Diary of a Wedding Planner in Love (Tales Behind the Veils Book 2) (16 page)

March

Saturday, March 1st

My morning wedding with Lillian went well, and I got done in plenty of time to catch a nap and be showered and ready when Cabe got here.

He was still on edge. I could tell from the moment he walked in the door. I assumed it stemmed from last night and whatever drama may have transpired between him and his mom today. He refused to talk about it, though.

"Are you okay?" I asked as soon as I saw the scowl darkening his face.

"Oh, I'm fine." The sarcasm dripped from his voice.

"You want to talk about it?"

"Nope." He went straight to the pantry, got out the bottle of gin, and immediately mixed a gin and tonic. Not a good sign.

"Maybe we should just get a movie and stay in tonight."

"No. You have a Saturday night with no wedding. We're going dancing. Cheers." He lifted his glass to me and then drained it.

I sat and watched him for a moment, trying to choose my words carefully.

"Maybe going out's not a good idea. Let's just hang here." I added a bit of extra cheer for encouragement.

"I want to go out. You ready?"

I was, before he stormed in and changed the forecast for the evening. His current mood didn't bode well for a great night out.

"Cabe, I think we need to talk. Why don't you tell me what's going on? With Maggie? With your family?"

"My
family—",
he stressed the word with such vehemence that I flinched, "is a dysfunctional, twisted and toxic situation right now. It's not something I care to discuss."

"Okay, but I think it might do you good to talk about it. To get it out. I mean, obviously you're upset. Tell me what happened. I want to understand so I can help."

He laughed, but it held no joy. "To help? Yeah. They're beyond help.
I'm
beyond help. Maybe we're all beyond help."

Wow. Whatever it was had to be serious. To hear him talk like that about his family—about himself—broke my heart and frightened me.

"I wish you'd talk to me, Cabe. I know I've been self-absorbed with the job stuff, and maybe with everything happening between us, I’ve kind of been oblivious to what you're dealing with, but I'm here. I'm listening. Please tell me why you're so upset."

He looked at me for a few seconds, and I could almost see the wheels churning in his head, deciding whether or not to talk. I thought for a minute he had decided to speak, but then he walked to the door and opened it.

"I want to go dance. Let's go."

In hindsight, I should have refused. I should have insisted we stay in and pushed him to talk. I definitely should have kept him from drinking any more, but I didn't know how it was all going to turn out.

He made a beeline for the bar as soon as we arrived, and he drained a drink and hit the dance floor with a vengeance. I've always been a little bit in awe of Cabe's dance skills. I think he inherited his mom's dancer genes. The man has moves on the dance floor which must be seen to be believed.

So fluid, so natural, so sexy. He exudes confidence and charisma, and it only takes a few moments for him to be completely surrounded. Likes bees to honey. Moths to a flame.

We usually dance tight to each other, though, so when girls try to elbow in, there's not a way to get between us. Even before we started swapping spit these last couple months, we've always pretty much danced with only each other. We have moves. We have steps. We know each other's rhythm, and we move well together.

I mean, we've definitely had nights in the past where one of us had someone else on our radar so we flirted or pursued our own interests. But since things turned more intimate between us, there'd been none of that. The few times we'd been out dancing as a ‘couple’, he'd had eyes only for me, and his roving hands along with his body moving against mine left no doubt to anyone watching that neither of us was available.

Tonight was different. Cabe danced wild, a man tormented by his own demons. Alone on the crowded dance floor in his own internal world. He stayed near me, but we didn't connect. In fact, I sometimes wondered if he knew I was there. He had turned his back to me for a short portion of the song, and the space between us allowed a guy to step in.

"Hello," the dancing man said loudly. He gave me the appreciative perusal of a man on the prowl and moved in a little closer.

I took a step back as I danced, looking to make eye contact with Cabe, but he kept his back turned as he moved to the beat with his head down. I twisted sideways to ignore the dancing man, but he moved with me.

"What's your name?" he asked. I spun back around with the music, intending to move closer to Cabe, but he was gone. I searched the dance floor for him, but he was nowhere to be found. I made my way through wild elbows and head tosses until I broke free of the dancers. Cabe was standing at the bar, tossing down another drink. I knew I needed to get him to slow down.

"Hey, where'd you go?" I asked him.

"I got thirsty, and you looked busy." He took another swallow and looked away toward the dance floor.

Whoa. I'd never known him to exhibit jealousy. It surprised me and unnerved me. This wasn't the Cabe I knew. I was in uncharted territory.

I didn't see Dancing Man approach until he was already standing between us.

"Hey, I would love to have just one dance with your girlfriend," he said to Cabe. "May I?"

Cabe stared past me and answered Dancing Guy without looking at him.

"She's not my girlfriend. We're just friends. Be my guest." And with that, he drained his drink and walked away.

I couldn't move or speak. Pain ripped through my gut like I'd been sucker punched. Which I guess symbolically I had been. Cabe had just basically denied my existence in his life. My importance. He had denied any feelings he had for me. Any intimacy we had shared. He had pretty much just handed me over to some other guy without so much as even making eye contact with me.

Talk about being hurt. Humiliated. Embarrassed. And pissed.

I didn't know what the hell he had going on in his head. Obviously he was upset. Angry. In pain about something. But since he had neglected to deem me worthy of hearing about it, I had no idea what it was.

Besides, regardless of what was wrong with him tonight, how could it possibly justify him just tossing me aside? Maybe I had been a bit slow on the uptake of realizing my feelings for him, but I had stood by him through thick and thin for years. I'd done everything I could to be supportive and understanding since he started wigging out about our relationship and what it all meant. Even when he pulled away from me and it cut like a knife.

