Baiting the Maid of Honor (Wedding Dare #2)(43)

Julie had no idea how long she stood there, watching the proceedings without actually seeing them. After catching one or two worried glances in her direction, she’d zoned out. Numbed by grief and confusion over too many feelings at once. She’d spent too long fixing everyone else. Now she had no idea how to fix herself.

Angry whispering, coming from Christine and Tyler, snapped her out of her daze. Swallowing her emotions, she started forward, intent on mediating the argument before it disrupted the lesson. Kady beat her to it. She pulled away from Colton with an irritated groan. Her arms encompassed the entire bridal party as she yelled, “What the hell is wrong with everyone?”

No one answered. With a muffled scream, Kady spun on her heel and slammed out of the ballroom, Sophie and a worried-looking Colton in her wake. Everyone stared at one another for a moment, then one by one began to disperse, beginning with an all-too-happy-to-bail Regan. Francois threw up his hands, muttering in French, and began to storm off. Julie, watching the disaster unfold with dawning horror, sprang into motion. She couldn’t let some lover’s spat ruin her best friends nuptials.

“Wait. We’re not finished, you guys. You need to know this dance for the reception.” No one paid her any attention, all their focuses elsewhere. Julie targeted the instructor. “Francois—”

“Monsieur,” he corrected her.

“Monsieur, please. Give me five minutes to straighten this out. I’ll—”

He shook his head in disgust. “They are unteachable.”

Julie was prepared to bribe him if necessary, but the instructor stomped out of the room before she could even open her mouth. One by one, everyone followed, some murmuring heartfelt apologies to her as they went. When she stood alone in the giant ballroom, she sank to the floor like a puppet.

Done. She was done. Every ounce of strain rushed to the fore until it felt like she was drowning. No matter how hard she tried, her efforts were never enough. Everyone could dance the Macarena at the reception for all she cared. If someone rustled up a limbo stick, she wouldn’t even bat an eyelash. Obviously everyone would prefer that to a waltz. She flat-out didn’t give a hoot anymore. What the hell was the point? She would never be good enough. Never be Serena.

I guess everyone is just going to have to settle for Julie. She hurled the clipboard across the room and took out a potted plant. “Damnitshitheadbastardmotherf*cker!”

…

Reed sat at the hotel bar, a glass of whiskey untouched in front of him. Picking it up and bringing it to his lips seemed like too much of an effort. If he moved any part of himself, the numbness he’d managed to achieve would dissipate and the feelings would rush back in and overwhelm him. He’d missed the damn dance rehearsal. Completely blown it off and now he felt a dull, permeating sickness thinking of the implications of that. If he’d wanted to fix things with Julie, he’d just gone and royally f*cked himself.

One minute, he’d been standing in his room ready to go, wearing a suit and everything. Might have even psyched himself up for a dance or two. Then he’d caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the way out. The next thing he knew, he was ordering a double whiskey, neat. One-Eyed Jack, no less, as if irony could be appreciated when he felt like he’d been run over by a semi truck. That suited man in the mirror wasn’t him. It would never be him. Despite what Colton believed, he couldn’t make a girl like Julie happy. She’d been right, back in the woods. He wasn’t capable of more. Thanks to his past, he had no example to go on, either. Knowing her, she would work double time trying to give them a fighting chance. Watching her spin her wheels would make him miserable when nothing she did would be effective anyway.

He would be her biggest failure.

As a child, he’d seen firsthand what a damaged man could do to a woman. He’d watched his mother fade into nothing with each passing day at the abusive hands of his father. Back then, he’d been too young to do anything about it. He had no choice but to do something about it now. To let go of this ridiculous idea that Julie belonged to him and walk away. Ensure she didn’t meet the same fate as his mother and leave her intact. Because God knew he was damaged—every scar on his body told that tale—while Julie went around doling out happiness to everyone she crossed paths with. If he dulled that part of her, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Damn it, why hadn’t he done this before he let himself consider the idea of keeping her? How could he bear it?

A perfectly manicured hand slapped down on the bar in front of him, rattling the cage he’d built around himself.

“Hey. Asshole.”

He looked up into the face of one truly pissed-off Regan. Good, he’d love a fight. Anything to take away this horrible dread he couldn’t shake. He turned in his stool and gave her an imposing look he usually reserved for his team. “Come again?”

Regan didn’t so much as blink. “Oh, I think you heard me.”

“No shit. I’m giving you a chance to rephrase.”

She looked disgusted with him. Join the club. “You know, I really misjudged you, Reed. And I don’t misjudge people. Ever.” A glance toward the door. “Although apparently it’s a week for firsts.”

“Is there a point to this?”

“There’s always a point when I’m talking.” She actually poked him in the chest. “That first night, I saw something in you I thought would be good for my friend. I trusted my gut and switched that room key. You really let me down. Worse, you let the most genuine woman either one of us knows down.”