I snuck out of the bridal suite with Dahlia shooting daggers at me before her eyes softened into a silent plea for help. Every man for himself. She was on her own. When the photographer knocked on the door summoning me for some pre-wedding pictures, I almost kissed him full on the lips.

The last thing I wanted to do was go over my sexual exploits with a bunch of women I didn’t even know. Once they found out about the club I owned, that was all it took for the questions to come rapid fire. I needed to get out of there.

I ran my fingers over the delicate, bright purple-and-pink flowers lining the path to our photo spot. The photographer ran off to grab John and Killian. I’d never been happier to wait in my life. The lush, vibrant colors of the garden surrounded me. Tranquil and relaxing were not how I’d describe my morning. I came to the small center of the garden, dotted with stone benches and my peaceful little scene was stopped in its tracks. Sobbing, heart-wrenching sobbing, sliced through the thick summer air.

“Hey, are you okay?” I asked the obviously-not-okay, sobbing woman in a wedding dress.

She glanced up at me with a shocked and embarrassed look on her face. Wiping away at her smeared, running mascara she sniffed and nodded.

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking,” she said, her voice cracking and her eyes filling back up with tears. I stepped closer and dug through the little bridesmaid survival kit we’d all been given. I’d never been happier for a travel pack of tissues.

“Here you go,” I said, handing them over to her. She took the pack from me with a grateful look.

“Thanks,” she said quietly and took out a few tissues. Her dress was breathtaking. Fitted, embroidered, and covered with crystals. Someone in a dress like that shouldn’t be having a bad day. I opened my mouth to ask her what was wrong when she let out the almightiest nose trumpeting I’d ever heard. If I’d found out she was part elephant, I wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised. Not that it had anything to do with her size. She was small. Petite.

“Thanks for the tissues,” she said, clutching the used one in her hand.

“Do you mind if I sit?” I asked gesturing to the bench where she was sitting.

“No, not at all,” she said, scooting over, moving her massive skirt out of the way. We sat in silence for a bit. I knew the guys would be down any minute, but I didn’t want to leave her like this. It seemed like she was really having a hard time of it.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, staring at the garden around us.

“No, I’m f--.” She took a deep breath like she was trying to compose herself. “I’m not fine. I’m not fine. I was supposed to get married today.” She fluffed the train of her dress. “I guess that part was obvious, huh?” she said with a small, sad smile.

“I pieced it together,” I said with a small smile.

“I should be relieved. I should be doing cartwheels in this fucking garden,” she said, glancing around like someone from the Swear Police was going to show up and arrest her. “He left me at the altar. After everything I put up with and found out about him, and he left me standing up there in front of everyone. And do you know the first thing I felt when he ran out?” She turned to me and grabbed one of my hands. I shook my head. I had no idea what the hell was going on, but it seemed like she needed to vent. “Relief. I was so--” she glanced around again. “Fucking relieved to not have to go through with it. The embarrassment, shame, and anger spiral started the minute I turned around and saw everyone’s faces. I don’t know what to do.”

“Wow.” There were no words. I think at some point they existed, but right then, there were no words.

“Definitely wow,” she said, turning to me with the sad look back on her face. “I need to get out of here.” She stood and glanced around. “Thank you for your help.” I’d literally said five words, but I wasn’t going to correct her.

“Do you need some help or something? Do you need me to take you somewhere?”

“No, I’ll be okay.” She lifted her massive dress and took off in the opposite direction of the hotel. Loud voices came from behind me. John, Killian, and the photographer and his assistant, snapping away, popped out of the path and spotted me.

“Hey, you look like a real live girl, two days in a row,” Killian said, hugging me tight.

“Ha ha ha, you’re hilarious,” I said, pushing him away. The shutter of the camera clicked as the three of us tried to look normal and natural with two cameras in our faces. And just like that, the crying bride was replaced by a whirlwind of activity and best-man duties.

Being poked, prodded, and squeezed was not my idea of fun, which was ironic given my line of work. To my family, I ran a boutique IT company. What they didn't know was that boutique IT company only had one client and that was the sex club downstairs.

Even though I ran the club, it didn't mean what so many people assumed. But I didn't help with their assumptions. I had disdainful indifference down to a T at the club. As the boss decked out in leather, I didn't get very many people approaching me. I was always friendly, but standoffish. I didn't want people thinking they could come up to me and invite me to join in on their fun.

The club was an extension of me, in that I wanted a safe place for people to explore their fantasies. I wanted women to come, in more ways than one, without worrying about the outside world. I knew what it was like to try to explore without the safety and security I provided, and I shuddered thinking about how horribly that could have gone.

I thought of my club as a public service, while others thought of it as a seedy den of iniquity. Who says it couldn't be both? I loved my club, but the work didn't lend itself to frilly things.

The ceremony was everything I thought it would be, including Killian not wasting a minute hauling his bride off into a back room the minute the vows were finished. We made our way to the reception, basking in the glow of their happiness. The room was decked out with peony centerpieces on the five round tables clustered beside a small dance floor. Shades of purple were dotted throughout the room, including flower columns that ran along the perimeter. The walls were draped with fabric and candlelight bathed the entire room in a cozy, romantic feel.

But here on the dance floor with John, it was different. Transported back in time to our first dance. My dress is even a similar lilac color, but we were both much different now.

"You look beautiful tonight, Frankie. Have I told you that?" We rounded the dance floor after Killian insisted his best man and best woman join in on the dance. John stared into my eyes, my hand in his and my other on his shoulder.

"No. Thank you." Like our first dance John was as smooth as ever on the dance floor. People thought football players were awkward or uncoordinated. But that never made sense to me. John on the field back in high school was nothing less than fluid motion and athleticism. There wasn’t an awkward thing about him. His hand on the small of my back, the other clasped around my hand. I had to keep my wits about me.

