Ditched_A Left at the Altar Romance

by Holly Hart

  “Kate Miller’s office—please hold.”

  “No! Wait!” Too late. I find myself tapping my toe to The Devil Went Down to Georgia.

  “Now you know how I felt.”

  “Huh?”

  “Last night. 911 put me on hold.”

  “Seriously?” I don’t remember that. “How was their music?”

  “Don’t remember. Don’t think they had any.”

  “What—no Stayin’ Alive?”

  Carson groans. I fidget my way through When the Swallows Come Back to Capistrano and the better part of Twilight Time. I’m about to hang up when a clipped British voice cuts in. “Max Westbrook?”

  “Yeah—who am I speaking to?”

  “This is Sonia Burnley. Kate’s not available, but if you’d like to leave a message—”

  “No—no. I already texted. You don’t have some other way to get through to her? A pager?—an emergency number?”

  “Just the one you have. Is this an emergency?”

  I’m not sure how to answer that. “Maybe—uh...could I ask you a personal question? I swear it’s relevant.”

  “Ah...I suppose so?”

  I’ll have to tread lightly. “It’s about—you know Westley Baird, right?”

  “Oh, God.” I can practically hear her rolling her eyes.

  “I know he’s your ex, and this is all kinds of creepy. It’s just—”

  “Wait.” Her tone turns sharp. “You’re not saying those two are together, are you? I thought she was seeing you.”

  “No. I mean, they’re not. She is. Seeing me, I mean.” I squint uncomfortably. This conversation’s hurting my brain. “Why?—would that be a problem, her and Wes?”

  “Not for me.” A door thumps closed and the background chatter dies out. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m more concerned with what you’re saying. Are you telling me Wes is a problem? Is there something wrong with him? Why’d you guys break up?” I realize I’m pelting her with questions and zip my lip.

  “What is this, jealousy?”

  “No.” This isn’t going well. “Listen, I get how inappropriate this is. Report back to Kate, whatever you need to do; just....” I take a deep breath. “I caught Wes in a fib, and it’s got me concerned. That’s all.”

  “Oh, that’s all.” Sonia laughs. “In other news, water’s wet, right?”

  Right.... “Could I ask, I mean....” I’m not even sure what to ask, let alone how to ask it. “You’re saying this is normal for him? Stretching the truth?”

  “You’ve met him, right?”

  Guess that’s a yes. “So I shouldn’t be worried?”

  “About Wes? No. Or, well...I don’t think so?”

  That—that hesitation. That was something. “What? What are you thinking?”

  “I don’t know. It’s probably nothing.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  Silence.

  “Please. It’s important.”

  “All right. The reason we broke up? It wasn’t the lying. I could live with that. He was so bad at it—not that he wasn’t believable, but he never bothered keeping his stories straight, covering his tracks—it was like he didn’t care. Like he’d say whatever popped into his head, whether it was true or not.”

  That does sound like Wes. “What was it, then? The problem?”

  She chuckles. “You haven’t noticed? He’s head over heels for Kate. Always has been. Every time I’d think he was getting over her, he’d throw it in my face. Not on purpose: it was just...obvious.”

  He’s...what? Still in love with her? My stomach does a slow roll. It makes sense, but how did we miss it? How did Kate miss it? “She doesn’t know? Kate, I mean?”

  “Kate? No, he’s different with her. Pushes her away a little. He’ll go on Tinder in front of her, talk about other women, treat her like a sister—but then he wears her Christmas sweater to bed.”

  “He what?”

  “The sweater she got him for Secret Santa. He wears it like pajamas.”

  Not quite as bad as what I was picturing, but Jesus. “Wow; that’s—sorry to dig that up for you.”

  “It’s fine. We’ve been over a while.” Leather creaks as she shifts in her seat. “Anyway, if that’ll be all—?”

  “Yeah. Thanks. That’s...great.” I hang up. Carson’s giving me a told you so look. I meet his gaze, horror-struck. “So, if Wes is still in love with Kate, that’s really bad, right?”

  He shrugs. “Maybe? Maybe not? I mean, she got hurt pretty bad at the fashion show. Wouldn’t he have knocked it off by now, if he loved her so much?”

  “Kate got a blackmail note ten years ago. That’s why she ditched our wedding.”

