On Our Wedding, I Married His Rival

On the night of my bachelorette party, someone slipped a key card into my hand. I thought it was a little surprise from my fiancé. But the second I pushed the door open, there was my worst enemy, Wendy Sloane, pinned under him—the two of them tangled in the sheets, not bothering to stop. Catching sight of me, he finally rolled off her, slow and unbothered. "She's the investor's daughter. Didn't want to shortchange her." Then, seeing how calm I looked, he rushed to add, "Relax. You're still the one I'm marrying. Wedding's still on tomorrow. Just—promise me you won't give her a hard time after we're married." He expected me, at the very least, to ask him why. Instead I slid the engagement ring off my finger and texted the man who'd been circling me for ten years. Tessa: Marry me? I'm short a groom. He texted back in seconds. Aaron: On my way. ***** By the time I got to St. Patrick's, he and his groomsmen were already at the entrance. "Well, look who showed," someone said. Ethan stood on the steps in a white tux, that maddening little smile on his face, like he owned the whole block. Brandon elbowed him, grinning ear to ear. "Look at this guy—out messing around the night before his own wedding, and the bride still shows up in her veil like a good girl. You know what that is? That's what winning looks like." Another one chimed in. "Seriously—heard he went all night and still made it to the altar. Lucky bride." The whole place cracked up. Ethan's mouth curved, easy as ever. "Tessa's been mine for ten years. She can't do without me." He glanced at the engagement ring I'd taken off the day before. "She's sulking, that's all. But when it comes down to it—" he paused, dead sure of himself—"she'll walk right up and put her hand in mine." Brandon gave him a thumbs-up. The car door opened, and I stepped out in white. Sunlight caught the silk and scattered. Something flickered in Ethan's eyes—something close to real admiration. "My girl cleans up nice." But before he could reach for my hand, his phone buzzed and pulled him away. A name lit up the screen. The corner of his mouth ticked up, and he stepped off to take it. "What is it? I told you to call me later." A lazy, sing-song voice came through. "I'm flying out this afternoon—hurry up and ditch that woman at the church for me, would you?" Sugary, gloating. "Stealing your groom right on Tessa's big day. Watching her lose is better than anything." "You've got a real sense of timing," Ethan said, and laughed. He hung up. Brandon leaned in. "Who was that?" "Wendy." Ethan pocketed the phone, eyes bright. "Flying out this afternoon. Wants me to see her off." Brandon raised a brow. "And your wedding—" "What's the rush?" Ethan waved it off. "The ceremony's a two-hour formality. I'll run over, see her off, ten minutes tops." Brandon, wisely, dropped it. Ethan came over to me, looking at me with that soft, possessive warmth. "Baby, wait right here. I'm gonna go see Wendy off." Then he turned and headed for the other car. "Ethan." I didn't move. He stopped, looked back. Same maddening, everything's-handled look on his face. "If you walk out that door today," I said, spacing each word, "I'm changing grooms."