Love is not patient, or kind. Love is fucking stupid.
Ashley is a mess. A beautiful mess, nonetheless, but her nerves have been through the roof all morning. The one advantageous of a jittery bride: distraction. Tending to Ash has kept my mind off what to do next, but Lane is still at the forefront of my thoughts.
Before I headed over to Ashley’s parents’ place this morning, I awoke to a vague text from Lane in response to my apologetic message from last night. It simply read, I don’t hate you.
I took that as a good sign; a great one, actually. But what good is him not hating me if he’s not willing to talk it out and give me a chance to grovel at his feet? Ashley shrieks from behind the bathroom door, where she’s been holed up for a good fifteen minutes taking a shower, “Leni!”
I jump off the bed, dive for the door, and press my ear to it. “Yes, dear?”
“I need you.” It’s a muffled whine.
“I’m right here, babe. What’s up?”
“No, I need you. Like, in here. Now.”
“Ash, I love you and all and you’re totally the sister I never had, but save the peep show for later when you get freaky with my brother.” The thought has me cringing, but her scream straightens me right up.
“Madeline! Get your ass in here!”
“Okay, okay.” I don’t want to mess with the bride on her big day, even though we’re running behind schedule and should’ve been at the studio twenty minutes ago, so I bite my tongue and barge into the bathroom.
“Holy parting of the Red Sea! What the hell did you do? Murder someone while you were in the shower? I left you alone for ten minutes, Norman Bates—are you okay?” I rush over to her when I see the puddle of blood on the white tile floor.
She releases an exasperated sigh. “I’m fine, but my wedding night and the honeymoon is ruined and I don’t have a single pad or tampon anywhere. Do you think you can send someone out to get some?”
There’s no one to send. Her mother is already at the studio with my mother, her dad is with the guys at my parents’ house, and the only one left is little ol’ me. “This is why I told you a one-woman bridal party was not a good idea.”
“Leni.” Ashley tilts her head and scowls, wrapping the blood stained towel even tighter around her damp body.
“Your mother doesn’t have anything lying around?” I rummage through the medicine cabinet and then under the sink.
“Don’t you think I already looked? She went through menopause forever ago. There’s nothing here.”
I stand up and commence pacing. “Okay, okay. Let’s think. Where are your underwear?” I scan the large bathroom and find a pile of neatly stacked clothes on a vanity bench.
I go to get them, but Ashley interrupts with another squeal, “No! We can’t use those. They’re my something blue. I don’t want to ruin them.” Ashley has tears in her eyes and a trail of blood leaking down her leg. If I didn’t love her so much, I’d be totally grossed out.
“All right. Calm down. What to do. What to do.” I tap my finger against my fidgeting lips, praying for a miracle.
“Give me yours,” Ashley blurts out, an idea flashing across her worried face.
“Huh?”
“Your underwear. Give ’em to me. I’ll wrap some toilet paper around them and we can grab what we need from the store on the way to the studio. Come on. Strip. Now, Len.”
At first I’m quite appalled, but on second thought . . . this probably qualifies as something a maid-of-honor is expected to do when the bride is suddenly cursed with a visit from Aunt Flo the morning of her wedding.
“You’re lucky they’re clean.” Without further thought, I remove my sweats and shimmy the white cotton down my legs.
“They won’t be for long,” Ashley sings, reaching out with grabby hands.
“You realize how disgusting this whole ordeal is, don’t you?” Turning as Ashley drops the towel to get dressed, I put my own pants back on and uncontrollable giggles escape me.
“This is so not funny.”
“It kind of is.” I snort. “Just think, this will be some story for your grandkids.”
“What? That their grandmother got the period of all periods and it ruined the happiest day of her life?”
“No, that their Great Aunt Leni came to the rescue and shared her granny panties with Granny Ashley in her time of desperation. And this day is not ruined. It didn’t even start yet.” I’m quick to make that point so Ashley doesn’t let this minor setback spoil how happy she’s supposed to be. How happy she’s been up until this very moment.