But this? This was bullshit. It was rude. Hurtful. Disrespectful. Demeaning. Degrading.

I realized Dancing Man was still standing there, his hand outstretched to take mine, and I grabbed it wholeheartedly.

"I didn't catch your name," he said as we entered the dance floor.

"Tyler," I growled back at him. Poor man. He had no idea what the hell he had just got caught up in. Now, I admit I probably could have handled the situation differently, but I reacted based on my wounded pride and my battered heart without giving much thought to all the outcomes.

I rocked Dancing Man's world. I made sure to grind against him. I swayed against him. I teased and flirted and tantalized. I never once made eye contact with him, and I never smiled or spoke, but he didn't care. It probably added to the allure.

I knew Cabe was watching. I could feel it. I didn't know why he'd done what he did, but I knew with everything in me he was somewhere watching me and Dancing Man. I casually scanned the crowd, not wanting him to catch me looking. I didn't see him, but I could feel his eyes on me.

So I put on a show. I'm not proud of it, and in hindsight, it only added fuel to a combustible situation, but I was a woman rejected. I exacted my revenge.

Dancing Man never knew what hit him, and he never knew he didn't have a chance in hell of closing the deal dangling in front of him. He was an enthusiastic, unfortunate pawn in my endeavor to punish Cabe for giving me away.

After a while, I had grown tired of the game and repulsed by Dancing Man's advances. Granted, he was only reacting to the signals I gave him, but it was never about him anyway.

I left the floor without even saying goodbye and began to search the club for Cabe. I circled the entire ground floor twice but saw no sign of him. I headed upstairs and looped the balcony area but didn't find him there. My anger battled my fear to see which would dominate my mind.

Had he left me here without a ride home? At first, I rejected that as impossible, but I never thought he would hand me over to a stranger, either.

The thought crossed my mind that perhaps he had taken the whole game a step farther and tucked himself away in a dark alcove making out with some other girl. My stomach turned at the thought, and I became just as wary of finding him as I was of not finding him.

I ended up almost running right into him as he careened out of the men's room, sloshing his drink all over me, him, and anyone else in the vicinity.

"Whoa there," he yelled. "It's Buttercup. What's up, Buttercup?"

He was wasted. Messy, sloppy, beyond drunk wasted.

"Where's your guy, Buttercup? Your dance partner?" He sneered the words and grabbed onto a chair to remain upright.

"You're drunk," I stated.

"No shit, Sherlock." The S's slurred and he sputtered spit.

"Come on," I said. "We're leaving."

"Oh, really? Last time I checked, we came in my car. So I don't think you get to tell me when we're leaving. I'm a little sick of all of you telling me what to do."

"There you are!" Dancing Man came up and put his arms around my waist from behind, and I jabbed an elbow in his ribs without a moment's hesitation.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Dancing Man bent over holding his ribs as he glared at me. "You crazy bitch!"

Cabe lunged for him and slammed him to the ground. At least, I think he did. In all honesty, he may have just fallen on top of the guy.

I pulled at Cabe and begged him to stop as he drew his fist back to punch the stunned Dancing Man. Other club goers grabbed him as well and pulled him to his feet, where he wobbled and put out both hands to try and steady himself.

"I'm sorry," I said to Dancing Man. "I'm just dealing with a situation. Please just leave us alone."

Dancing Man looked for a moment like he had no intention of backing down, but then Cabe stumbled and almost fell flat on his face. I think the dude realized there was no fight to be had. He glared at me again before he walked away, and I truly felt bad for the guy's unwitting role in my drama.

I struggled to get Cabe down the stairs, sure a couple of times he was going to tumble us both ass over teakettle. We were almost to the door when he announced they had his credit card at the bar for his tab.

"I need you to stand right here, okay? Cabe? Are you listening? I need you to stay here. I'm going to get your card, but they're not going to give it to me without you letting them know it's okay. So stand right here, please?" I worried he would freak out over me telling him what to do again, but instead he smiled and took my face in his hands. His breath reeked enough to intoxicate me, and I turned my head to dodge a drunken kiss. "Stay here."

"Yes, ma'am, Buttercup. Whatever you say. I don't want you to elbow me in the ribs." He made a noise that sounded somewhat like his laugh.

I managed to get the bartender to give me his card, but Cabe had to come and sign the tab. I was shocked to see he had consumed six drinks in the past hour. I'd seen him put away a few here and there over the years, but nothing like this. What the hell was he trying to do? I looked at the check again, hoping the bartender had charged him for someone else's drinks by mistake. But there were six gin and tonics. Maybe he had spilled them. Or sat them down and walked away. Undoubtedly, he hadn't consumed that much.

But his condition made it seem highly likely that he had.

The trip to the car took forever, laborious and slow. I couldn't bear his entire weight, and his height made it difficult for me to hold him upright to walk. We had to stop and sit for a few minutes every time we saw a bench, and by the time we got to his car, I was exhausted and aching from head to toe.

I worried the whole time he would refuse to give me the keys, but he handed them over without question and spilled himself into the passenger seat. I couldn't reach the pedals at all, and he laughed as I waited for the BMW's driver seat to move all the way forward.

"You're short." He hiccuped as he said it, and I chose to just ignore him. Just as I had ignored his comments and outbursts of singing the whole way to the car.

He let the window down and leaned his entire upper body out of it as I drove, and I prayed he wouldn't fall out.

"Are you gonna be sick?" I asked when he got quiet and laid his head on the window's edge. He didn't answer me, but I didn't hear any gagging noises so I hoped for the best.