But now, she was preparing herself for her non-wedding reception—no, she refused to use the word “wedding” in this event any longer. This was officially called the Bellini Party now.
She sighed and thought of all the sympathetic looks she was going to get tonight, and how now she’d forever be known as “the bride who basically got left at the altar.”
Ugh.
Not that she was concerned too much about that of course. She was a Bellini, and Bellinis were made of strong stock. Her parents had always taught her to be resilient and courageous and never hide from anything.
Tonight she would embrace that wholeheartedly.
She was a fierce, capable woman. She would weather this and come out stronger on the other side.
Her gaze caught the wedding dress again. Without thought, she pulled off her robe and grabbed the dress off the hanger, knowing she shouldn’t, but unable to stop herself. She slipped into the dress, zipped it up as far as she could without help, then slid into the beautiful sparkly shoes she’d bought to go with it. She’d never wear these shoes, either.
She turned and looked at herself in the mirror.
She hadn’t had her hair done in the style she’d rehearsed with her hair stylist. She’d planned on a partial updo, with one lock cascading down her shoulder. She wouldn’t wear her mother’s necklace or her grandmother’s earrings. She wouldn’t face Owen and say the vows she’d written. They were damn good vows, too. She’d taken weeks to write them. Had Owen even bothered to write vows?
Probably not. How long had he known he was going to bail? Days? Weeks?
“Why didn’t you talk to me, Owen?” she said to her reflection. “Why didn’t you tell me you were so unhappy?”
How could she have missed the signs? She was good at reading people.
Apparently, she wasn’t as good as she thought. Because she’d clearly missed one big whopper of a sign in her fiancé.
She inhaled a shaky breath and reached up to calm her erratic heartbeat.
Okay, so tonight she’d be brave and fierce. But right now her heart was broken.
She sank onto the edge of her bed, staring down at her hand, where her sparkling engagement ring mocked her. She pulled the ring off and set it on her nightstand, rubbing the spot where her finger felt suddenly so naked, so exposed and vulnerable.
She tried to push the tears back, but couldn’t, so she allowed them to fall and her heart to open up to all the emotion she’d held inside since she’d first read that e-mail.
Oh, this hurt.
She didn’t think she could feel this much pain, but as she lay on the bed and curled up into a ball, she grabbed Mr. Brown, the teddy bear that had always given her comfort when she was a little girl. She wrapped her arms around him and wished for Mr. Brown to ease her pain.
Not even Mr. Brown could make her feel better. She had thought she could cry it out for a few minutes and be done, but once the waterworks started she couldn’t hold back the floodgates.
This really sucked.
Brenna came in and smoothed her hand over her brow, then laid down next to her, spooning her.
“You have to let it out, honey,” Brenna said. “When a man hurts you like that, the only thing you can do is cry.”
“I don’t want to cry over him,” she managed in between sobs.
“I know.” Brenna smoothed her hand over her hair. “But once you cry all these tears over how much he hurt you, you never have to cry another one over him again.”
She sniffed. “That sounds okay.”
So Brenna held her and Erin cried. Then Honor came in and climbed onto the bed and held her, too. And then Mom came in and laid Erin’s head in her lap and wiped her tears and let her blow her nose, and she cried some more until she gave herself a headache. Until she had no more tears to shed. Not today, anyway.
“Okay, enough. I’m done.” She sat up and her sisters slid off the bed. She took the dress and shoes off and Brenna and her mom put them away. That felt a little bit like closure, anyway. And maybe the crying had helped to release some of the pain.
Honor left the room and came back with some iced tea for all of them. Erin took several long swallows, feeling dehydrated from all the tears.
“Great,” she said, swiping at her eyes with a tissue. “Now I’m going to have puffy eyes for the party tonight.”
“No, you won’t,” Brenna said. “I have a gel mask in the freezer that’ll get rid of that puffiness in no time.”
“You still look pretty,” Honor said, sliding her hand over Erin’s hair.
“You always know the right thing to say,” Erin said. “But honestly, I’m a wreck.”
“All my girls are beautiful, even when you cry,” her mom said. “But Brenna’s right. A mask on your eyes will get rid of the puffiness. And God knows, Erin, you needed to cry it out.”
Erin nodded, then turned to Brenna. “Is that what you did when your marriage to Mitchell ended?”
Brenna nodded. “For days. And days. And then I never cried again. You need to get it out of you, Erin, or you’ll end up breaking down at the grocery store one day. Or the hair salon.”
“I know. And I do feel better now. Still sad, but better.”
“I imagine you’re going to feel sad for a while,” Honor said. “You planned a life with Owen. And he let you down.”
She took a deep breath, then let it out. “No more talking about Owen. Is everything set for the party tonight?”
Her mother nodded. “Everything’s set. Nearly everyone reconfirmed their attendance. Obviously, some of the people Owen works with won’t be attending. And some of his closest friends and his family said they won’t be here.”
Some of Owen’s friends were her friends, too. That one stung, but she understood. It would be awkward on both sides and the only thing she wanted tonight was fun. “That’s fine. I expected that.”
“But Jason’s coming,” Brenna said.
Erin smiled. “He told me he’d be here. I mean, he was my friend before he was Owen’s friend.”
“This much is true,” her mom said. “Anyway, I have to go supervise the table setup. You sure you’re all right?”
She smiled up at her mother. “Fine and ready to party.”
“Good.” Mom leaned over to kiss her cheek. “It’ll get better, cailín leanbh.”
She smiled at her mother calling her “baby girl,” as she often did with her daughters. “Thank you, Mom.”
After her sisters left her room, she got up and went into the bathroom, staring at her tear-streaked face in the mirror.
Her hair was a mess, her eyes were swollen, and she looked just like everyone was going to expect—a bride whose groom had left her.
Well, she wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction. She went in search of the mask that Brenna had told her was in the freezer, grabbed it and tried her best to lie still on the bed. But lying still forced her to think, and her head filled with thoughts about getting married and packing for her honeymoon. And walking down the aisle next to her dad, with Owen standing there at the other end waiting to marry her.
She felt the prick of tears again and inhaled. She pulled the mask away long enough to turn on music. Loud, heart-pumping music. To hell with relaxation. She needed something that would keep her brain occupied, that would make her want to sing and would keep her from dwelling on things she couldn’t change.