Regan walked through the front doors of O’Patrick’s Pub, Grill and Common House as she had nearly every night for the entire duration of her college career and the several years following. There was a stool towards the back door, that had been her home four nights out of five where she had studied, written term papers, met with a friend to discuss class, or just sit and enjoy the atmosphere. It was far enough from the front of the pub that she could have some peace, but the bartenders were never too far to hear her request for another mocha, or to change up her drink to something potent. She made her way, as though tonight was any other night, to her stool and took a seat.
The fact that she was dressed in the long flowing satin of her wedding gown was the furthest thing from her mind. The other patrons gawked as she passed, her train now filithy with dirt and grime, the result of leaving a fair portion of it outside the car door as she had sped away from the church. Harrison was probably still there, or had gone to her townhouse expecting to find her, to talk some sense into her. Emma would do the same. Her current cubicle-mate, Drake, would probably be finding a barely-polite way to ask if there was still a reception even if the wedding was off, and if it still featured an open bar.