I glare at him over my beer. I don’t know why. I guess it’s just that he mentioned Cooper’s name. Cooper’s not high on my list of favorite people right now.

Actually, neither is his brother.

“Nice place,” Jordan says, looking around. It’s clear he’s being sarcastic. Jordan’s idea of a nice place is the bar at the Four Seasons. Which isn’t exactly in my price range. Anymore.

“Well, you know me,” I say, more lightly than I feel. “Only the best.”

“Yeah.” Jordan stops looking around and looks at me instead. This is somehow worse. I know I’m not exactly ravishing at the moment. Last night’s wild ride didn’t do much for the bags under my eyes, and I didn’t actually wash my hair this morning. Instead, I washed it the night before, to get the smell of Tau Phi House cigarette smoke out of it. Sleeping on my hair while wet has a way of making it look…well, sort of matted the next day. Add that to the fact that I’m wearing my second-best pair of jeans—I still haven’t managed to replace the ones with the blood-stained knees—which aren’t exactly loose, to the point where I have to constantly worry about camel toe, and you have the picture.

But Jordan’s no prize today, either. He’s got dark circles where I’ve got bags, and his case of hat head is even worse than mine. His blond hair is sticking up in tufts all over his head.

“You want a beer?” I ask him, since Belinda is looking over at us questioningly.

“Oh, God, no,” Jordan says, and shudders. “I’m never drinking again after last night. I seriously think someone slipped something in my drink. I only had that one—”

“You told me you had ten glasses of wine before you even got downtown,” I remind him.

“Yeah,” Jordan says, with a So what? look on his face. “That’s what I have most nights. I’ve never been as blotto as I was last night.”

“Why would someone roofie you?” I ask. “It’s not exactly like you’re unwilling to have sex with strangers.”

He glares at me. “Hey, now,” he says. “That’s not fair. And I don’t know why someone would do it. Maybe it was, like, an ugly girl, or someone I wouldn’t ordinarily go with.”

“I didn’t see any ugly girls at that party.” Then I brighten. “Maybe it was one of the guys! Frats are known hotbeds of latent homosexuality.”

Jordan makes a face. “Please, Heather…let’s just drop it, okay? Suffice it to say, I’m never drinking again.”

“Well, that will make the champagne toasts tomorrow a bit of a letdown,” I say.

Jordan fingers the initials someone has carved into the tabletop, not meeting my gaze. “Look, Heather,” he says. “About last night—”

“I don’t know where your skis went, Jordan,” I say. “I called Waverly Hall and the guard said no one left any skis there, so obviously someone stole them. I’m really sorry, but you know—”

He flinches. I think it’s because I’ve spoken so loudly.

“I don’t care about the stupid skis,” he says. “I’m talking about us.”

I blink at him. Then I remember that Cooper must have driven him home this morning.

Oh, no.

“Jordan,” I say quickly. “I am not still in love with you. I don’t care what Cooper told you, okay? I mean, sure, I used to be in love with you. But that was a long time ago. I’ve moved on—”

He blinks at me. “Cooper? What are you talking about?”

“Didn’t he give you a ride home this morning?”

“Yeah. But we didn’t talk about you. We talked about Mom and Dad. It was nice. I haven’t talked to Cooper—just one-on-one—like that in a long time. I think we worked out some things. Our differences, I mean. We both agreed that we’re nothing alike—but that that’s all right. Whatever his relationship with Mom and Dad…well, it’s no reason he and I can’t get along.”

I stare at him. I can’t quite believe what I’m hearing. Cooper can’t stand Jordan. I mean, to the point of refusing to take his calls or open the door when he comes over.

“Wow,” I say. “That’s…that’s…well, progress. Good for you.”

“Yeah,” Jordan says. He continues to finger the graffiti. “I think I talked him into coming to the wedding tomorrow. I mean, he didn’t agree to be my best man, like I asked, but he said he’d come.”

I’m genuinely shocked. Cooper can’t stand his family, and now he’s planning on attending a big blowout wedding at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, with a reception at the Plaza, in their company? Those are so not his type of events….

“Well,” I say. Because I really don’t know what else to say. “That’s…that’s amazing, Jordan. Really. I’m so happy for you.”

“It really means a lot to me,” Jordan says. “The only thing better would have been if…well, if you would have agreed to come tomorrow, Heather.”

I clutch my beer. “Oh, Jordan,” I say. “That’s so sweet. But—”

“That’s why it’s so hard for me to say what I’m about to say,” Jordan goes on, as if I hadn’t spoken. “And that’s this. Heather.” He reaches across the table to grip the hand that isn’t curled around my pint glass, then looks earnestly into my eyes. “It really hurts me to say this, but…I can’t let you come to my wedding tomorrow.”

I blink at him. “Jordan,” I say. “I—”

“Please let me finish,” Jordan says, squeezing my hand. “It isn’t that I don’t want you there, Heather. More than anyone in the world, I want you there. You’re the person I’ve been closest to for the longest in my life. If there’s anyone I want to be by my side for the most important event of my life, it’s you.”

“Um, Jordan,” I say. “I’m flattered. I really am. But shouldn’t the person you most want at your side for this be—”

“It’s Tania,” Jordan interrupts.

“Right,” I say. “That’s what I mean. Shouldn’t Tania be the person you most want at your side? Considering she’s the one you’re—”