her pale blonde hair draped over her bare shoulders and brushed against her breasts. She looked older, a woman, more beautiful than the girl he remembered. When the bridal march began to play, Brian forced himself to stand, while the blushing bride, donning a stunning white Vera Wang gown, promenaded down the aisle. The lovely couple met at the altar and took their wedding vows together. After the ceremony, Brian and one of the bridesmaids met in an alcove and took some codeine together, washed down with a drink of holy water.
Brian stood in line for the bar at the reception, an extravagant, chic soirée at one of the luxury hotels near the church. He’d eaten scarcely any of the lavish dinner—roasted beat salad with chèvre and pistachios, followed by poached salmon topped with cucumber-mint raita—his appetite lost
to restless thoughts of Bethany. Just before the waiters served dessert, he’d made his escape from the table, hoping to find solace with a drink. Relax … or not. He blanched as she traipsed across the ballroom, heels clacking gently against the parquet floor, and nearly collided with him in line. When she saw him, she froze for an instant, a look of revulsion creeping onto her face. To her, he represented everything she wanted to forget, a time when she let herself go, a time when she gave herself to him, a time of desperation. Fuck! I fucked him. God, how did things get so out of hand that night? Fuck him. She told herself she was no longer that fragile girl. She was engaged to the son of a state senator and had a successful public relations career at a top pharmaceutical company. She drove a brand-new Mercedes. She knew people. Quite simply, she was better than him. “Oh, excuse me,” Bethany said, no