Chapter 13
Thirteen
Ginny
After spending most of the day in and out of bridal shops, we have three dresses ordered—one for Sadie, one for Tarryn, and one for me.
When we finally get back to the hotel, my cheeks hurt from smiling, and my head is pounding from too much caffeine and too many opinions.
There’s only so much tulle a girl can take in one day.
Tarryn stretches like a cat the second the elevator doors close behind us. “I need a hot bath, a bottle of wine, and a nap. I didn’t sleep at all last night.”
Sadie yawns behind her hand. “I’m crashing too, and Beckett and I have dinner plans with one of his medical school friends.”
They’re already halfway into planning tomorrow’s boutique list and arguing about napkin colors again by the time we reach our room.
“Do you have a preference?” Tarryn points to the two queen-size beds, and I shake my head.
She opens her bag and brings out her noise-canceling headphones and her sleep mask. “Don’t worry about me. I can sleep through anything.”
She lies down, and I’m stuck trying to figure out what I want to do. Though it’s probably the safest place for me, I don’t want to stay in the room.
I grab my key card and scoot out the door. I’ve always loved the hotel bar here. They make my favorite gin and tonic. It’s purple.
Downstairs, Prophecy is dim and cozy, all low lighting and velvet booths—the kind of place where people keep their voices low and their distance respectable. The bartender doesn’t ask questions.
Perfect.
Exactly what I need.
I slide into a booth in the back corner, as far from the main area as I can get without actually hiding behind the liquor shelf. The velvet upholstery sinks beneath me as I settle in and tug my sweater around my ribs like armor. I let out a long breath.
For a full minute, I don’t move. I just sit.
I let the low hum of conversation wash over me, the soft clink of glassware, the occasional rustle of a cocktail napkin or a laugh from another booth.
No more dresses, no more decisions. Just ice in a glass and a quiet stretch of space that’s all mine.
I pull out my phone and stare at Ryker’s name, thumb hovering.
I told him we’d found dresses earlier after he sent a picture of him and Beckett standing with a medical school friend and his brother.
I tap out a message.
Me: At the bar in the hotel—Prophecy. Tarryn’s sleeping.
Three dots appear almost instantly, then vanish.
Then reappear.
Then vanish again.
Before the message comes through, the server sets a tall glass in front of me. An Empress gin and tonic, extra lime. Clean, crisp, and exactly the way I ordered it.
I take a long sip, savoring the cold bite and the way it spreads through my body like a slow exhale.
“Ginny?”
I freeze. The voice is familiar—and one I never wanted to hear again. I look up, and there she is.
Jill.
Of course.
Perfect hair, glossy and curled just enough to look effortless. Perfect skin, lightly bronzed and not a pore in sight. Perfect teeth in that perfect smile that once made me feel lucky to be her friend.
And she proudly doesn’t work weekends, which made me think it was safe to come down here. My stomach nosedives, taking the rest of me with it. Every muscle locks, fight or flight thrumming in my blood.
“Wow, it is you!” she says like she’s spotted me at a farmer’s market and not blindsided me in the place I came to be alone. She walks over without hesitation, all sunshine and fake sincerity, and plants a manicured hand on the edge of my table like we’re catching up after yoga and brunch.
I sit up straighter, my heart pounding behind my ribs. “Jill.”
She has the audacity to look genuinely happy to see me. “Oh my God, you look amazing. I’ve been meaning to reach out again. I know I already apologized, but… Seriously, I never meant for things to happen that way.”
Sure you didn’t. You just happened to fall on top of my fiancé naked and repeatedly.
“I was promoted to head of sales, and I’m working a party this evening,” she says like we’re old friends bumping into each other on vacation.
I don’t respond. I don’t trust myself to.
“What brings you to the Rosewood?” she asks brightly.
I open my mouth, trying to keep my tone neutral. “I’m here wedding dress shopping—”
But I don’t get to finish.
Because a warm presence slides into the booth across from me, calm and confident, his cologne familiar and grounding.
Ryker.
He doesn’t say anything. Just settles in, one arm draping across the back of the booth. Like he’s been here the whole time.
And for a second, I’m stunned into silence because he came. Right now, that feels like the most important thing in the world.
I blink, startled and weirdly relieved. “Hey.”
He nods in greeting, then turns his head toward Jill. “Hi there.”
She falters for a half-second, clearly not expecting anyone to join me, let alone someone like him. Ryker’s presence is the kind that fills a room. Strong jaw, broad shoulders, voice like low thunder when he speaks.
“Oh,” I say quickly, pushing past the lump in my throat. “Ryker, this is Jill. Jill, this is Ryker Paradise.”
Jill’s perfectly sculpted brows lift, her eyes narrowing with interest. “Paradise? Like those Paradises?”
He tilts his head, lips curving in a slow, almost teasing smile. “Probably.”
