This is a story about an idiot who spent years as friends with a unicorn of a woman and didn't even realize what was standing right in front of him…until she was on someone else's arm.
My dashboard lights up. Rocky calling again. And again, I ignore it. Why the fuck does this asshole keep calling me?
Sera’s been pressuring him to play nice. She says she wants us to be friends.
Ha! Fat chance.
I never liked the guy. We’ve played for rival football teams for years. And now that he’s about to marry Sera, the possibility of a friendship between us is basically down to zilch.
“You gonna answer that?” Knox asks, both brows lifted.
“Nah. We’re almost at the courthouse. Rocky can say whatever he needs to say to me when we’re face to face.”
Declan and Knox share another telepathic glance.
I chuckle and casually shove more mozzarella in my mouth. “If the two of you keep looking at each other like that, your periods are gonna sync up. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“You’re an idiot,” Knox mumbles in the seat next to me. He takes a gulp from his heavy takeout cup before dropping it into the drink holder. “You just don’t know how good a real, committed relationship can feel. Love. Trust. Devotion."
Declan shakes his head back and forth vigorously. “Don't listen to this guy. He did all the love and kids and marriage crap. Look where it got him…”
I sneak a glance at Knox and cringe. He does look pretty rough. Scruffy beard, puffy dark circles around his eyes, he doesn't smell all that great, either. “Yeah, buddy. I don't think you're in any shape to be giving relationship advice,” I say with a cringe.
Knox thrusts a middle finger in my general direction. He lays his skull against the headrest and covers his face with his baseball cap. "Fuck you both. I need a nap..."
I chuckle but the sound is hollow. "Would the two of you relax? Sera’s just my best friend’s bratty kid sister. I'm not secretly in love with her..." That's my official line and I'm sticking to it. Fuck what my stupid heart says.
I'm trying to shed the bad boy image. I'm trying to grow the hell up. I'm trying to not be a shitty human being.
Wrecking my friend's wedding because I'm suddenly 'overcome' by emotions I never bothered to explore in the nearly two decades that we've been friends? That is unquestionably some asshole shit. And Sera deserves better from me.
So I'm here to be the nice guy. The guy who'll crack stupid jokes when she gets nervous before the ceremony and tell her she looks gorgeous when she second-guesses her wedding dress and walk her down the aisle because she trusted me enough to ask.
I'm not here to crash the wedding. I'm here to be the bride's friend.
I can do this. With suppression and denial and booze, I can do this.
Because Seraphine Rodriguez is amazing and all I want is to see her happy. Even if it's with another man.
I pull up to the curb outside the courthouse. Sera is standing with her best friends at the top of the wide concrete staircase, her back facing the street.
Her dress is a simple satiny thing that matches the crown of tiny, pale flowers in her dark hair. The hem floats around her knees when she spins around holding a small bouquet in her hands.
And there she is. The Sweetheart of Sin Valley. The nickname really suits her.
She spots me exiting my car and she releases a giant exhale, like she’d been holding her breath for a long time. She adjusts her glasses on her nose and a tiny, genuine, adorable, terrified smile slowly pours across her lips.
That’s when everything changes.
A switch trips inside my brain. A meteor shower of feelings comes raining down on me. And in this moment, I know I can’t do it. I can’t watch her marry that douchebag. No way.
Keep it together, man! the reasonable, responsible part of me shrieks. Keep it together!
“Nah. Fuck the whole nice guy act.”
I might be a selfish asshole. Fine. I can live with that. But I can’t live with watching her ride off into the sunset with the wrong man.
I jump out of the car and leap up the courthouse stairs—two at a time—ignoring the warning sounds of Knox and Declan calling my name from the street behind me.
“Don’t be that guy, Jace!”
“Come on, dude! You’re better than that.”
“Leave it alone, bro!”
You were doing so well…My inner guidance counsellor wails ruefully. You were doing so well…
My heart is beating crazier than it ever has. A stream of sweat is trickling down my neck. But fuck it all. I’m not backing down now.
