She didn’t take it from me, but with her hands tucked into the pockets of her yellow hoodie, she leaned down to take a whiff. It was like watching an animal sniff out something, her nose moving all around to detect what she was looking for. After a minute, she took another step back and she shrugged.
“Sorry,” she said.
“Shit,” I shouted. “Is there someone else here who can help me? I mean, how can you work in a perfume shop and not smell shit?”
An elderly woman rushed out from a side door, stepping next to the girl helping me. “What is all that yelling?”
“This guy,” she said, pointing at me, “is being weird because I can’t smell his girlfriend on the shirt he brought in.”
“I wasn’t being weird. I only wanted—”
“Get out,” the elderly woman said, cutting me off. “I don’t tolerate anyone talking to my employees that way.”
My head turned all around, seeing the staring eyes of the other customers and the looks of judgment. I placed Evelyn’s shirt back into my pocket and quickly exited the store.
I was fucking out of my mind. The insanity, the anger, drove into me until at certain times I crashed into a brick wall. An out-of-control wreck and I was barely a survivor. I picked up my sagging jeans, all of my clothes fitting looser and looser since I could barely eat and had quit working out. I shaved my beard because every time I looked at myself in the mirror, every time I touched it, it reminded me of how much Evelyn loved it. Her touch was all over it, and it got to the point when it was another memory that made me crazed. Food, people, my thoughts all left me sick, and I preferred to stay empty of all of it.
I stepped off the elevator at the floor of my apartment and could see Aaron standing next to my door. The hits were going to keep coming, but like the poison I chose to swallow, I had to keep taking the ramifications.
“So, I hear congratulations are in order,” Aaron said, following me into the apartment. “I wish I could say Callie or Evelyn send the same kind of best wishes, but they’re not quite there yet.”
It was bound to happen, but I wanted it to be in my own time. I certainly didn’t want it to be when Evelyn accidently found out and went to Aaron and Callie.
Who the hell was I kidding? There wasn’t going to be a good time or any time that would make sense.
I was never much of an actor, but I was going to have to put on an Academy Award–winning performance in front of the person who knew me best. The backing behind was solid, though, and I knew that was what would carry me through. Protecting him, Callie, Delilah, and everyone close to me was worth it. I just hated myself for the way I was going to have to make sure that happened.
I unzipped my coat and tossed it on the couch before plopping myself down next to it. “I was going to tell you.”
“That’s good to know. I’d hate to be the last to know my brother is getting married to someone I never met or even heard of until recently.”
“Her name is Dafne,” I said.
He shrugged. “I didn’t ask. I’m sure she’s a bystander in whatever the hell you’re doing, so I don’t mean to disrespect your future bride, but the whole thing reeks of shit.”
I rubbed at my temples. “Do we have to do this now?”
“Would you prefer we waited until the rehearsal dinner?”
I hated that he was mocking me, but I was going to take it. I was going to take whatever judgment and anger he was going to dish out. His stepped in front of me and folded his arms across his chest. He was waiting.
“No. I suppose you’ll meet her before then,” I said.
“You sound thrilled. Now, cut the bullshit, and tell me what the hell you’re doing.”
“I don’t seem to remember me getting this pissy when you decided to marry Lexie and we all knew what a fuckup that was going to turn into.”
His nostrils flared at the mention of Lexie, his ex-wife. “I dated Lexie for a while. We were having a baby, and while in retrospect marriage wasn’t the right thing to do, it was hardly a surprise.”
I was trying to be aloof, almost callous because it was the only way for me to remain detached and handle this. It was the only way without Aaron, the person who knew me best, seeing right through me. It would take so little for my resolve to break, to want to tell him everything, but doing so would only put him in danger. Benji made that clear.
“Whatever,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You justify your marriage your way, and I’ll justify mine my way.”
“And what kind of justification would yours be, Abel? There’s are a lot of us that would like to know.”
“I’m getting married. Dafne is going to be my wife. Is that good enough for you?”
“No, but if it is for the both of you, then there isn’t much else to say.”
