Best Man with Benefits (Wedding Dare, #4, McCade Brothers, #3)(55)
A limo transported them to the reception, and she hoped the festive atmosphere in the car covered any undercurrents of tension between her and Logan. His stare tugged at her, but she resisted the pull and steadfastly concentrated on a conversation between Christine and Regan about the most atrocious bridesmaid’s dresses they’d ever been obligated to wear.
Thankfully, the wedding party table at the reception was set up “last supper” style, with Kady and Colt seated at the center, best man on Kady’s other side, maid of honor flanking Colt. The other members of the wedding party sat boy-girl down either side, which put many, many bodies between her and Logan. He wasn’t in her line of vision, but unfortunately, out of sight didn’t mean out of mind. Especially not when he got up and headed her way. Regan walked toward him and the two stopped behind the table to chat.
She ordered herself to ignore them, but couldn’t seem to stop sneaking a glimpse from beneath her lashes. Regan leaned close as they spoke, resting her hand on his arm. She smiled, and must have said something funny or flirtatious, because Logan blushed. The verbal foreplay continued but Sophie decided she’d seen enough. Sitting there, docile and silent, while waves of jealousy and misery battered her was too much to ask of herself.
She pushed her chair back and stood, searching the room for a safe place to lose what little dinner she’d managed to choke down.
A sixty-something woman toting as many extra pounds and wearing a truly horrid brown dress waddled into the reception room from a hallway and Sophie had two thoughts. That’s you in forty years, and, more immediately relevant, that’s the way to the restroom. She hurried down the hall and pushed through the door with the icon of a woman on the front.
Inside the ladies’ room she sank down into one of the lounge chairs and, because the sting of salt became too strong to blink back, she closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to her knees. Keep it together just a little longer. A couple toasts. Some dancing. A bouquet toss. You can do it.
Not like she had any choice. Staying in the ladies’ room wasn’t an option. Someone would come in eventually, and see her curled into her protective ball, nursing her wounds. There was something unbearably pitiful about a bridesmaid sitting alone in a restroom, crying. Nobody wanted to be that girl, including her.
She got up, walked to the mirror, and used tissues to dry her tears. Then she drew in a deep, stabilizing breath, released it slowly, and took stock. Surprisingly, the woman staring back at her looked calm and self-possessed. Only her overbright eyes hinted at any distress, but they also gleamed with determination. Maybe she wasn’t quite the “New Sophie” she’d set her sights on becoming, but she wasn’t “Old Sophie,” either. Which brought up the question of exactly what she was, but she could stand there all day and never figure out the answer, so she tossed her handful of crumpled tissues into the wastebasket and headed to the door…and almost got knocked out when Regan came barreling in.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” the tall brunette said.
“That’s okay.” She retreated into the lounge again. “I really didn’t want to leave the restroom anyway.”
“What’s going on? Why aren’t you out there with your guy?”
“Logan’s hardly mine.” Sophie shifted, toying with the edge of her dress. “He was only spending time with me as a favor to Colton. The good news, for you, is he’s no longer stuck entertaining the groom’s shy little sister. He’s all yours. Go for it.”
Regan blinked. “I hate to be the one to break it to you, but a man doesn’t ask his best friend to sleep with his baby sister.”
“But—”
“And, seriously, that scorching kiss I got an eyeful of this morning when I walked by your room was nobody’s version of a favor. No one can fake chemistry like that.”
Sophie frowned. “I don’t know…”
“Yeah, you do. Deep down, a girl always knows.”
Did she? She knew what she’d overheard this morning. Had she misinterpreted? Was she misjudging Logan’s motives because of her own insecurities?
“Look, sweetie,” Regan went on. “That man is crazy about you. Take off the underdog cape you wear around like a security blanket, because it doesn’t fit at all. You caught Logan’s eye all on your own, and now you need to decide if you want to keep it. But if you ask me, only an idiot would let him get away just because the idea of being with him is scary. I don’t know you very well, but you don’t strike me as an idiot. Don’t prove me wrong.” She stepped back and held open the door.
Sophie stared up at her, at a loss for words. If Regan was playing some kind of game with her, she wasn’t smart enough to figure it out. She shook her head and started out the door, then paused and looked at Regan. “You coming?”
“I’ll be along.”
For once in probably her entire life, Regan didn’t look too good. Her face was pale. She’d chewed all her lipstick off and didn’t seem to care. “Are you okay?”
Regan raised her chin and smiled. “Always.”
Sophie wasn’t so sure, but she nodded and left the restroom. Dinner was winding down when she walked back into the main room—just in time to see Logan take the microphone and call for quiet. Perfect timing. Why not be standing in the middle of the room during the best man toast?