Rory was on his date.

He was out there, having a grand old time and where was she? Lying on the bed in her hotel suite, staring blankly at the ceiling, watching as the fan above her turned in slow circles. Her eyes were heavy, not from physical exhaustion but from mental strain.

Her phone vibrated on the nightstand, and she reached for it to check who was calling. It had been forty-eight hours since Peter had announced his engagement for all the world to see and she still wasn’t particularly in the mood to hear from her family yet.

Just her luck, the caller was her sister Fiona.

She groaned, briefly thought about answering the call but decided against it. As Fiona had done at least ten times by now, Gina figured she’d leave another voicemail.

The phone continued to purr in her hand, and when it stopped she waited for the voicemail alert to pop up. When it did, she sighed as she swiped her finger across the phone to listen to the message.

Gina groaned. That was all she needed to hear. She deleted the voicemail and dropped the phone back onto the bed with a heavy sigh. Peter was everything her family ever wanted for her. He was everything she ever thought she wanted as well, but his lying, cheating ass proved to be incompatible.

She forced herself out of bed, though she honestly could have lay there for days, if only it weren’t for that pesky little thing called work.

And, more specifically, Rory.

She sat up in bed and pushed her back to the wall, reached for a pillow and pulled it into her lap to cradle as she thought back to the previous night.

He’d kissed her. Or at least he tried.

But why? That was the question that was keeping her up late at night. From there, other questions branched out like a tree. What were his intentions? Why did she react the way she did? And why did all these questions seem to matter so much?

Her feet landed against soft carpet as she made two quick steps to the mini-fridge, ripped it open, and grabbed an ice-cold bottle of tequila.

It wasn’t Rory that had her reeling. Not really. This—the kiss, the weakness, the doubt—all of it was for one reason: Peter. Peter and his stupid, thoughtless engagement.

She drained the mini bottle of tequila, set it back on the counter and let the deep, slow burn coat her throat.

Well, guess what? Daphne Ferrel could have Peter. Gina couldn’t care less. Sure, on some level, she had lingering anger and hurt, but Daphne and Peter deserved each other.

After all, Daphne wasn’t the only girl Peter had cheated on Gina with. She was just the one who was lucky enough to be picked as Gina’s replacement.

An S-list singer-turned-actress who wasn’t very good at either of her jobs. A try-hard wannabe dreaming of a fairy tale happily ever after with one of the hottest actors in the world. Daphne must not have realized that fairy tales never last forever.

Shit, I’m bitter, Gina thought to herself with a slight grimace as she twisted the cap off another mini bottle of tequila.

“To Daphne and Peter.”

She eyed the tequila, and found herself tapping her fingers along the edge of the bar instead of drinking it. Then, then the rhythm reached her, she started. She was tapping that same beat Rory had been toying with all day the day before, the song he’d sung for her on the boardwalk.

He’s getting to me…

With a frustrated sigh, she reached for the remote, but then she looked down, she found her phone in her hand instead. Shit. It was a sign or something. She held her hand above the screen and grumbled under her breath.

This was the real reason she’d been drinking. Not because of Peter’s stupid wedding and not just because of Rory, although she hated to admit that he was a huge part of it. But mostly because she knew what she had to do. Her job.

She just didn’t want to do it.

Once she found his number—still saved into her phone after all this time—she hesitated for a moment before pressing with her thumb against the screen.

Her heart thundered in her chest in the short period of silence before the first ring. And after the first ring, she tried to take a steadying breath, but it was no use—the blood was hammering in her ears and she felt woozy and weak. The terrible, awful way Peter made her feel.

And then the line clicked to life, and she held her breath, waiting for the deep voice she still knew all too well.

“Hello, Gina,” he said, voice low and curious. “I have to say, I didn’t expect to hear from you ever again.”

“Yeah, well, we hardly ended on great terms,” she shot back.

“Never mind, I know why you’re calling,” he said. “You think I should call off the wedding or something—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed. “The truth…the truth is that I need a favor from you and getting back together with me is so not it.”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in what this favor is.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I mean, really interested.”

Gina couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or if he was being a smartass. It didn’t exactly matter either way as she had one job to do and one job only. “Look, Peter. Think of what I’m about to ask you as a business arrangement.”

“You have my ear.”

“As you may or may not be aware,” she said, “I’m working publicity for the band, Sub-Zero.”

“Yeah, I heard that. Quite the fall from grace if you ask me.”

Gina swallowed her pride—literally—and forced a smile even though she knew he couldn’t see her through the phone. “Sub-Zero is on the rise and they’re still riding the success of the previous tour. We’re working to integrate the drummer, Rory, more into the spotlight since the lead singer is now engaged.”

“What does this have to do with me?”

“I want an invite for Rory.”

“You can’t be serious,” he laughed, but she remained calm and steady. “Why would I do that? Close family and friends only.”

“The band is a hot-ticket item, and Rory is about to be one of the biggest names in town. His presence at your wedding would increase media coverage.”

Personally, if Gina were getting married, she’d hate to have any publicity at all. She was more of the private breed, preferring intimacy and privacy over fame and fortune. But Peter was different and since she dated the asshole for a long time, she understood his basic needs; to be loved and adored.

To him, everything was about publicity. Nothing was sacred. Something Gina knew all too well when, two weeks after their breakup, Peter himself made an appearance on the cover of US Weekly with a feature inside where he openly discussed his broken heart.

“Fine,” Peter huffed with an air of superiority and she could just tell there was going to be an addendum to him agreeing to her proposal. “I’ll help you out for old time’s sake and send an invite to his agent.”

“Awesome.” Gina nodded, still waiting for the all-important but…

“But,” Peter began, and she frowned, “since there are no hard feelings, I’d like you to come along, too.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll send you an e-vite.”

“I think I’ll be out of town,” she lied right through her teeth. “I’m sorry.”

“Come on,” he pleaded. “You’re basically your own boss, so you can make your own schedule. And just think of how it would look to have the former jilted girlfriend come to the wedding. Talk about publicity.”

Jesus, he was a cold bastard. She couldn’t help but wonder what his future wife would think about this little plan and found herself pitying the girl. For a second.

“It’s just not in the cards.” She swallowed, trying to think quick on her feet as she readied her next excuse. “I have a wedding to go to in Whistler.”

“Who the hell would ever get married in Whistler?” Peter questioned, and she couldn’t help but to wonder the answer to the same question. That would be insane… and cold… And insane.

“Look, here’s the new deal: If you don’t show up, Rory doesn’t get in,” he countered.

“You’re seriously going to blackmail me?”

"I would never do such a thing.”

“Fine,” she muttered into the phone. “I’ll cancel on the other wedding and see you there.”

“That’s all I needed to hear. I’ll see you soon.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” She hung up the phone and threw it onto the bed beside her.

That day was sure to be the worst day of her life. On top of being awkward, it was also going to be embarrassing. Peter had left her in a high-profile way and the majority of the guests would look at her with sympathy or something far worse: pity.

That wasn’t the problem, though, she realized with growing surprise. In fact, even talking to Peter hadn’t been a problem. The usual emotions that swamped her had been notably absent, replaced by mostly annoyance and irritation.

No, the problem—the root of this fresh sense of dread and gloom—was that she realized now that the invite was set to go out, she would be forced to be in the same room with Rory…

And his date.

For some reason, that felt like the ninth level of hell.