I don't know if it was the drinks or maybe it was the song. Like a blast from the past, the words of a song from our dance back in high school came blaring through the speakers of the reception hall, filling the room with even more emotions than the ones already coursing through me. I glanced up at John, my eyes wide. Was he serious? A lazy smile spread across his face. He was screwing with me. Toying with me like he always did.

"I wondered if you'd still remember." He lifted his arm and spun me under it before adjusting his grip, placing his hand on my back again, this time a little higher, skimming the keyhole cut out in the back of my dress and landing directly on my skin. I sucked in a sharp breath, but he didn't take his hand away. Instead, he moved his fingers in a slow circle on my back.

"A girl doesn't forget her first dance," I said, ducking my head as the heat crept into my face, embarrassed at admitting it had been my first. I'd been to a dance before, but never even made it to the dance floor.

"You never told me that." He pulled back a little to look into my eyes.

"There's a lot I never told you, John."

He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, and then quickly snapped it shut. That song flowed into another song, and another, and before I knew it, we'd been out on the dance floor for longer than I probably danced in my entire life.

"I'm glad to see you two getting along," Killian said, sidling up next to us with Rachel.

"You two look great together," Rachel said, beaming. She had that Just-Married-To-The-Love-Of-My-Life Glow® about her.

Every time we tried to leave the dance floor, another blast from our past would come on, and we'd stay on for another song or Killian would be there to block us. It was like we were hostages to the music. The ache in my feet got worse, and I kicked off my shoes and leaned into John a bit more, and before I knew it we were pressed against one another, rocking along to the music.

My cheek almost flush with his, my arms around his neck. I breathed him in. He smelled like I remembered. That pepperminty smell I loved. It was so easy to be there in his arms. So easy to let myself forget, to just pretend I was the same Frankie from high school. Nothing had ever felt as good as his arms around me. And I hated that I still felt that way, even after all these years. As the song ended, I excused myself and headed into the bathroom. I needed to get ahold of myself.

I needed to get away. I needed to not fall into the same trap I’d fallen into in high school. I was so tempted to splash water on my face. But I knew I had no idea how to redo this makeup. I went with the water-on-the-inside-of-my-wrists trick to calm and cool me down. After a minute, my breathing and pulse slowed down. The racing panicking feeling ebbed away and I was left staring at myself in the mirror. It actually works, who knew?

Rachel flittered into the bathroom like she was walking on a cloud, and I couldn't hold back my smile. I would love this woman forever for however she got Killian to stop battling his demons. It hadn't been easy. Showing up at his apartment that looked like he'd gone all Howard Hughes and would start keeping his toenail clippings had been a little scary, but they got it worked out. Nothing short of miraculous.

"Hey, Frankie," she said, with her gaggle of bridesmaids filing in after her with Dahlia taking up the rear, rolling her eyes at them.

"Hey, Mrs. Thorne," I said, smiling.

"I know, how weird is that?" she asked, looking at herself in the mirror like she expected to look any differently.

"Definitely weird."

"Ladies, can we have a minute?" Rachel said, nodding to Dahlia who helped corral them back into the reception. The second the door closed behind them, she turned to me.

"They are driving me insane! Dahlia is acting as my bodyguard at this point. They are like little, catty baby chicks. At least you got to escape after we got our hair and makeup done and head over with John and Killian. If my mom hadn't made me invite them I never would have. I wanted a small wedding on a beach somewhere, but she would have lost her mind." She leaned her forehead against the cold marble of the bathroom wall.

"I can only imagine." The three hours of torture in the morning were more than enough for me.

"What's going on with you and Grim?" she asked, tilting her head and peeking over at me. I turned back to the mirror, fixing my almost non-existent make up. I swear I'd sweated most of it off out on the dance floor.

"I don't know what you mean. We're here for Killian." I grabbed one of the thick, folded hand towels and dried my hands.

"Killian has been very tight-lipped about the past between the two of you."

"Maybe it's because there's nothing to say. We went to one dance. We had one kiss. That's it." I shrugged and threw the towel into the basket beside the sinks. The dance wasn't the problem, the kiss wasn't even the problem—it was all the crap that happened after that was the problem.

"Hmm, you two looked awfully cozy out there on the dance floor."

"We're here for Killian. We've called a truce. We figured if Killian could call one with Rhys, then there was no reason we couldn't too."

"Good for you. I know it's something that's weighed on Killian. You know how he's Mr. Fixit and make amends now. It's kind of weird."

"I can imagine. You forget. I own Ace's. I saw you two that night in the bar. I almost banned his ass for the stunt he pulled."

"Well, I won't say I didn't enjoy his stunts, if that's what you want to call them." She gave me a knowing look.

“It certainly seems like it all worked out for the two of you. I don't know why he keeps pushing it with me and John. But he's never been the ‘let's patch things up kind of guy’. "

"Not at all," she said, chuckling. "But you two are his best friends. He doesn't want you fighting anymore."

"We're not. We shared a car on the way here. We even shared the suite last night and no blood was shed. She nibbled on her bottom lip, looking at me in the mirror. I whipped around.

"What's wrong?"

"I need a big favor. Like really big."

"What do you need?" I racked my brain to think of what might have her freaking out on what should be the most amazing night of her life.

"Can you hold my dress, so I can pee?" I backed up, banging my back against the counter and she burst out laughing. I relaxed and took a deep breath, cracking a smile. She was screwing with me.

"No, but really." Her face deadly serious. "There's like ten yards of fabric in this thing and I can't even see my feet. Can you hold my dress?" she asked, backing into the stall.

This weekend was not turning out anything like I expected. I sure hoped this was the last of the surprises.