  Carson whistles. “Fuck....” He taps at his teeth with his fingernail. “But how would that work? He breaks up your wedding, follows her to London, dates someone else for six years, and then...what?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know.” I can’t think through this headache. “Matt Danbury.”

  “What?”

  “Matt Danbury. The video: it’s been bugging me. Whoever made it—they weren’t taping everyone running from the rats. They were taping us. Like they knew something else was going to happen.”

  “You think Wes—Shrimpy—burned Matt alive? On purpose? And made a blackmail tape?”

  It sounds stupid, said out loud like that. He’d have to be a complete psychopath.

  Carson bolts upright. “Wait—the Tinder thing. Him and Kate catfishing each other. Did you know about that?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Neither did I.” He looms over the table, thrumming with excitement. “Dev and Kyle are dead. Rachel’s locked up. You know I’m not doing it, and I assume you’re not, either. That leaves Wes or Kate. They’re the only ones left who could know about that. So it’s him or it’s her. Right?”

  I stare. Feels like my brain’s short-circuiting.

  “I mean, I’m right, yeah?”

  Unless it’s not one of us. Which it has to be. Has to.

  “Unless it’s Kate?”

  Ludicrous as the idea is, I can’t even muster a laugh. “Right.”

  “So what now?”

  “I’ll text her again.” Fat lot of good that’s going to do, if she has her phone turned off. If something’s already happened. “I’m heading down there.”

  “You can’t drive for another forty-eight hours.”

  “You stopping me?” Snaking my ibuprofen’s one thing. He’s not keeping me from Kate.

  Carson shrugs, defeated. “I’d take you, but I’ve got an early shift.”

  “Forget it. It’ll be fine.”

  I text her one more time—on my way. explain when I get there—and I’m rushing for the elevator.

  This time, I’ll save her.

  Chapter 38

  Wes - 2007

  * * *

  “Whatcha got, Skidmarks?” Matt sidles up next to me, just like I knew he would. He’s so predictable it’s funny. No, it’s sad. Ten years from now, they’ll put his picture next to peaked in high school in the dictionary.

  Except they won’t.

  I hide my smirk under a flinch, and my hands behind my back. “Nothing.”

  “Yeah?” He grabs my arm. I clench my fist tight: can’t give it up too easy. “Huh. Playing hard to get?” He twists my arm behind my back. It hurts, ligaments still loose from last time. I don’t have to fake my scream when Matt grinds my face into the bricks. “Open your hand.”

  “No—fuck off.”

  He pries my fingers open one by one. I whimper to keep him interested. He likes that, seeing me snivel.

  “What’s this, then?” He waves the little fold of paper in my face.

  “Told you, nothing. Get off me.”

  “No-thing. Get off me.” Matt unwraps it himself, keeping me pinned to the wall with a casual shoulder. “Seriously—what is this?”

  “Aspirin. Give it back.”

  “Bullshit.” He pulls my head back. My scalp burns
as he twists his fingers in my hair. “Tell you what: you almost made me fail chemistry, getting me suspended the way you did. So you tell me what you got, and I won’t smash your teeth in, right now.”

  “So, what, you’ll smash them later?”

  Matt drives my face into the wall. He doesn’t pull back fast enough: the tip of my nose grazes the brick. “I’ll make you tell and smash ‘em anyway. Five...four...three—”

  “Ecstasy!” I go limp in his grasp, the picture of despair. “It’s ecstasy, okay? Go ahead. Throw it down the drain, or whatever. Just leave me alone.”

  “Whoa!” Matt finally lets go, the better to examine his prize. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Just the one tab, though? What’s the matter?—no one to do it with?”

  Just you.

  I pout in silence, letting my shoulders sag.

  Matt claps me on the shoulder. “Thanks, Skidmarks! See you at school.”

  I shut my eyes to keep my excitement from showing. He’s taken the bait. Now, all I have to do is hope he holds off till tonight. Surely not even Matt would gobble his treat before the party gets started.

  I straighten my jacket and hitch up my pants. My cheek’s stinging where Matt mashed it into the wall. I pick at it, digging my nails in to make my eyes water. By the time Kate arrives, the tears are streaming down my cheeks. I wipe them away as she gets out of her car. Shrink in on myself as she approaches.

