Hot Finish (Fast Track #3)(49)
Author: Erin McCarthy

Tamara had known Suzanne for six years and she was her best friend in the whole world. Watching Suzanne move around the room, her dress loose from having lost weight, her skin wan, and her hair dull, she was genuinely worried about Suz. “She wouldn’t really talk about it with me either, just told me to go read that Tuesday Talladega’s blog. But Suzanne should know not to let that stuff bother her.”

“What stuff? Being humiliated online or discovering that her ex-husband took her to the same hotel as three previous paramours?”

Okay, when Imogen put it like that . . . “I know. It’s really hard to be the target of gossip. I’ve endured my share of mudslinging over the years and Elec had someone accuse him of fathering her child if you recall. It’s not fun. But it’s part of the business, unfortunately.”

Tamara had abandoned her own cupcake after eating half, well aware that she had gained a couple of pounds since her wedding—she liked to call it happy hips. But if she could give five pounds to Suzanne she gladly would, since she had extra and Suzanne was wasting away.

Suzanne was moving around the room, ensuring everything was as it should be for the event, a completely over-the-top fantasy-inspired bridal shower for seventy. Tamara didn’t know ninety percent of the women in the room, and she didn’t really think she wanted to try. What she really wanted to do was kidnap Suzanne and force her to take a seventy-two-hour nap and eat some pasta and steak.

“Has Elec mentioned if Ryder said anything to him?”

“No, he said Ryder is not saying a word and that he’s spending all his time down at the garage checking on his Daytona car.”

“Ty said the same thing. He said he confronted Ryder and didn’t get any sort of explanation whatsoever.”

“So neither one of them are talking. Not good.” Tamara saw Suzanne moving in their direction. “Let’s grab her and make her sit down at least.”

She sprang up and wrapped Suzanne in a hug. “Will you sit down?” she whispered in her ear. “You look like you’re going to pass out.”

“I’m fine.” Suz gave her a tight smile. “Nikki only cried once today and that was when she saw what Jonas was wearing, which kind of made me want to cry, too, so all in all, a successful event.”

The dark circles under Suzanne’s eyes were the color of Tamara’s favorite charcoal gray eye shadow, and she went from concerned to alarmed. “Okay, you know what? When this shindig is over you are coming home with me for the night and we’re going to put on comfy pj’s and drink wine and relax, do you hear me? I can’t remember the last time I heard you make a snarky Suzanne comment and we know that’s just not normal.”

“I just criticized Jonas’s clothes, doesn’t that count?”

“No, that was halfhearted.” Tamara pushed Suzanne down into her empty chair. “I don’t think you’ve eaten, do you want my cupcake?”

Suzanne’s already pale face turned waxy. “No, thanks.” She did sip from Tamara’s water glass then immediately stood back up, taking a deep breath. “Okay, I will come over after the shower if you don’t mind me falling asleep on your couch.”

“Not at all. I’ll even put a blanket over top of you.”

“Thanks.” Suzanne gave a small smile then winced when Nikki squealed in delight at something she had unwrapped.

“That’s the last gift, and I just want to say something,” Nikki said, waving her arms to get the attention of the room. “There has been someone who has totally been there for me, who has kept me sane, and helped me figure out every last little detail of this wedding, and I owe her such a huge thanks. It’s not easy to plan a wedding in six weeks and I could not have done it without her.”

That was nice, at least Nikki was going to acknowledge Suzanne.

“So a round of applause for my best friend, Sara. You’re awesome!”

A blonde popped up to the right of Nikki and smiled and blushed and hugged Nikki. “Is that the girl who slept with Evan Monroe?” Imogen asked, moving next to them, her coat on her arm like she was done with the whole shower and heading home before she got caught in the exit flow.

“Yes,” Suzanne said, a grin actually splitting her face. “Evan got in over his head with that one. She’s got wedding bells on her mind already.”

Yikes. “There is no way in hell I’m letting my brother-in-law marry that girl. And Nikki should have thanked you, not that twig!” Tamara said, annoyed on Suzanne’s behalf.

“Yeah, well, Sara’s been about as helpful as a back pocket on a shirt, but I have to admire a friendship built entirely on their mutual ability to stroke each other’s egos. It’s really quite amazing and entertaining.” Suzanne glanced around the room. “Now let me find the catering manager so I can sign off and we can get the hell out of here.”

SUZANNE wasn’t sure going to Tammy’s was a good idea, but now that she was spread out on the couch in borrowed fleece pj pants, an afghan over top of her, she was damn glad she had. Imogen was sitting cross-legged in a rocker and Tammy was digging through her wine cabinet.

“What time are the kids getting home from your in-laws?”

“Probably about seven since they took the kids Christmas shopping, and Elec’s upstairs on the computer, so we can hang out as long as we like. In fact, I think you should spend the night, Suz. I’ll make you a Southern breakfast.”

Her friends were clearly worried about her and she was touched. She knew she looked like shit. She felt like shit. And she had a worry weighing on her like no other, in addition to the hurt she was feeling over Ryder and his taking her to his love shack, aka the Wynn Hotel.

“I just might, we’ll see.”

The family room was cozy and warm and the Christmas tree was glowing in the corner, a blinking star on the top. Tammy had a fancy theme tree in the foyer, while the one here in the family room was colorful and vibrant and a little overdone, showing the kids’ hand in it. Hell, and probably Elec’s touch. Suzanne hadn’t even bothered to put up a tree this year. She wasn’t feeling Christmas. She was just feeling crappy.

“What kind of wine do you want? Red or white?”

“I’m not going to have any wine.”

“I’ll take red,” Imogen said, then raised her eyebrows at Suzanne. “No wine, are you sure?”

“I can’t because I think I’m pregnant.” No better way to say it than to just drop it out there. She thought she was pregnant. There it was. As scary and horrible and bile-producing as it was, it was the truth, and there was nothing she could do about it.