Hitched (21 page)

"I left him," she says in between sobs. "Oh shit. I'm sorry. I'm supposed to be cheering you up."

"Don't apologize. And don't fucking lose it on me." I grab her drink and refill it, channeling Vi when I say, "Mr. Musician isn't worth it."

She chuckles, wiping her eyes and taking the drink.

Tate sighs. "Are there no fucking gentlemen left?"

"That's the problem," says Vi. "He was
too
gentle."

Yeah. That could be a problem. But not with Sebastian—

I stop thinking and slap myself. Hard. On the face.

"What the fuck are you doing?" asks Tate.

"I'm cutting out the bullshit. We need to go out. Now. And do something crazy." I grab their arms and pull them off the couch. "Let's go to a club." I make it two steps.

And collapse onto my comfy chair. "Fuck."

"Maybe tomorrow, sis." Tate and Vi fall back on the couch, Tate restarts
The Princess Bride
, and we pass out in a few minutes.

***

A knock on the door wakes me. My mouth tastes like dirt, and my head is pounding, but I force myself to stand up. Vi and Tate are still asleep on the couch, despite the loud banging. Lucky bastards. I open the door.

And see Sebastian.

Shit. My drunk brain forgot about him. If it hadn't, I wouldn't have opened the door for days.

He steps forward, reaching for me. "I got your package. I know you think you're not ready—"

"I'm not." I back away, because I need my resolve to end this, and the touch of his fingers will steal it. I don't even bring up Celene. I tell myself it doesn't matter, that this had to happen even if she hadn't been there yesterday. I'm not curious about why she was there. At least, these are the lies I feed myself. It almost works.

"Let me finish. I need you, Kacie. No matter what, I need you in my life. I would never ask you to give up your job. But I need to ask you to stay with me."

"I tried," I say, wanting to run into his arms. "But I can't be with you. Not now."

"Then I'll wait for you."

"Don't waste your time. I’m not going to change my mind."

"Kacie, it wouldn't be a waste."

I almost break into tears at that. "You need to leave," I say, starting to close the door on him.

He holds the door open, stopping me. His eyes are sad. "If you reconsider, let me know."

At that moment, I know he won't get over me. So I do what I have to. "I met your one condition. I spent the summer with you, and now we're done. Don't come over here again. Don't text me again. Stop messing up my life."

His jaw tenses. "You don't mean that."

I don't. But I can't say it. I can't say anything. So I close the door on him and let the tears flow.

***

For the next week, I bury myself in work. Joey has a friend getting married for the second time, and the party needs to be something new, so we're all going horseback riding.
I will not think about Sebastian. I will not think about Sebastian.
This has become my mantra.

We receive a referral from Dan, and I wonder if this is Sebastian's way of meeting me again. But I doubt it. He hasn't texted me since we broke up. I wish he had, but it's a stupid wish because I'm the one who told him not to. See, these kind of annoying thoughts are the reason I stay focused on Hitched and working out. Tate and I run every day, and every day he asks me how I'm doing. I say "fine," hoping that if I say it enough, it will be true.

Vi is going through her own emotional turmoil. Ever since her breakup with Chad, she's taken on more clients but doesn’t seem any happier.

"Is there any chance for you two?" I ask as we sip coffee at Starbucks one morning.

"He'd take me back," she says, picking the blueberries out of her blueberry muffin. "But I don't really love him, and I can't keep hurting him. It's more than just sex for him."

"I thought it was more for you, too."

"I wanted it to be more." She finishes the muffin and cleans her long manicured nails. "But some people just aren't right for each other, even if they're both amazing people."

"Like me and Sebastian," I say.

She grins. "I wasn't talking about you." I can tell she wants us to get back together. She doesn't really agree with the whole “not ready” thing. “True love doesn't happen every day” is her motto. Well, the motto she stole from
The Princess Bride
.

The bachelor party on Wednesday goes fine. It's only a hotel room with strippers, but the groom seems to enjoy it.

When the weekend arrives, Tate convinces us to go out. "I'm tired of seeing my ladies moping around," he says. "Like you said Kacie, we need to do something crazy. So we're hitting a club, and I want everyone to get laid tonight."

He's right. I should try to move on, so I put on my sexiest red dress and high heels—not my red ones because I'm still missing the one I lost at Sebastian's—and we meet up with Vi at the club. "Three shots of vodka," I tell the bartender, knowing I'll have to be very drunk to even have a chance at hooking up. Sebastian is too often on my mind. I need to drown him out.

"He's cute." Vi points at a guy dancing alone, his arms thick, his blonde hair short and curly. He doesn't even compare to Sebastian.

"I hate him," I say.

Vi frowns. "Well if you feel that strongly, there is that guy over—"

"Not him." I down another shot. "Sebastian. I hate Sebastian."
Because he's too fucking perfect and has ruined all other men for me.

"Then give Curls a chance," says Vi.

"Curls?" We both laugh, and I check out the guy on the dance floor again. "You can have him."

"I most certainly will." She throws back her last shot, grabs her purse, and saunters across the dance floor. Curls notices her right away, and they start dancing.

Tate puts a hand on my shoulder. "If you can't get your mind off Sebastian, then what help are you going to be with Hitched?"

I brush his hand off. "I've worked all week."

"You've
tried
to work all week. I'd rather have the happy Kacie who fantasizes about her next date and keeps sexting her boyfriend, her passion bleeding into her career, then the one with a broken heart who can't find the joy in anything."

I feel like cussing him out, but I can't, because he's right. "I pushed him away," I say. "Even if I wanted to change things, it's too late."

