By the time she let him come up for air, his head was spinning.

“Make love to me, Brett,” she whispered, peppering his jaw with fevered kisses. “Now. Please.”

He was only too happy to comply. Then, and twice more throughout the evening before they finally fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

When he awoke the next morning, he reached out for her. But instead of finding her warm body, he found only an empty space. Eyes still closed, a smile quirked his lips. Probably the princess was enjoying the indoor plumbing.

After a few minutes passed without any sound coming from the bathroom, he called out “Kayla?”

Only more silence greeted him.

Pushing up onto his elbow, he blinked against the early-morning sunshine slanting through the windows. He was about to call her name again when his gaze fell on the pillow where she’d slept next to him.

And stared at an envelope bearing his name.

He stilled, then his gaze shifted around the room.

All traces of her were gone.

Her backpack, her clothes that had lain scattered across the floor. The lotion she’d set on the nightstand.

His gaze jerked back to the envelope, and a sick feeling gripped him, his every instinct screaming that he wasn’t going to like what he read. As if in a trance, he reached for the envelope. Unfolded the letter. Read her words.

When Brett finished, his hand fisted, crumpling the paper, which he then heaved across the room. After the wadded paper hit the wall, it fell to the floor.

Where it joined his shattered heart.

21

KAYLA SAT in the stretch limo next to Meg and adjusted her sister’s voluminous bridal veil. Their mother sat across from them, blotting her eyes which had sprung a leak the minute she’d seen Meg in her wedding gown. Cindy was practicing deep breathing to stave off the motion sickness she suffered along with morning sickness. Meg had threatened to sue her if she hurled in the limo and Kayla wasn’t sure that Meg was kidding. After all the exhausting preparations that had gone into this wedding, by God, no one, preggers or not, better have the nerve to barf.

Well, after today, Bridezilla would be married and, with any luck, after a two-week honeymoon in Hawaii, Meg would revert back to being merely a type A personality, as opposed to insanely type-A plus.

“Are you all right, Kayla?” her mom asked, peering at her through watery eyes. “You haven’t seemed like yourself lately, dear. Not since you returned from South America. Oh, I hope you didn’t pick up one of those viruses you read about in the paper.”

“I’m fine, Mom,” Kayla lied. She was actually the exact opposite of fine, but she didn’t want to talk about it. Certainly not here and now. Maybe after the wedding was over, but really what was there to say? Girl met perfect boy with whom she fell madly, passionately in love. Girl was lying idiot and lost perfect boy. Girl now wallowing in lonely misery of her own making.

Because she had absolutely lost him.

She’d left him in that hotel room with that letter exactly one month ago. While her common sense had told her she’d never hear from him again, her heart…her foolish, head-over-heels-in-love heart had continued to hold on to a thread of hope that he’d understand. Forgive her. Still want her in spite of what she’d written to him.

But as the days had turned into weeks, her heart had slowly crumbled, turning to dust. Of course he didn’t understand. Of course he didn’t forgive her.

Of course he didn’t still want her.

Why would he? He could have any woman he wanted. For a short, magical time, she was the one he’d wanted. But that time had passed, and she needed to move on.

But, good God, it was so difficult to do so when every time she thought of him it hurt to breathe. And she thought about him all the time.

Of course, the wedding preparations had kept her busy for the last miserable month-very helpful since she didn’t have anything else to occupy her time or thoughts. After today, she wouldn’t even have the Great Bridal Diversion to distract her any longer. No, she’d just have lots of free time. Free time with nothing to do but think about Brett.

“You know, there’s going to be a lot of eligible men at the wedding.” Her mother gave her an encouraging nod. “You might find Mr. Right amongst Robert’s scads of single lawyer friends.”

“Just double-check with me before you agree to date any of them,” Meg said. “There are a few who have out-of-state girlfriends they conveniently forget to mention when they’re not around.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Kayla said, turning to look out the tinted window at the busy Manhattan street, “but I’m not looking.”

“Which is exactly when you find Mr. Right,” her mom said in her mother-knows-best voice.

Too late. Found him. Lost him. Can we please move on?

“Well, next week, you and Cindy and I will go shoe-shopping together,” Mom said. “That’ll cheer you up.”