Because who am I kidding? I’ve never been the nice guy. I’ve never been a pushover. I’m the guy who takes what he wants.
And Sera? Maybe, just maybe, she was always supposed to be mine.
Two
Sera
So much boob sweat. Oh my gosh. So much boob sweat.
The screen of my phone is slick and clammy when I pull it out of my cleavage for the fifty-seventh time in the past two minutes. With shaking fingers, I wipe the device on the blush-toned silk of my dress.
“Sera!” My mother hisses incredulously. “You did not just clean your cellphone on your wedding dress!” She circles around me, reverently smoothing down the now-wrinkled fabric.
For weeks, I trudged through bridal boutiques, trying—and failing—to find a wedding dress fit for a fairytale ceremony.
Less than forty-eight hours ago when Rocky and I decided to skip the big, traditional wedding and elope, I bought this simple knee-length silk wrap-around from a shopping app for second-hand bridal gowns. Then I sat on pins and needles, praying the package would arrive on time.
When the mailman showed up on my doorstep this morning—Renewed Gowns mailer box in hand—I almost collapsed into his arms, weeping with relief.
The past few weeks have zoomed by at turbo speed. It’s been a whirlwind—announcing our engagement, searching for a venue, organizing a seating chart, negotiating a prenup. It was all so overwhelming but I was determined to make it happen. For Rocky’s sake.
He wanted the wedding out of the way before the start of his football season. So he and I decided at the last minute to scrap all the typical wedding arrangements and hightail it down to the courthouse for a quickie ceremony.
But now that the moment of truth is finally here, things seem to be crawling at the pace of molasses.
My eyes linger on my phone screen. Nothing. Zero missed calls. Zero new text messages. Not even a Sorry, I’m running late meme in my social media DMs. Nothing.
I shoot out another quick text, begging him to, Please hurry up. Please. The message gets marked as ‘read’ immediately. I wait for the three jumping dots to appear. But they don’t.
Oh my god. This can’t be happening.
I’m encased in white shapewear that sucks everything in and pushes all my curves to just the right places. Beneath all this spandex and nylon, my stomach is in an anxiety-induced knot. “Mom, the condition of my dress is the least of my problems right this minute,” I mumble under my breath as I discreetly bat her hands away.
Fanning my flushed chest with my bouquet, I glance over my shoulder—again—to scan the steady trickle of vehicles meandering past the Sin Valley courthouse. Still no sign of him.
The faint prickle behind my eyeballs intensifies ever so slightly as I slide my phone back into my bra. But I refuse to cry. Because I’m wearing lashes that extend all the way up to my eyebrows and a whole lot of gunky makeup that isn’t exactly conducive to emotional outbursts.
I turn back to my tiny wedding party. My older sister, Katrina, and my childhood best friend, Minka, take turns rubbing my back in soothing strokes. My mother is off on the sidelines chatting nervously with Granny Bellino, the sweet old lady who’s been Mom’s next-door neighbor for as long as we’ve lived in Sin Valley.
Desiree and Nadia from my office hover at the staircase railing, eyes glued to the street, anxious loo
ks on their faces. Our billionaire boss, Liam, has the deepest scowl on his face. He keeps alternating between checking his expensive watch and typing furiously on his phone. The stoic bastard hates when people waste his time.
A few of Rocky’s guy friends stand by awkwardly, not sure how to fill the tense silence. My groom’s parents huddle by the courthouse doors, mumbling to each other and looking horrified. Appropriately so.
I try to take comfort in the fact that we’re still four minutes away from five o’clock. There’s still time for Rocky to show up. Right? I mean, some of our guests are still on the road. Jace and the other guys should be here any minute. My big brother, Wyatt, called to say he’s on his way here from the military base but he’s not sure he’ll get here before the ceremony starts. The point is, there’s still time for Rocky to turn up.
A cool palm lands on my forearm and I swing my gaze to find Katrina eyeballing me worriedly. “You okay, sis? Should I go grab you a water bottle?”