"I'm sure Sebastian disagrees."

"Maybe."
But I can't face him again.

Tate stands up. "While you think about what I said, I'm going to go find a girl to fuck." He starts dancing with a blonde he'll probably never see after tonight, and I order another drink.

Vi is right.

True love doesn't happen everyday.

I try to forget about him. I do everything I can to wipe the memory of his scent out of my mind. To erase the thoughts of how his hands felt on my body.

But my dreams betray me.

Night after night I wake, expecting him to be snuggled up against me, hogging the sheets, and every day I'm disappointed by the cold, empty betrayal of my lonely bed.

So I do what I've always done in the past. I throw myself into my work.

Fall has come, and the weddings and crazy bachelor parties have slowed down. We knew this would be the case. We planned for it. Still, I feel the pinch of it financially and am forced to cut down on my trips to Starbucks and nip my budding wine addiction in the bud. Probably for the best, that one.

With renewed determination to not be a pathetic lump of a human, I grab my car keys and a water bottle, along with a box of business cards. "Tate, I'm heading to the Strip to proselytize. Be back in a few hours."

He looks up from his computer. "That's a great idea. Want some company?"

"Nah, I got this. You work on those newspaper ads."

He salutes me. "Yes ma'am."

It may be fall, but it's still hot as hell during the day.

I park in one of the hotel lots and map my route. The mission is to hit up as many hotels as possible, letting the concierge know the awesome services that Hitched has to offer and to build personal relationships. This business is all about referrals, and no one does referrals like a concierge who likes you.

I also have a side mission that I didn't tell Tate about. I check my purse to make sure the letter I slaved over is still in there. Yup. I make it my first stop, heading to the Wynn to get this into the hands of David Melton himself.

Vi knows the concierge there. I don't ask how. And he's going to help me.

When I arrive and introduce myself, the mousy man smiles. "Mistress Vi speaks highly of you," the concierge says. "Come, let us do this thing."

I refrain from laughing as he sneaks me to the penthouse suite and knocks on the door of Melton's room. I'm not sure who I'm expecting to answer the door, but I'm actually shocked to see the man himself standing there, dressed in black silk pajamas, his dark hair messy, his handsome face different without all the stage makeup. I almost forget how to speak.

He looks like he just woke up, and I realize this is probably early for him. I quickly introduce myself and hand him the letter. "I know you've chosen someone else, but if that doesn't work out, please consider Hitched. I know we can make your night memorable."

I wait, breath held, as he looks at my letter. "Well, Ms. Michaels, you're certainly committed to your work. I admire that. I'll read this over, but as my assistant told you, we have already commissioned another company to plan the party."

"Yes, I understand. But I couldn't walk away without giving it one last try."

He smiles. "That will get you far in life. Have a good day."

He closes the door, and my bones turn to Jell-O. I thank the concierge and text Vi, thanking her for the connection, then continue my sales pitch down the Strip.

I've handed out a dozen cards when I stop in front of
the
hotel. The one I met Sebastian in. I take a deep breath and brace myself, then walk into the cool, air-conditioned lobby.

I expect everything to remind me of him, and it does. And I'm not emotionally prepared.

I bite my lip to keep from crying and walk faster toward the concierge. He’s tall and wiry with a shock of red hair that looks like it's trying to escape his head. He smiles widely as I approach.

"Hi, I'm—"

Before I can introduce myself, he cuts me off. "Mrs. Donovan, yes! I remember you. You and your husband stayed here. It's so good to see you again. I love meeting happy couples after I've had the honor of witnessing their nuptials."

"You were at our wedding?"

He frowns for a moment, then smiles again. "Yes, of course. I helped arrange it and stayed as witness. But I understand it was an exciting evening, and there was much celebrating. It's no wonder certain memories have become a bit blurry."

I keep a smile frozen on my face and pretend I still know how to behave like a normal human being. "Yes—no, I mean, of course I remember you. Thank you so much for all of your help." The words are hard to say, like they're stuck in molasses, but I get them out and hope he doesn't notice how odd I'm behaving.

"It was my pleasure, of course. Oh! Before I forget..." He reaches under his desk and pulls out a manila envelope. "Sorry this took so long. I was going to mail these but since you're here..." He hands it to me.

"What is it?"

I open it up and pull out the contents.

"Pictures from your wedding night."

The rest of the conversation is a blur. I hand him a card, which he accepts enthusiastically, assuring me he will indeed recommend us to everyone he knows, and by the way, he also has friends at other hotels, and he'll make sure they too use Hitched for all their party needs. I thank him, assure him Sebastian and I are still happily married, and I leave.

I'm walking too fast. I know I am. But I can't breathe, and I can't stop, and I just have to get home before I am completely destroyed by what I'm holding.

Somehow I manage the drive home through a blur of tears, and I ignore Tate as I run up to my room, lock my door, blast music and collapse onto my bed.

Because apparently I'm sixteen again, but whatever.

Only then do I allow myself to finish looking at the glossy 5x7 photographs I didn't even know existed.

I expected to look like a drunken mess, since that's how I always pictured the night in my mind. But the reality of the pictures is much different.

I look… happy. So incredibly happy and free and full of life and joy and hope.

In every picture, Sebastian and I are together—smiling, laughing, kissing, loving.

And as I flip through them, the memories finally emerge, strong and unabbreviated. Every moment of that night crashes into me. I remember our talks, how even in one night this man “got me” in a way no one else ever had. I remember the long walk where we bared our souls. Where I cried over my own loneliness and fears, where he confessed his deepest regrets, where we shared every tidbit of our lives.