After I Was His

I pause outside the door and listen.

No sound.

Maybe he’s really not in here. What am I supposed to tell Linda? What am I supposed to tell Summer? Is there a jewelry store down the block where I could pick up some hasty wedding bands? That would soften the blow, I imagine.

I raise my hand to the door and pause.

Here goes nothing.

I rap confidently on the door with my knuckles, as if I’m definitely not starting to worry that Wes is well and truly gone, perhaps even out of the city. “Room service,” I call out in my sexiest voice.

A moment of silence.

Then—

A soft shuffling from inside the room.

The door cracks open, and in the light from the hallway, I see the man who must be Wes.

Holy shit, he’s hot.

The pictures of him don’t do justice to the hard curve of his jaw. To the electric green eyes shot through with honey. To the shirtless, muscled body—

Shirtless? Yes, shirtless. He’s got jeans on and nothing else.

“You’re not room service,” he says, and his voice resonates with something at the back of my spine, at the base of my core, something hot and reckless.

“I’m here to forcibly take you to a wedding,” I tell him. 

“Good luck with that.”

He puts his hand on the door and shuts it in my face.

The best man is missing.

Not missing persons report missing, I hope, but he’s not here in Houston Hall. I’ve gathered as much from the mother of the bride, one Linda Sullivan. The bride is my best friend and former roommate, Summer. It is her day.

I was only three mimosas into this glorious event when Linda grabbed me by the elbow and pulled me into a little alcove, hiding us from the caterers behind a potted plant. “My son is missing,” she said urgently. “He’s not here.”

I wanted to make a joke about where men usually are when things get serious, but weddings, as I’ve learned from life experience, are not the place for jokes until the reception gets to that boozy point in the evening when nobody can remember what you say or if you were even there. I nodded solemnly and asked the obvious question. “Any idea where he might be?”

“Did he check the hotel bar?”

“Of course he checked—why would Wes be at the hotel bar? This is his sister’s wedding day. He wouldn’t be drinking.”

“No, of course not.”

We enter the bridal suite en masse, the both of us flanking Mrs. Sullivan, who actually looks quite stately in a shimmering silver mother-of-the-bride gown that doesn’t make her look old as hell. Hazel and I are in matching sage green numbers.

Summer stands up at the sight of us, her too-cute baby January squirming in her arms. They’re both disgustingly beautiful, even if January is way underdressed for the occasion. She’s only wearing a diaper. “Thank God, Mom. We’ve got to get me in this dress.” 

“Are you sure about this?” I mumble out of the corner of my mouth. All three of us in the bridal party look at each other.

Linda doesn’t answer.

“Oh, no,” Summer says. “What’s the look for?”

“There’s a slight issue,” I say, trying to make my face look both lighthearted and comforting. I have no idea if I’m pulling it off. Summer’s eyebrows raise. This is code for, Tell me what’s wrong immediately, and why have you phrased it like this? Maximum suspense? You’re an asshole, Whitney. “With your brother.”

“With Wes?” Summer’s eyebrows draw closer together, her entire forehead wrinkling. “What’s wrong with Wes?”

“He’s not here,” I say confidently, though the man could be striding into the room right now.

Summer gives me a pleading look. “You’re going to find him, right?”

“I’m the right one for the job, bestie. Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be back.”

I hope.

Keep reading After I Was His to find out why readers give it all the stars!

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Now that was some emotional mayhem! I. Loved. Every. Maddening. Sweet. Heart Breaking. Moment. Of. It. I honestly couldn't get enough! –Reviewer

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Amelia Wilde reached into my chest, grabbed my heart, squeezed hard, then shocked me back to life with her latest book, After I Was His. Oh, the feels!! –Reviewer