My gaze scans the surroundings again. Strangers mill around, going in and out of the courthouse. Some in flip-flops and board shorts. Some in oh-so-serious business attire. Some in formal wedding wear. Hell, I even saw some muscled-up dude strut by confidently in a sequinned bodysuit and a feathered headdress, along with dad sandals, checkered socks and a live turkey tucked under his arm.
This is Sin Valley. Things don’t always make sense. It’s best not to judge.
But nowhere in the frolicking crowd is my fiancé.
I shake my head. “No. I’m okay. I just…” I lower my voice and search my sister’s eyes like somehow she has all the answers. “What’s taking him so long?”
I’m not a particularly anxious person but any bride would be freaking out under these circumstances. I run my fingertips along my forehead where my damp tendrils are matted to my skin.
My mother swoops in again. “Mija, stop pulling on your hair. You’re sweating out your French twist.” She blots my hairline with a warm, soggy tissue. She’s not trying to be annoying. Promise. This is how she gets when she’s nervous. When she sees me nervous.
Mom is just a natural caretaker. Maybe it’s because she has devoted herself to her work as a geriatric nurse at the Sin Valley Memorial Hospital for the past thirteen years. Maybe it’s because she felt she had to double-down on her maternal affection after my dad chose his love affair with whiskey over his wife and three kids during my childhood. Regardless of the reason, my mother, Christina Rodriguez, is the most compassionate person I know.
The adorable, little courthouse clerk sticks her head out the tall, wooden double doors. Her kind stare falls on me. “Are you almost ready, sweetheart? Judge Garner is heading up to his lake house tonight. He’d like to get out of here soon.”
I swallow back the shame prickling my esophagus like thistle weeds and force a smile. “Just a few minutes. We’ll be right inside.”
The woman gives me a pitying expression and disappears back inside the courthouse.
I address my gathering of guests with a forced smile. “I-I’m sure he’s just running late.” I fan my chest with my flowers. A cascade of freesia petals drizzles to my rhythmically tapping feet. “It’s rush hour. He’s probably stuck in traffic on the Strip. You know how it gets at this time of the day.”
They watch me sympathetically. They feel sorry for me. They all know what’s happening but they’re too polite to utter it out loud.
He’s probably stuck in traffic on the Strip. He’s probably stuck in traffic on the Strip.
Maybe if I repeat the words enough times I’ll somehow make them true. But the truth is, I have no freaking clue where my groom is.
He was here and he literally just disappeared. We showed up at the marriage license office next door to the courthouse two hours ago to pick up our marriage license. Because the wedding plans were so last minute, we hadn’t had time to get that done before today. Rocky had thought it best to get here early to beat the late-afternoon crowds. Sin Valley is a popular destination for elopements, so although the marriage license department is open 24/7, you never know when you’ll run into a long line-up.
We’d been walking to the cafeteria to pass the time after filling out the required paperwork. Some girl had popped up out of nowhere and said ‘hi’ to my fiancé. A fan, I’d presumed. A flash of uneasiness had slashed through my stomach when I saw the pointed look she’d given Rocky, but I quickly pushed the feeling away. She was beautiful and had the most amazing set of tits I’d ever seen up close but I’m used to him getting female attention. He’s a freaking NFL quarterback. He always has fans hanging around. I’m used to it. So, I thought nothing of it when I’d excused myself to use the washroom.
Except, when I got back to the cafeteria, Rocky was gone. And I haven’t been able to reach him since.
I can’t believe this is happening. What did I do to deserve this? The prickling in my eyes intensifies. Tears of embarrassment begin to gather, stinging as they mix with my mascara. Great. Now my eyeballs are sweating, too.
When the sound of a roaring engine fills the air, my heart soars with hope. I feel my shoulders cramp with tension. I spin toward the road.
Through my foggy vision, I catch sight of the candy red sports car pulling up to the curb. I release an exhale and the slightest smile flickers across my lips. Jace bounds out of his car in the direction of the courthouse and I’m vaguely aware of Declan and Knox shouting from the street behind him. I don’t know what the guys are saying because I’m so focused on my friend, praying that he has some of the answers I need.