“Oh, hell. Say it, Aaron,” I yelled. “Go ahead and fucking say it. You’re probably coming all over your expensive boxers right now with how bad you want it.”
“It’s nothing I haven’t had to say before,” he said calmly. “I’ve come to accept the fact you and I are going to lead our lives in very different ways.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means you’re going to live your life for you. I’ll never understand the choices you make, but I don’t have to. You’ll have to.”
“You’re talking like a fucking psychologist. Talk to me like a brother! Tell me what you’re thinking!”
I could see it building with every breath he took, all he was holding in, and he was right on the edge. He needed a push, and luckily for him, I had nothing else to lose.
“Remember when I found you drunk and stupid when you threw Callie out,” I said, standing up and stepping up close to him. “When I told you what an asshole you were being? I told you what you needed to hear. Fucking give me the same respect. Fucking. Say. It.”
“You knocked her up, didn’t you?” he asked, glaring at me.
“No.”
“You don’t have to marry her. If you haven’t learned that from all I went through with Lexie, then you weren’t paying very close attention.”
“She’s not pregnant.”
He ran his hands through his hair and shook his head. “Then you’ve lost me, Abel. If she’s the one, I’ll treat her like a sister-in-law, but after seeing you with Evelyn, I have a hard time believing it.”
“Please don’t say her name,” I warned. “I’ve lost her because I fucked up, and the only way I know how to save even a little bit of the respect she might still have for me is to move on.”
Aaron’s mouth contorted in a disgusted expression. “That’s so twisted. Respect? You’re marrying someone else. She’s heartbroken.”
“And you don’t think that kills me,” I said. I pressed the palms of my hands into my eyes. “I hate that I hurt her. I fucking hate myself for doing it, but all I can hold on to is the hope she’ll forgive me someday.”
Forgive me. That was laughable. She hated me by now. She had to.
I released my hands from my eyes, and as my vision began to focus, I could make out Aaron shaking his head. “What the hell have you gotten yourself into, Abel? None of this makes sense. You don’t love this other girl.”
I didn’t. He knew it, too.
I took in a deep breath, desperate to find the strength I needed to continue. “It all became bigger than us, Evelyn and I.”
“What became bigger?” he asked, confused. “Make me understand. I’ll be right there with you. You know that.”
I did. He would. I knew he would, but it wasn’t worth the risk. It was why I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t tell him I’d fucked up. Again.
It was the same reason I couldn’t tell Evelyn I was marrying Dafne. The ship was sinking, and I was saving her while I helplessly drowned. I hurt her, would continue to hurt her, in the most unimaginable way. Knowing that was bad enough, but my own sadness, the realization of all I was losing, compounded it. There was no room in the equation for me to be selfish, to think about
how this decision was affecting my life, because there were too many other people who I loved more than myself to protect.
It was a lose-lose situation.
“What can I do, Abel?” he asked.
“Be my best man.”
Chapter Twenty-One
EVELYN—
You’ve been working crazy hours so how about if I take you for a drink?” Bridget asked. “And before you say anything, we won’t go to WET.”
I wanted to decline, but I knew I needed to get out. A drink would probably do me good and seemed like a better option than binging on reality shows and eating my weight in Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal, which was what I was doing every night. “Okay,” I said. “And it’s a Tuesday. He usually doesn’t work on Tuesdays, so I don’t care if we go there.”
I wasn’t sure what possessed me to say that, but all I could figure was I was trying to prove how strong I was. I didn’t want Bridget, or anyone for that matter, to see how badly I’d fallen apart over Abel. Showing up there with my head held high would get back to him, and the added bonus was I was saving face in front of my boss.
“Are you sure?” she asked with raised eyebrows. “I can call and make sure he isn’t.”
I shrugged even though it was a good idea.