After we’re both dressed, I turn to her and notice that despite her having to ride the crimson wave on the most important day of her existence, she’s glowing. If there was ever a person who knows how to make lemonade when life hands you lemons, it’s Ashley. I freaking love this girl. “You look beautiful, you know?” I smile with pride.
“Beautiful? I’m a mess!” With no makeup, her hair thrown into a messy bun, and wedding-day nerves written across her flawless face, she’s still the picture of perfection. My brother finally did something right when he met this girl and made her his. I can’t imagine being his wife will be easy or that putting up with the entire Moore clan will be a walk in the park, but I thank my lucky stars every day that Ashley is a part of my life. And today she becomes a real-deal part of my family.
“You ready to get hitched, chica?” Before I get all emotional and allow the waterworks to get the best of me, I hook my arm in Ashley’s and usher her out of the bathroom.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
I kiss her cheek and hug her close with one arm around her shoulder. “But first . . . let’s plug you up.”
“Only me.” She brings her hand up to cover her eyes and shakes her head.
“Ash, have you met me and my shitty luck? The day of my wedding—if that day ever actually comes—I’ll probably be blessed with a face full of zits, wind up with a nasty bout of explosive diarrhea, and even if it’s the middle of the summer, there’ll be a blizzard. Mark my words.”
Ashley clicks her tongue, dismissing my negativity. “Oh, ye hath little faith, Leni. Your day will be perfect, because it’s what you deserve. And speaking of your day, don’t think I’ve been too preoccupied with this wedding to forget about what’s going on with you and Lane. Once we get me some cooter corks, you’ve got lots of explaining to do. I’m not complaining about the wasted plate, but my maid-of-honor should have a hot date at her side tonight and I intend to get to the bottom of this before I walk down the aisle. So, while you make me pretty and keep me calm, I want to hear every last detail, including why you’ve been holding onto your phone like it’s the Holy Grail all morning.”
Leave it to this girl to bring everything to light on a day when all attention should be on her and her alone.
“Will you marry me instead of Reynold? I have a total girl crush on you, Ash.” I wink, playfully nudging her arm.
“I’m flattered, but you and I both know that you and your heart belong with Lane. I’m as sure of you two as I am of me and Reynold. You’ll see.”
Hope. That funny four letter word sneaks up on me and spreads like wildfire. Ashley doesn’t have a crystal ball and she certainly can’t tell the future, but if I can just steal half of her optimism, all hope for me and Lane is definitely not lost.
JESUS, TALK ABOUT A BLUBBERING fool.
It started when Reynold nearly lost it the first time he saw Ashley as she walked down the aisle. He cried like a baby, which caused a domino effect of emotions amongst me, Mom, Dad and the rest of the guests with compassionate, beating hearts. Then, their hand-written vows to each other were so deeply heartfelt that my stomach coiled in knots at the fear that something this amazing might never come my way. I had him, but stupid me, I let him go, and no matter how happy I am for my baby brother and Ashley, I was feeling sorry for myself as they shared their first kiss as husband and wife.
But by the time the ceremony and cocktail hour ar
e over, I’m enjoying myself the way any maid-of-honor should—in the damn bathroom, helping the bride pee.
“Are you done yet?” I ask from underneath three layers of crinoline.
“Yup. Just hold it up two more seconds while I switch out my thingie so I don’t die from TSS and make your brother a widower on our wedding night.”
“I’m pretty sure TSS is a myth.” I roll my eyes and turn the other way. She may be my sister now, but I didn’t sign up for this shit. Tampon-changing and ass-wiping for a grown woman—not exactly my cup of tea, but that’s what I’m here for.
When Ashley is done in the bathroom, she joins her husband off to the side where they prepare to be introduced to their guests and I make my way into the reception area to scope things out. For a wedding of this magnitude that was planned over only a few short months, everything is stunning.
The flowers Ashley chose are more elegant than anything I’ve ever seen in pictures of exotic, far-away gardens. The crystal chandeliers and diamond studded candles decorating the rustic space give it a vintage touch that’s to die for. And the DJ—one of Rey’s friends from college who travels around the world selling out venues of all types—could probably give Avicii and David Guetta a run for their money, if you ask me. I’ve only heard a taste of what he can do at the cocktail hour and already my feet are begging for more.
