Five minutes passed with no word. She figured he was distracted and hadn’t looked at his phone, and wondered what, exactly, the groom, Kevin Sulman, and his friends had devised for the male cohort’s entertainment that had her husband so transfixed. Strippers, probably, though Sulman had claimed to his bride-to-be that he was skipping the tradition. Janie had assured him she would follow suit. So much for that.
And if there were strippers, Josh was a healthy young man, and would certainly be looking. Aubrey tamped down the spurt of anger. He would look, but he wouldn’t touch. He’d promised. And she trusted him.
She gathered her purse and phone to leave when a waiter came through from the back of the bar with a tray balanced on his hand. Centered perfectly was a single highball of clear liquid, garnished with a slice of lime. He caught her eye, made a beeline to her seat, set the drink on the bar in front of her with a smile, then turned with a flourish and disappeared back the way he’d come. She hadn’t even had time to grab her wallet from her bag.
She sniffed the drink, and a wide smile broke over her face—Tanqueray and tonic, her favorite. Josh was such a silly romantic. She loved that about him the most. He was surprising, and fun, and smart and sexy and wonderful, but under all of that ran a streak of romanticism that would make Eros proud.
Like sending a gin and tonic to her in the middle of a boring party. More than a drink. A promise.
She settled back onto the bar stool to wait for him, expecting him to appear from around the corner with a sly grin on his face, tickled to death that he’d surprised her. Texted him again—You are the best husband EVAH!—and waited.
Aubrey sipped the drink and let the cool, piney taste coat the back of her throat, once again considering how incredibly lucky she was. Having money would be nice, but it couldn’t buy her the love of a good man, or friendship, or the kind of happy, settled contentment she’d always felt when she thought of her husband—the things she valued most in this world.
She thought back to their own wedding three years earlier, a quiet, subdued affair but, in her mind, much more fun. They’d both been excited, a little nervous. Josh’s hands had shaken when he put the ring on her finger, but his voice never wavered as he said his vows. She didn’t remember all the details, but would never forget looking into his denim-blue eyes as he said the words that would bind them together forever. She’d gotten goose bumps, so strong was his intensity, and she knew he meant every word down to his bones.
She glanced at her watch. She’d sent the first text at 9:45 p.m. It was now almost 10:15. Her drink was three-quarters gone. She toyed with the lime on the edge of the glass. Where was he?
She had a nice little debate with herself. She was tired. Sore and bruised from the accident. The drink had made her sleepy, and they had a beautiful king-size bed waiting upstairs. Share a hot bath, maybe get crazy and raid the minibar, definitely break in the bed—these things sounded like heaven. So if he wasn’t going to come to her, the least she could do was go to him.
She finished the drink, wound her way through the acreage of the hotel to the concierge desk, and asked where the Sulman party was taking place. The concierge didn’t hesitate, told her the room number immediately, which gave Aubrey pause. Did he think she was part of the entertainment? Her dress wasn’t that revealing, was it?
She turned her back and started toward the bachelor party. To be fair—she was always fair with him—she texted Josh, THX for the drink. I’m coming to get you, we have things to do upstairs, ended with a smiley face.
She got lost immediately. The hotel was so big that she didn’t know how the people who worked there found their way around. Fifteen minutes passed, twenty. She was hopelessly lost. Finally, a man dressed in the pink-and-gold livery of the hotel appeared around a corner. She flagged him down, and he showed her to one of the little golf carts that buzzed around the site. “I’ll take you. Hop in. It’s on the other side of the property. A two-minute ride.”
She got into the cart, wondered if this qualified as getting in the car with a stranger. It was chilly; the sun had long since disappeared, and the early spring evening fought with the last vestiges of winter for control.
“Where’re you from?”
Aubrey started. “Oh. I’m local. We’re here for a wedding. My husband and I, that is.”
He smiled. “No worries. We see lots of people like you here.”
Aubrey’s back stiffened. The damn dress. She did look like a stripper. Or a swinger, or something else equally unsavory.
The man didn’t say anything more, just pulled up to a pink-and-gold building with Lounge written on the doors.
“Here you go, ma’am.”
He waited, and she opened her purse and fished out a dollar. He took the money with a smile and buzzed off, leaving her standing alone in the dark.
The door to the lounge sprang opened, and one of Josh’s best friends, Arlo Tonturian, stumbled out. His eyes were nearly crossed, but he recognized Aubrey.