Her long red fingernails tapping against the buttons as she dialed and waited for an answer. “Marshall? Hey, honey, it’s Bridget. Look, I have a quick question,” she said, eyeballing me. “And I don’t mean to put you on the spot. I want to stop in with Evelyn and—”
She paused as I detected Marshall’s voice through the receiver. She nodded at me and gave me the thumbs-up. I breathed a sigh of relief because it was going to be a lot easier knowing for sure he wasn’t working.
“Thanks, honey. I’ll see you soon.”
She dropped the phone in her purse and put her hands on her hips. “He’s not there. Let’s go get you tipsy.”
I hadn’t stepped onto that side of the building since I’d been home. There was always a fear I’d see him or some memory would hit me too hard. We rushed toward the star, the cold wind blowing through us, but when I didn’t see it, I stopped.
“Where is it?” I asked.
“What?”
“The star. Did I miss it?”
“You’re a few steps short, and it’s not a star anymore,” she said, smiling. “They added a little something new.”
I followed behind her until she paused on a white dandelion painted on the ground. I stood above it, my eyes tracing the white floaties drawn next to it, looking like they were being taken off by the wind.
“I know a star wasn’t anything big, but I have no idea why they’d put a weed here instead. What do you think it means?”
“Wishes,” I mumbled. I lifted my head and faced her. “Someone wants you to follow the wishes.”
I had no way of knowing if it had anything to do with us. It probably didn’t, but it still stung seeing it there. Bridget knocked at the door, and it opened immediately, a grinning Tyler holding it open for us.
“Well, look at you two strangers looking as beautiful as ever,” he said.
I smiled because the voices in my head telling me this was a bad idea left me speechless. He gave me a knowing nod, almost pathetic, like I was going to fall apart right in front of him.
“You don’t need to walk us, sweetie,” Bridget said. “We got it.”
“If you say so. Enjoy, ladies,” he said with a wink.
Bridget threaded her arm through mine. “Less talk. More drinking, right?”
“Yes, please.”
I thought it would be okay, but it wasn’t. Stepping back into the dimly lit room made it even clearer I had no business being there. It was all too soon. It was too soon for the back of the mirrored bar and the candles reflecting against the martini glasses. It was too soon for Marshall to put his arms around me and tell me Abel was a fuckup. Bridget did her best to shoo it all away, but the only savior was a Marshall Manhattan.
“Do you think I’m pathetic?” I asked Bridget. We were tucked in the very end of the bar, out of view of most people.
“No, and before you ask, yes. I would tell you if you were.”
I drained what was left of Manhattan number three before my unsteady hand placed the glass back on the bar with a thud. Bridget eyed me above her own cocktail, a dirty martini with two olives.
“Pathetic, no,” she said. “But I do think you’re drunk.”
I waved my hand around. “Nah. I can hold it fine.”
“Is that so? Then why is your ass so close to the edge of the chair? You’re going to fall off.”
“I was starting to get up. I have to go tinkle,” I said, sliding off the stool. “Be right back.”
The mixture of drinking so quickly and the fact I hadn’t been eating much did in fact make the drinks hit me harder than normal. I was unsteady as I made my way to the bathroom, balancing myself by holding on to the sides of the walls as I made my way down the hallway. Girls had it good when it came to the pissing thing, especially when drunk. We got to sit down, gather our thoughts for a minute, and do our business. I wondered how guys kept their aim on target when loaded. I giggled to myself as I washed my hands, considering what the inside of a men’s room might look like, or worse, what it smelled like. I was going to ask Bridget her opinion on the matter, but I heard her shouting the moment I exited the bathroom. Making sure I wasn’t going to face-plant, I hurried back down the hallway, my feet dragging against the carpet.
I peeked around the corner, and my heart stopped.
“You stupid asshole,” Bridget said coolly. She picked up her drink and took a sip. “I hope for her sake she enjoys sleeping with garbage every night because that’s what you are. Vile garbage.”
Abel recoiled at her words, the sting written all over his face. His shoulders slumped down, his once-fitted, white work shirt hung loose. He looked like a mess, and while I should’ve been pleased, it only made things harder.
