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Chapter Thirty Three

Nick

"I think I'm gonna be sick."

A paper bag was shoved under my chin and up over my nose.

"Breathe."

I took the bag from Howie and sucked in until the bag crinkled all the way. I glanced up at him, watching as his brown Puerto Rican eyes narrowed.

"You were fine two days ago for the bachelor party. You're gonna be fine now."

I sucked in and out a few more times before lowering the bag. "The party was fine 'cause there was girls. Yes, Brian didn't get me a nudie girl, but she was still pretty nice lookin'. This is different because I'm at a friggin chateau and there's a priest out there and we have to rehearse for a wedding. My wedding. And it's tomorrow. How did it get to be tomorrow?"

"You set the date," Howie reminded me.

"Heather set the date."

"You agreed to it."

"I agree to a lot of things."

D snorted. His eyes flickered towards the door. "It's going to be fine. I saw a couple waiters bringing up a whole box of wine bottles from the cellar. You get through the rehearsal and make it to dinner and you'll be feeling fine."

I didn't answer. The reason I didn't answer was because I wasn't so sure. Ever since Heath got back from Kentucky and I got back from tour, we had been doing our weird little skirting thing. We never talked about anything important unless it was necessary.

Was that love?

I prayed if I made it through the wedding (and I was kinda sure I would) that I could come clean once we got to Maui. With all the guilt off my chest, maybe we really could do this whole 'Mr. and Mrs.' thing.

"Wine, you say?" I asked.

"Wine," D confirmed.

"Hey, the minister said he's ready when you are."

Bri poked his head in. I watched his pink tie flap in the air as he leaned forward. It was the color of Pepto Bismo.

"I think I have to take a crap," I lied. His eyes narrowed.

"Nick."

I rolled my eyes towards the ceiling and counted to three.

"Fine."

As a result of Heather's dad flying out of the tree house, he wasn't able to walk her down the aisle. After weeks of back-and-forth bickering, Heather had come to the realization that the next best thing was Brian.

Yes, Brian. My best man.

The guy who loved her more than I thought was possible.

"You can still back out," he added.

"He's not gonna back out. He's gonna back in."

J poked his head up over Brian's arm. He gave me a wink. "Kinda like what he wanted to do to that titty girl. She was nice, huh? Monkee liked the picture I took."

I groaned. Somehow I had downed one too many shots and kinda ended up on a table with the 'titty girl,' air smacking her ass like she was a horse.

"We are not talking about that," I warned. Bri's ears had turned pink. The girl had really wanted his attention, but Mr. Country Monk himself hadn't even made eye contact.

Even I was wondering when the last time he got laid was. Especially since I now knew he hadn't slept with Heather.

He would never know what he was missing.

With that thought, I stood up, straightening my tie.

"Okay," I said, thoughts of Heather walking down the aisle in her sexy little rehearsal sundress playing through my mind. "I can do this."

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Heather

"You still have almost a whole twenty four hours."

"Shut up."

"Heath, I know Brian's even tried to talk you out of it. He told me that he talked to you at the hospital and--"

"Chris."

My brother looked at me, frustration written all over his face. "You're giving me a million gray hairs Heath. You don't belong with Nick Carter."

I turned around and took my practice bouquet from one of my bridesmaids. Every single one of the girls in my wedding party were old high school friends. I couldn't be sure if they were really here for me or whether they were there just to say they were in Nick Carter's wedding. Either way, Georgia grinned as the bouquet left her grasp.

Somehow, six weeks had sped by like a freight train. Between last revisions on my book and tying up all the wedding details, hours had become seconds, seconds had become nonexistant. I ran my hand down my sundress and shivered.

It was sad (extremely sad, really), but I had given up my bachelorette party to finish my book. I don't know how long I sat staring at the screen. I had saved the dedication until last; it was the hardest part of the whole book. I had almost decided not to do one at all, but finally I had hit the send button on my e-mail and it was a done deal.

The whole world would soon know that I owed my entire book to Brian. I couldn't make it anymore clear. I had memorized the thirteen words I had put on the dedication page. Bri, You're my inspiration. Without you, I'd be nothing. I love you - Heather.

"Are you ready?"

Chris was still scowling as Brian walked up. His tie was horrendous, but it only made me love him more. The aftershave he was wearing penetrated deep into my abdomen, stirring up feelings I knew should have been kept at bay until the honeymoon...

The honeymoon. Oh, lord.

"Is Nick ready?" I asked.

Bri glanced over at Chris. Then he looked at the ceiling. Finally, he looked at me.

"How couldn't he be? You look beautiful. And this is just the rehearsal."

I smiled, his words touching me more than they should have. "Thank you. You look amazing too. I couldn't ask for a better best man."

