The Resurrection of Wildflowers (Wildflower #2)(73)

I understand where she’s coming from. If things were reversed, I have no doubt I’d be asking her the same question.

“Sure,” I agree, “technically things are moving quickly, but you have to remember I loved him in secret for almost an entire year, and then I spent six years without him. In many ways, it’s been too long and we’re not rushing at all.”

“When you put it like that, I understand.” She looks down at the tampons on the counter. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. You look amazing by the way.”

She’s dressed in a pale pink sequined mini dress that makes her already golden skin glow even more. Her dark brown hair is slicked back in a sleek low bun at the nape of her neck.

“Thank you.” She strikes a pose, adjusting the sash around her body that says BRIDE across it. “I’ll leave you to your business. Let me know when you’re done. I’m ready to get my dance on.”





I’ve had a few drinks and find myself out on the dancefloor with all the other girls tonight. It feels nice to let go after feeling so heartbroken. Lauren takes my hands, spinning us in a circle. She’s definitely drunk but having a blast. A couple of guys have been bold enough to hit on her despite her bride sash, maybe thinking she wants one last hook up before the big day, but she was quick to send them on their way.

I’m still not sure why she wanted to come to Vegas other than maybe the shows and dancing, but we could’ve done basically the same thing in Manhattan. Sometimes it gives me a headache trying to get inside her brain.

The music changes and I’m not feeling the song, so I head back to the bar, careful to let the girls know where I’m going first. Stranger danger is a real thing no matter how old you are—at least if you’re female. I don’t think men really have to worry about that kind of thing. At least not the way we do.

I order my drink and wait, leaning against the bar.

“Hey,” a deep voice says to my right.

I turn, making eye contact with a hot guy. He’s probably a few years younger than me, maybe twenty-two, with closely cropped brown hair and striking green eyes. With sharp cheekbones he looks like he could be a model.

“Hi,” I say, practically yelling to be heard above the music.

“I’m Dylan,” he says.

“Salem.”

“Salem,” he repeats, licking his lips. He looks me over, standing there in my silky orange dress. It covers more than probably anyone else’s dress in this club, only showing a hint of cleavage and ending right at my knees. But the way he’s looking at me makes me think I’m very much naked in his eyes. “Like the Salem Witch Trials?”

“The very one.” I slide some cash to the bartender, taking my drink.

“I was going to pay for your drink,” Dylan says with a pout.

“That’s okay. I’m taken.” I hold up my ring finger.

His smile grows, and he looks a tad high on something. I probably don’t want to know what.

“I don’t care. We can still have fun. Your man doesn’t have to know.”

“That’s okay.”

“Oh, come on,” he grabs my wrist, “don’t leave so soon.”

“I’m okay, really.” I try to move away but his hold tightens. “Let go.”

“Fuck you.” He releases me, moving on to another woman to annoy.

Rolling my eyes, I carry my drink back to the section where a few of the girls are sitting. Lauren is still out on the dancefloor along with Kelsey.

Sabrina eyes my drink. “Ooh, what’s that? It looks yummy.”

“I honestly don’t know,” I admit, stirring my drink up. “I just picked something random.”

She stands, tugging down her dress. “I’m going to go get another. Be right back.”

I sip happily at my drink, but my mood is soured when Sabrina returns with Dylan.

“This is Dylan,” she introduces him to us. “We’re going to dance. Do you mind holding this for me?” She doesn’t wait for a response, just shoves the drink at me. I don’t complain, because I plan on staying right here anyway.

Dylan winks at me before she pulls him into the crowd. I flash my engagement ring again. I can’t believe this dude actually thinks I care.

Checking my phone, I frown when I see nothing from Thayer.

I shouldn’t text him, besides it’s probably like … I try to do the math in my head of what time it is back home. I can’t seem to figure it out, so I text anyway.

Me: I miff zoo

Me: Huh

Me: Mizz too

Me: I MISS YOU

Me: R u tripping?

Me: Stripping?

Me: Zipping?

Me: Sleeping?

My phone rings in my hand and I jump like I’ve been scalded. Thayer’s name lights up in the glow of the screen like a beacon.

“Hi,” I answer.

“Are you drunk?” He doesn’t sound accusatory, only amused.

“Yes,” I hiccup. “I started my period tonight, so I’m definitely not pregnant. I didn’t drink at all yesterday, just in case.” My lower lip trembles with the threat of tears. “I had to tell Lauren we’re trying. I didn’t have tampons, so I had to borrow some and I—”