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I hug Rosie. “I’ve had her since she was a puppy. I found her at the shelter.”
He squats and lets her sniff his hand. “Hey, girl.”
Rosie takes to him right away, and I realize all over again that dogs can sense what kind of a person someone is much faster than a human. “Wow.”
“What?” Dylan glances at me.
“She never took to Elliott like that. She really only tolerates him.”
“That should tell you something.” He cups her face and scratches behind both ears. “Such a pretty girl, you are.”
I stand. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”
“Take your time. I don’t think Elliott is coming anytime soon.”
“I suppose you’re right.” I stare out the sliders to the balcony that overlooks the city and second thoughts assail me. Am I doing the right thing? What if I’m making a huge mistake? “Maybe I should leave him a note, or call him,” I murmur, not really expecting an answer; I’m just thinking out loud.
“Elaina?”
I turn and find Dylan staring at me. “What?”
“Don’t second guess this.”
“Maybe I overreacted. Maybe he’s crushed. He left so many messages. I ignored them all. Maybe he’s sorry. Really sorry.”
Dylan inhales deeply and blows it out. “That’s not the case.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“You don’t know him anymore. Maybe he’s not the same man you remember as a child. Maybe—”
“Elaina. Stop. None of that is true.”
I lift my chin and won’t meet his eyes. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him inhale deeply again and dig his hand in his hip pocket. A moment later, he’s scrolling over the screen of his phone, then holds it out to me.
“Here.”
I glance down at it but don’t take it.
“I didn’t want to have to show you this, but you need to have all the facts.” He hits a play button on the video and slides it across the kitchen granite island toward me.
It spins and stops, facing me. The image is a door opening, and I recognize it as a hotel room door.
“Before you woke up this morning, I took the keycard and went up to your suite.”
I stare at the screen. It shows the suite in the early dawn light. He moves through it to the bedroom. He scans the bed with the red rose petals scattered. The shape of two bodies lay underneath the crisp white sheets. Elliott is clearly on his back, his mouth slack and snoring. Long blonde hair trails over the woman’s bare back, and her arm is thrown over his abs. I can’t see her face, so I don’t know if I know her. The camera pans as Dylan turns to leave, and as he does, I see a pink sherbet gown crumpled on the floor.
She’s one of my bridesmaids.
Blonde.
I hiss in a breath.
Madison, my twenty-four-year-old cousin, the one my mother insisted I put in my wedding. “That little bitch.”
“Don’t blame her. He’s the one cheating on you,” Dylan reminds me of something I don’t need reminding.