Securing my speech in the handy dandy pocket of my gown, I size up the place cards. I already know I’m sharing a table with my parents, grandparents, and Tatum, but when I notice Lane’s name in calligraphy next to mine on the embossed stationary, I’m instantly bummed.
I could’ve sworn she told me she was fixing that. Maybe this is her way of digging the knife even deeper into the wound. That wound that no one wants to heal more than my sister-in-law. The wound that I wish would stop throbbing for the next six hours. I only want to have a good time and deal with this tomorrow. Is that too much to ask?
“Miss Moore?” A tap on my shoulder breaks me from my Lane spell.
“Yes?”
A tuxedoed man with white gloves and an ear piece flashes a genuine smile. “We’re lining up the parents and the bridal party. The DJ will announce you shortly.”
I nod and follow his outstretched hand to where everyone is huddled around the bride and groom. As I make my way over, a whistled catcall catches my attention and I make the mistake of peering over my shoulder.
Hudson.
“Mr. Wrong Place at the Wrong Time,” I mumble to myself before waving curtly. I’m not sure why he gets under my skin the way he does. I guess I’m more on edge since my break-up with Lane, but as handsome, rich, and eligible as Hudson is, he’s not the guy I want.
Hudson nods and waves back with a pompous smolder, but keeps his distance when his eyes reach beyond me to the line of people being organized by the maître d’. My heart grows heavy and my body tenses when I realize he’ll be watching me all night and will no doubt discover that I’m here alone.
I grunt as I find the best man, our cousin Sally Boy, “This blows big, smelly, co—”
“Nice mouth. You kiss your mother with it?” Sal jokes, slicking back his enormous coif.
“Nice hair. You get any girls with it?”
Sally Boy bobs back and forth like Rocky Balboa pumping himself up for a fight. “Leni, babes, I actually have a date. Last I checked, you were going stag—again.”
He may be dumber than a box of rocks, but he isn’t wrong. “Yeah, whatever. Fuck off.” There’s nothing left to say, so I don’t. I hook my arm in his and swallow my pride. As soon as I walk into that room, I’m beelining it to the bar. I plan on consuming enough alcohol to tranquilize a horse.
Sally Boy’s date, Jenna, happens to be a great dance partner. She, Tatum, and I are killing it on the dance floor, and I’m not sure if it’s the DJ’s brilliant remixes or the bartender’s promise to keep them flowing that have me feeling like an oversized combo of J. Lo, Beyoncé, and Madonna.
Jenna throws her arms above her head, bumping and grinding in my dance space. “Did anyone ever tell you that you could be—”
“If you say a plus-sized model she’s going to impale you with her Valentinos,” Tatum is quick to say exactly what’s on my mind, but truth is, after all I’ve been through—short-lived, plus-size modeling career behind me—Jenna’s would-be compliment doesn’t piss me off the way something like that used to.
I laugh it off and continue fist pumping to the beat of the music.
“I’m sorry,” Jenna shouts into my ear. “You’re totally hot. I hope you know that.”
I pull back from Jenna, ready to slap a sloppy but appreciative kiss on her cotton candy colored lips, but I’m met with a pair of warm, thick hands on my bare shoulders.
“She is totally hot, isn’t she?”
Jenna looks like she’s seen a ghost. No, scratch that. Jenna looks as though she’s just laid eyes on Manhattan’s most eligible bachelor. Poor Sally Boy.
I don’t even have to turn around to know it’s him. “You’re a wedding crasher now?” I ask flippantly, continuing to dance with Jenna. Tatum is at the bar—again—probably ordering another round of shots. I have no desire to get tangled up in anything Hudson related tonight, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t get the memo because Hudson spins me around and pulls me against his expensive suit.
My body traitorously submits to his and my limbs turn to mush when he says, “As of an hour ago, I own the place. I’m pretty sure I can do whatever I want.”