He offered his arm and I slid mine through his. I was surprised at the tight grip he held me at.

"Heather Anne--" Chris threatened.

"You need to be up there with the rest of the penguins," I said coldly. I pressed the flowers against my breast. I hated the red roses, but I chose to ignore them.

I chose to ignore anything that was going wrong (which was pretty much the whole thing). I really just wanted to get the rehearsal over and drink some wine.

Wine made everything better.

"What song are you and Nick dancing to?" Bri whispered.

"Some Journey song," I whispered back.

"You don't know the title? Isn't it your song?"

"We never had a song. Nick just wanted to jam to Journey," I whispered back.

Call me crazy, but I thought Brian growled even as he poked his head out of the doorway and waved up towards the front of the room. The music began and I watched my bridesmaids leave one by one. Finally, only Sandra, my maid of honor, was left. She looked at me and I swear even she shook her head.

Then she was gone.

"What's for dinner tonight?" Bri asked. We hadn't talked as much as we were at that moment since the tense exchange by the soda machine.

"Fried chicken."

"Good," he said simply. "I need to gnaw on something."

It was our cue and suddenly I couldn't move. I need to GNAW on something. My brain bogged down and I was suddenly imagining what it would be like for him to gnaw on me. My mouth fell open and I was pretty sure I had started to salivate. God, I was drooling like...like...Nick.

"Kiddo, it's our cue."

He jiggled my arm and I caught my bouquet just before I dropped it. I stared out the white silk runner, already in place for the next day, and almost vomited.

He doesn't want you, the little voice in my head reminded me. All images of gnawing washed away.

"Okay," I said shakily. "Let's get the show on the road."

"I'm starving...and thirsty."

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Brian

I’ve never seen people drink wine so quickly. Nick was on his third glass before the plates had even been passed around and Heather was at least one deep, but she had snuck at least three sips off mine while waiting for her second glass to come. I was shaking to hard to hold the damn glass, so it didn’t bother me that she was drinking all my wine. Chris was glowering across the table at Nick. Silverware clinked and clanked and made ridiculous amounts of noise for a group of people who were eating the kind of chicken you hold with your fingers.

The rehearsal had gone terribly. Nick was picking at the flower he had pinned to his lapel and looking sick while Chris glared at his back like he wanted to shove daggers through it. I had almost tripped on the silky runner that split the pews, and then not really wanting to let go of Heather’s arm when we reached the pulpit, I’d almost tripped her, too. Nick had stammered over the I do part and Heather had been staring into space when her turn came.

Now we were at least being handed goblets of alcohol to ease the tension.

Then it was speech time.

Heather’s maid of honor fumbled her way through some stories from the Heather Archives of History, stuff that happened in high school. It was like reading the back pages of a freaking yearbook, and I tuned it out, sipping my wine and picking at the remnants of a roll on my plate. Until I heard my name, that is.

“I remember when Brian moved to Florida,” the girl giggled, “And Heather vowed she would save her money from working at Long John Silver’s and go move in with him because she swore one day they’d get married…” She raised her glass, “Who knew she would end up with his best friend?”

I looked at Heather. Her face was scarlet.

The girl sat down.

My throat burned.

Then Chris stood up. Chris, by default, had ended up being Nick’s best man now that I was out of the job. He cleared his throat and lifted his glass. He gave me and Heather the slightest look of apology, then said, in a loud, clear voice… “Let’s toast the groom, Nick Carter, who’s managed to single handedly blind my sister to any form of sanity.”

Nick looked up, uncomfortable expressions crossing his face.

“Yeah, let’s all cheer on Nick,” Chris continued, “Who’s only here because the titty bar down the street doesn’t open until nine.”

A hush fell over the room.

“Chris,” I hissed under my breath, “This isn’t the place.”

Chris laughed. Maybe he’d had too much wine. I don’t know. With Chris, he could’ve been thinking completely coherently. He looked at me. “And let’s toast Brian, who hasn’t had the balls to tell my sister that he’s in love with her.” He threw back the wine.

“Christopher,” snapped Marietta.

Chris grinned, “Shh, mom, I’m not done my speech yet.” He looked at Heather, “And let’s toast my sister, who is so busy writing her stupid romance novels that she doesn’t see the fucking romance that’s right in front of her. Or beside her. To her right.”

Heather glanced at me. Tears in her eyes. She stood up, “You’re such a jerk,” she said to Chris bitterly, and she ran out of the room.

Nick was looking like he was about to throw up.

But he didn’t stand up. He didn’t go after Heather, he didn’t yell at Chris. Nothing. He just sat there looking defeated.

Fine then.

“Chris,” I said, “You asshole, you couldn’t do this somewhere else?”

“Time is of the essence.” He hiccupped.

I bolted out of the room.