Jace heads straight for me like a heat-seeking missile. Eyes moving up and down my wedding dress, he thunders into my personal space. “Wow…You look…Sera, wow…” He tries to say more but he seems unable to put words together.
Unbalanced by his intensity, I stumble a step backward. “Th-thank you…”
It’s not the first compliment I’ve received today. I’m the bride after all. It’s practically a social requirement to make nice comments to a woman on her wedding day. But coming from Jace, it feels different somehow. He just has this ‘way’ about him. Must be those damn dimples.
Anyway, it takes a real charming bastard to make a bride forget—even for a split second—that she’s in the process of getting jilted at the altar.
My girlfriends circle closer, shooting questions at Jace. He doesn’t even seem to notice them. His attention is honed on me in an intense, direct, nerve-wringing way that makes me even more uneasy. What the hell is going on with him?
His fingers curl around my wrist. “Sera—we need to talk. Now.”
He moves down the staircase with a determined gait, tugging me along with him. More tears gather, blurring my vision behind my glasses as I run through the possibilities for what he might be about to say.
When he’s satisfied that we have some privacy, Jace speaks. “Look—I know the timing is shit and I’m probably an asshole for saying this but—”
“He’s not coming, is he?” I cut off my friend’s words.
He pauses. His brows furrow. He gives me a perplexed look.
I lift my glasses and run my fingertips through my tears. “Rocky isn’t coming today? He’s not going to marry me? That’s what you’re going to tell me, right?”
Jace narrows his eyes at me in confusion. “What are you talking about, Sera?”
I drop my eyes to the concrete beneath our feet, too ashamed to look him in the face as I speak. “Rocky left…”
His finger curled under my chin, Jason lifts my face. “Wait—Rocky isn’t here?”
With a shrug, I shake my head back and forth. My trembling lips move wordlessly and I feel absolutely helpless as embarrassed tears spill down.
Jace glances back toward my wedding party. He scans the crowd. When his gaze meets mine again, his eyes are a black inferno of rage.
I find myself rambling. “He disappeared on me and I have no idea where he is and we have a dozen guests waiting to see us get married and Judge Garner�
�s trying to beat the traffic up to his lake cabin and…” My words trail off. “I think I’m being stood up, Jace.”
I watch his Adam’s apple bob when he swallows. His fingers go tighter around my wrist. So much passes between us as we stand there silently, neither of us knowing what to say next.
This is surreal. It’s like I’m watching a badly scripted movie of my life play out before my eyes. I need to have a talk with the writer. This is not the right ending. Someone got it wrong.
“Hey, man. Can you come here a second?” At the sound of Declan’s voice, I glance up to find him hovering over Jace’s shoulder.
“I’m in the middle of something,” Jace growls, his eyes never leaving my face.
Declan takes a step closer, a phone outstretched to his older brother. His eyes flick to mine, full of pity as he speaks to Jace. “You left your phone in the car and this text message came through. You’re gonna wanna see it, bro. Right now. Trust me.”
Jace grabs the device from his brother and just before my friend storms away, I catch a glimpse at the text message sitting on his screen.
One little sentence kicks my whole world off its axis.
Rocky: Tell Sera I’m sorry…
Three
Jace
What the fuck is going on here…? People breeze up and down the courthouse steps as I stare at the message on the phone in my hand.
Rocky: Tell Sera I’m sorry…
Before I have a second to make sense of any of this, the phone is ringing. It's Rocky’s number on the screen again.
This can't be happening...
I glance around to make sure I have privacy. If Rocky is about to say something dumb to me, I don’t want a crowd of wedding guests to witness it. And I especially don’t want Sera hearing it.
I jab at the screen and half a second later, Rocky's face fills the device.
"Where the fuck are you?" My voice bursts out forcefully enough to make the older couple exiting the building jolt. Rocky is pushing through a crowded space, the fluorescent lights overhead glaring down on the screen. Sure as hell doesn't look like anywhere near this courthouse.
Playing House: A Small Town Brother’s Best Friend Romance (The Playboys of Sin Valley Book 1) Page 2