He turned his head, and when his eyes met mine, there was nothing coming off him. No deep dimples. No excited eyes at seeing me. It was like he didn’t even know me.
“He’s covering for someone else tonight,” Bridget said. “Marshall didn’t know until now. Let’s go.”
“No. I want to finish our drinks,” I said, glaring at him. “I won’t let him ruin anything else for me.”
“Marshall,” she shouted. “Get this stupid fuck out of my face before there is blood all over your bar.”
Abel raised his hands in surrender and backed away. I watched as he headed back to the bar, leaned over it to whisper something in Marshall’s ear before disappearing down the hallway.
“Okay, well, that’s over. If I can’t make you leave, at least let’s do a shot of tequila to take the edge of whatever you’re feeling right now.”
“I’m not feeling anything.” I shrugged. “Nothing at all.”
She snorted. “Yeah, right. You’re a liar. You look like…a frazzled llama…or something equally terrible. Plus, you need to get your hair done. Seriously.”
I needed to hang in there long enough for everyone to think that running into Abel didn’t affect me. If that meant doing a shot of tequila or two, which is how Bridget wanted it, I was going to do it. It wasn’t a smart idea, considering how drunk I already was, but I wanted to be able to keep up a good front.
“Okay,” Bridget said. “Are we done here?”
“Thank God, yes.”
“Let me run to the ladies’ room, and we’re out of here.” She leaned over to whisper in my ear, “I’m proud of you, sweetie.”
Mission accomplished.
I breathed in a sigh of relief knowing I’d made it. I made it and was still standing. Well, I was hopeful I’d be standing. There was no telling what was going to happen when I got up from the stool, but judging from the way I was rocking back and forth on it, walking might be a problem.
I dug through my wallet that I had sitting on the bar, wanting to leave
a little something extra for Marshall in addition to what Bridget already gave. My eyes were trying to focus on the numbers on the cash, but my vision shifted when a hand I recognized slid something in front of me. By the time my eyes lifted, Abel’s back was already to me, exiting the back of the bar.
I glanced down, and it was white cocktail napkin with WET embossed in gold lettering across the middle. It was like all the other napkins there. Confused, I leaned in closer and could see ink dots soaking through the front of the napkin. I flipped it over, and there, written in Abel’s chicken scratch handwriting, it said, “I’m sorry.”
I stared at the words, the ink running into the paper and making smudges. Tears came to the surface of my eyes, blurring all the words together into one big mess. Why did he have to do this to me? I was doing so well and now…I was not.
I needed to get away before I made a scene, crying and making everyone uncomfortable. I stood up and steadied myself on my heels before I attempted to walk. Gripping the side of the bar, I inched down the length of it until I bumped into Bridget.
“Whoa,” she said, grabbing me by the shoulders. “You need a pit stop, too?”
I looked behind her, and Abel was up against the hallway wall, one foot propped up behind him. His head hung low as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
It wasn’t the tears I needed to hold in anymore. I pushed past Bridget, stumbling on my right heel before I ended up leaving the whole shoe behind so I could make it to the bathroom.
I did make it, but only as far as the sink before I vomited everything I’d been holding in. All the booze, heartache, and loss came out when my body couldn’t take it anymore. Looking at myself in the mirror above the sink, my face blotchy and my eye makeup smudged, I didn’t recognize myself at all. I was a wreck, standing with one shoe on, in a bar bathroom, puking over my ex-boyfriend. I was like a deranged Cinderella who lost one of her glass slippers, waiting for her prince to return it. Too bad my life was nothing like a fairy tale anymore.
* * *
Dreams were like listening to your favorite radio station. You turned it on, and more times than not, you were okay with whatever played. However, there were times when no matter how long you listened, the most dreadful tunes played one right after the other. My dream state after returning from WET and flopping down onto my bed was like the bad songs on my favorite radio station. A horrible dream about having to be a bridesmaid during Abel and Dafne’s wedding. I was pleased when the banging of the drumline following them out of the church wasn’t part of the dream, but someone knocking loudly at my front door.
So Screwed Page 23