hate that you had to find out at all.”
She let out a chuff of breath. “They sent me an invitation.” Her voice hitched on the words. “It’s a destination wedding in Mimosa Key, Florida. At a fancy resort. The Casa Blanca Resort and Spa on Barefoot Bay.” She leaned over and took another long pull from the straw. “Can you believe that? They actually had the nerve to invite me to their wedding!”
Didn’t surprise Chance in the slightest. Whether intentional or not, it pissed him off that Brad and Amberly would rub their happiness in Emily’s face. Too bad they’ve moved out of town a few months ago. He’d love the opportunity to show Brad how he felt about the invite. With his fist.
“The thing is…” Emily looked up at him with wide, imploring eyes.
Chance swallowed down a groan. “Whatever you’re thinking, Em—”
“I can’t not go.” She fiddled with her straw, punching it down into the cup.
Oh, hell. Whatever she was thinking couldn’t possibly be good. “Sure you can,” Chance said. “Just tear the damn invitation up and throw it in the trash. It’s that simple.”
“It’s not that simple.” She took another monster bite of pizza. The silence while she chewed stretched between them, amping up the tension. “If I don’t go, people will think I’m scared to show my face.”
“Why do you care what anyone thinks?” Chance never cared what anyone thought about him. He could never understand why Emily did.
“It’s a pride thing,” she said, low.
Chance understood pride. He was a man after all. But that didn’t mean he wanted Emily to subject herself to the pain and humiliation of watching someone she’d been in love with pledge his love and loyalty to someone else.
“I need a date,” she began. Chance’s stomach tied into a knot. “Not just a date. I need…”
No. No freaking way.
“A fiancé.”
Chance swallowed. Hard. His heart thundered and his blood rushed in his veins. She was about to make him an offer he couldn’t refuse. One he wouldn’t refuse, despite what it might do to him.
“You’ll go with me, right?” She sucked on the straw and it made a slurping sound as she drained the rest of her root beer, her wide hazel eyes trained on him. “I mean, you know me better than anyone. You’re the best person to be pretend engaged to.”
Pretend. The word stung and Chance fought the urge to once again rub at his chest. “You don’t have to pretend, Em—”
“Yes I do!” She wasn’t about to let him get a word in edgewise today. “I can’t show up there single. And if I told everyone I was engaged, no one will think I’m a pathetic loser. They’ll think I’m happy and moving on. It’ll eliminate any drama.”
“You’re not happy?” Chance didn’t want to think that Emily was still hung up on that piece of human garbage. “You haven’t moved on?”
“I mean, yeah. I am. And I have.” Her tone wasn’t in the least bit convincing. “I just…” She let out a slow sigh. “The trip is on me. Please go with me, Chance. I can’t do this without you.”
Damn it. He never could deny her anything. “All right, Em. I’m in.”