Gulp. Why does he have to be so arrogant? It’s so goddamn sexy. “Congratulations, but you owning the place doesn’t mean you can dictate who I dance with.”
“Do you know that for sure? Did you see the contracts? I might have made a special provision, just for tonight.”
I wouldn’t put it past him, but still. I was having fun with the girls. Dancing with Hudson or even talking to him feels like I’m cheating on the boyfriend I don’t even have anymore.
Ignoring his dominant hands at my waist, I look up into his eyes to tell him I’m saving all my dances for someone else, but doing so is a huge mistake. Those eyes. So inviting. So captivating. So dilated.
And don’t get me started on the DJ. He’s switched things up from a booty slapping beat to a cheek-to-cheek melody as if he’s luring me into the arms of this stubborn man.
“Why are you doing this to me?” I practically mewl. I’d like to think my legs are weak from the workout they’ve been getting on the dance floor, but unfortunately my boogieing is not the cause of their Jell-O like state. Not only is Hudson the total package, but he’s a phenomenal dancer. Before I know it, my body is molded to his and my feet are following his lead.
“I’m not doing anything, Leni. I’m just here.”
“It seems like you’re always exactly where you shouldn’t be.”
“I’m an opportunist.”
“No, you’re obnoxious.”
He pulls back from our embrace and brings his hand to his heart. He’s trying to make it seem I’ve insulted him, but his smirk tells a different tale. “Why are you fighting this so hard? I don’t see your man anywhere around. Either he let you down and dateless for your brother’s wedding for some other selfish reason or he’s not in the picture anymore.”
I try with all my dwindling might not to answer him with a visual reaction. Instead of giving him the satisfaction he’s looking for, I lie. “He had to fly back home for a family emergency. Believe me, he wants nothing more than to be here with me.”
Hudson scans me from head to toe. I’ll never get used to the way he eats me up with his eyes and then digests what he sees like I’m an extravagant, five course meal. “He’s really missing out.”
I’m flattered that Hudson finds someone as ordinary as I am so attractive and that he’s gone to such great lengths to be in the same room as me, but it only makes me long for Lane that much more. I look down at our feet, in time, in sync, in such close proximity and the loss of Lane hits me like a ton of b
ricks all over again. “It’s me who’s missing out.”
“Fuck! You love the dude, don’t you?” Hudson stops swaying to the music and tips my chin up with his finger.
I take a deep breath and nod. “Yes. I really do. I love him.” It’s the first time the words have left my mouth and touched the air. It feels good to say them, only it sucks they’re not spoken to the right person.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so annoying.” Hudson’s usually cavalier demeanor softens and for the first time since the night we hooked up, I see a boyish charm that makes me hope we can be friends.
I gently rub his arm and then veer him off the dance floor. “Don’t be silly. You have no idea how your fruitless efforts have boosted my ego. People come into our lives for all different reasons. Your purpose has been served, my friend.”
Hudson arches a brow and straightens his already well-placed tie. “Well, before you dismiss me . . . how about a celebratory shot?” He places one hand at my back and motions to the bar with the other.
I follow his lead and ask, “What exactly are we celebrating?”
“This is a wedding, isn’t it?”
“Ah-duh.” I feel kind of stupid, come to think of it. I was so wrapped up in my own love triangle of sorts that I nearly forgot why we’re here in the first place.
Finally, at ease with the whole Hudson thing, I allow myself to relax and go with the flow. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to my family. They’re probably wondering who the debonair stranger dancing with the perpetual single girl is.”
“I’d say let’s give them something to talk about, but since your heart belongs to someone else, I’ll behave.”
I laugh as we approach the bar and a very tipsy Tatum to find that a line of shots has already been poured for a slew of us.
“Looky wha’ the caz dragged in,” Tatum slurs.
“Hello, again,” Hudson smiles and nods at her, and then reaches for his tequila. “Don Julio, correct?” he asks the bartender, with a boss-man attitude.
“Yes, sir.” News must travel fast. I guess the staff has already been informed that Hudson’s the new suit calling the shots around here.
Moore To Love Page 21