“Don’t wanna go shoe-shopping,” Cindy roused herself to say. “Wanna sleep. Wanna not barf.”

“We all want you to not barf,” Meg informed her in a lawyerly voice that no doubt wrung confessions from hardened criminals. “In fact, I forbid you to barf.”

Kayla forced a smile for her mother’s benefit. “Shoe-shopping sounds…” Exhausting. And like a total waste of time. Given her situation, she couldn’t afford to splurge on footwear she didn’t need. “…like fun.”

The limo stopped at a light and Kayla saw Delriccio’s bakery on the corner. Just something else that had gone wrong lately. Every time she’d visited the bakery this past week they’d been completely sold out of her favorite hand-dipped double chocolate chunk biscotti. Jeez. On top of being utterly miserable, she was going through biscotti withdrawal. Of course, being sold out of the double chocolate chunk was probably a good thing, since her Vera Wang maid-of-honor gown was feeling a tad snug, thanks to all the pity-party biscotti she’d consumed during the last month.

She shifted and grimaced at the zipper pinching into her back. Okay, fine, her dress was more than a tad snug. She’d barely gotten the damn zipper up. Even pregnant Cindy looked less pudgy. She lived in fear of drawing too deep a breath and splitting her Wang from seam to seam. If the mortification of that didn’t kill her, Meg surely would, for ruining the wedding.

But, as miserable as she was, what difference did a few extra inches around her waist and some cellulite on her ass matter? Oh, right, don’t forget to toss in the trio of zits on her forehead. They just perfectly closed the deal.

She glanced at her watch. Only about ten or eleven more hours in the tight dress and uncomfortable shoes. Then she could go home and crawl back into bed and pull the covers over her head.

Arriving at the church, Kayla had little to do before the ceremony began, since Meg had seen to it that every detail was taken care of. In spite of Meg’s tendency to be bossy, Kayla couldn’t help but admire her formidable sister. She’d known what she wanted and had gone after it and planned her perfect wedding and that’s all there was to it.

So she was surprised when, just before they were to line up to walk down the aisle, Meg turned to her and asked in an uncertain voice, “It’s all good, right, Kayla?”

Kayla reached out and squeezed her hand. “Meg, everything is absolutely perfect.”

Walking down the aisle, Kayla held her head high and smiled at the assembled friends and relatives, forcing herself to concentrate on Meg’s happiness and not her own misery. And to not breathe in too deeply-lest she and Vera Wang suffer an unfortunate parting of the ways.

The ceremony was beautiful, from the flowers to the words to the music. Listening to Meg and Robert exchange vows, their love for each other so obvious, tears gathered in Kayla’s eyes. Tears of envy because she wanted what they had-minus all the Bridezilla stuff, of course. Tears of joy because she was genuinely happy for her sister. And tears of loss because she’d lost a man who’d once looked at her through golden-brown eyes filled with the same sort of warmth and admiration shining in the groom’s eyes for his bride.

After the ceremony and receiving line, the bridal party assembled in the church for pictures. Endless pictures. Good God, how many pictures could they take?

Then the picture taking moved outside. Posing on the church steps. More photos. Thank goodness Meg had refused to allow the traditional rice or bird seed to be tossed. Instead everyone held tiny little bottles of bubbles, and when the signal was given, they all blew out a stream of bubbles, engulfing the bride and groom in thousands of delicate soap spheres that floated up with the warm summer breeze.

Meg and Robert ran amongst the bubbles to the white antique Rolls Royce that would transport them to Central Park for more pictures, then onto the Waldorf Astoria for the reception. The rest of the bridal party would meet them at the Waldorf, traveling in style in the stretch limo. And once they arrived, they’d be subjected to more picture taking.

The crowd slowly dispersed, and Kayla stood on the top step, chatting with her cousin Daniel who lived in Florida, and whom she hadn’t seen in five years. He was talking about some night club he’d invested in and even though she nodded politely, her attention wandered to the people milling around on the steps and sidewalk. Uncle Will and Aunt Gwen were chatting with her mom and Cindy. Meg’s boss and his wife were talking to a young couple Kayla didn’t know. Cousins Debbie and Marla. Another couple Kayla didn’t recognize. Brett Thornton.

She went perfectly still, then blinked twice, certain she was seeing wrong.