Her expression shifts instantly from surprise to recognition to something resembling approval. And something else. Calculation, perhaps. Can she fall on him over and over too?
She turns back to me with a little gleam in her eye, like we’re sharing some delicious secret. “I’m so happy for you. Engaged already? Wow. That was fast.”
My lips part, confusion flickering. “What?”
She waves a hand between Ryker and me like she’s connecting dots that don’t exist. “You two. I just assumed since you’re wedding dress shopping…”
I freeze. My mind races for a reply, something to defuse the implication without giving her more power. But before I can open my mouth, Ryker’s voice slides across the table.
“She’s got that whole ethereal-glow thing going on,” he says. “Hard not to notice.”
“I just went shopping myself.” Jill casually extends her hand, and there it is, the ring Jeremy gave me. The one I hurled at him when I caught them together.
“You and Jeremy?” I croak.
“Yes. We haven’t set a date yet, but he kept asking, so I finally gave in.”
“Congratulations.”
“You better protect yourself,” Ryker says, looking right at her. “Jeremy has a habit of sleeping with his fiancée’s best friends.”
Jill stiffens like she’s been slapped.
Her mouth falls open, and I turn to her with a saccharine-sweet smile.
Then Ryker reaches across the table, lacing his fingers with mine. His thumb strokes the back of my hand and just like that, I feel anchored. I glance at him and smile, the real kind, full of quiet gratitude. I’m so damn glad he’s here with me.
Recovering, Jill clears her throat and pastes on a smile. “Well, I’m sure you’re over all that.” Her gaze moves back to Ryker, sharpening like a hawk’s. “I mean, Jeremy and I— We’re in love.”
Ryker doesn’t react. Doesn’t even blink.
I lift my glass and offer the most hollow toast of my life. “Congratulations,” I say. Calm. Neutral. Perfectly polite. Because the last thing I’ll give her is the satisfaction of knowing she still gets under my skin.
Jill takes a small breath and straightens her shoulders, trying to reclaim the moment. “Drinks are on me,” she announces like she’s doing us a favor. “You look like you’re a Johnny Walker Blue man. Neat, right?”
Ryker lifts a brow, intrigued. “That sounds good.”
Jill always knew everyone’s drink. Always knew how to make people feel seen. It was quite a gift before she used that talent like a weapon.
She winks like it’s a compliment. “I thought so.”
She waves and struts over to the bar in heels that probably cost more than my half of the rent when Jeremy and I lived together. I watch her speak to the bartender, still smiling like she won something. Then she looks over her shoulder and waves one last time.
Then finally, mercifully, she’s gone.
I exhale slowly, sinking into the booth like someone just cut the tension wire running down my back.
Ryker looks at me. “You okay?”
The server delivers Ryker’s drink.
I nod. “Now I am.”
Ryker raises his glass to me, his eyes glittering with mischief. “That was fun.”
I glare at him, though it’s half-hearted at best. “You just told my ex-best friend we were engaged.”
He shrugs, entirely unbothered. “Well, she slept with your fiancé. I figured we were making up stories now.”
I press my fingers to my temples and groan.
“You’re impossible.” Then I laugh. I can’t help it.
Because that felt a little bit like winning.
It didn’t erase the betrayal or stitch my dignity back together, but it gave me a moment.
A small, delicious taste of payback. And Ryker handed it to me like a gift with a smirk and a shot of top-shelf whiskey.
Ryker swirls the Johnny Walker Blue in his glass, slow and deliberate, eyes on me over the rim. That damn panty-melting smirk is back, full force, laced with trouble.
Then he puts his elbows on the table. “So,” he says, “if you really want to get even, we could have wild, crazy sex tonight. You know, really sell the fake fiancé story.”
I bark out a laugh, though my pulse skips at the idea. It’s all banter. All bravado. Except that it’s not.
“Is that your idea of support?” I ask, trying for sarcasm, but my voice dips a little.
He shrugs, lazy and self-assured. “Just being a team player.”
I tilt my head, studying him. “You think that would help me work through my unresolved emotional trauma?”
He grins. “Absolutely. I have very therapeutic skills. Highly recommended.”
I shake my head and pretend to be unimpressed, but my lips betray me. They’re already curving. I can feel the tension slipping off my shoulders, replaced with something else. Something electric.
The kind of energy that comes before a kiss that changes things.
“Well then…” I swirl the lime in my drink. “We’ll see if you can talk me into it.”
His smile shifts, goes from cocky to something darker. Hungrier. “Challenge accepted.”
The air between us thickens, and everything else fades—the buzz of the bar, even the sting of old betrayal. All I feel is him. The way his gaze anchors mine. The way his presence settles into me like gravity. Like he’s not just sitting across from me, he’s already in my blood.
Forget Jill. Forget Jeremy. And forget everything that came before this moment.
Tonight, I’m all about Ryker Paradise. Because fake fiancé or not, he’s the only thing going for me in this mess of a weekend.