  “Wes? What happened?” She picks up her pace, jogging across the parking lot. “You trip, or something?”

  “No. Matt, he—never mind.” I sniffle. Wipe my nose. “Forget it. Did you get them?”

  “Hell, yeah. Cleaned out both feeder tanks, and the fancy rats, too.” Her grin fades as she brushes my hair out of the way. “Shit, Wes. There’s, like, gravel in your face.”

  “It’s fine. I’m okay.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  I let her drag me into the gas station, past the attendant, snagging the bathroom key as she goes. She sits me down on the toilet lid and grabs a handful of paper towels. The soap stings worse than the brick did; worse than my nails, even. I let myself cry for real, but only a little. Not enough to get snotty.

  I don’t like being that close to Matt. Hate being alone with him. But being close to Kate, that’s nice. She’s gentle. Careful. Nobody else is like that.

  “He’ll get his tonight.” Kate ruffles my hair. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from leaning into her. It’d be so good to rest my cheek against her stomach. I could do it. She’d hold me close. Rub my back. She wouldn’t push me away, but it might get weird. Might cross a line. She has to do that, or I won’t know it’s real.

  I zone out some while she washes my face. Tonight...it’ll be all right. The nerves die immediately, when you burn to death. You don’t feel it, not really. Not for long. What Matt does, you feel that. And then you keep feeling it. I’m trading a few seconds of his pain for...who knows how many hours of anguish he’d inflict, after high school? Through college? And if he had kids—

  “Hey.” Kate chucks me under the chin. “Where’d you go?”

  I try on a timid smile. “My happy place.”

  “Yeah? Where’s that?”

  “Picnic Island. After tourist season.” I do like it there. Paddled out one Monday last October, instead of going to class. It was so quiet I could hear the leaves falling off the trees. If I believed in heaven, I guess I’d picture it like that. Except Kate would be there, and we’d have a house, and Max would be our dog. Something stupid and drooly, like a Saint Bernard.

  Kate pats me on the shoulder. “Wait here. I’ll grab some Polysporin.”

  “They have that here?”

  “Yup.” She flashes me a grin. “Guess they get a lot of tourists with fishhooks through their thumbs.”

  It hurts to laugh, but for Kate, I manage it.

  I could still call it off. Just...not do it. Let him live.

  I can hear Kate out there, joking with the gas station guy. It could be her, one day, alone with Matt Danbury.

  I’m doing the right thing.

  Chapter 39

  Kate

  * * *

  I wake up to a scene straight out of a horror movie: moonlight slanting through glass; a terrifying specter looming over me. He’s seen me—he’s seen me, and he’s reaching for something in the dark. I shrink back against the cushions, and—

  “Welcome back.” Wes flips on the light.

  “Jesus fucking Christ!”

  “What?” He blinks. “Oh—did I scare you?”

  “You think?” I push the blanket off my lap. “What are you doing skulking about in the dark?”

  “I just got back.” He perches on the ottoman, smiling. “You were sleeping so peacefully—I was about to sneak back out, but your phone was trying to vibrate itself off the table.”

  Oh. Right. That is my phone in his hand. “Give it here, then.”

  He passes it over. “I might, uh—I think I’ll go straight to bed. If that’s all right with you."

  “Sure.” Wait. What am I doing? “Hold on—I’m so sorry. I’m still waking up. I didn’t even ask, how’s your dad?”

  Wes wrings his hands and presses his lips together.

  “Wes?”

  “He—I was too late.” He looks up at me, eyes glistening, and quickly turns away. “I’ve spent most of the day making—making arrangements. I don’t... They asked me what kind of service I wanted, and I—I don’t think there’s even anyone to—anyone who’d—” He chokes on the words, physically gags on them, chest heaving with the effort of holding in his grief. “If I’d left an hour earlier....”

  “Oh, hey, that’s not your fault.” I squeeze myself onto the ottoman and pull him close. He’s gotten so thin—I can feel every bone in his shoulder. “Shit, Wes, what are you doing to yourself?”

  “Hm?”

  “When’s the last time you ate a full meal?”

  He only shakes his head, face hidden in the crook of my neck. I can feel him holding his breath, holding back the storm.

  “It’s all right. I’ll go with you tomorrow. Whatever’s still left to do....”

  Wes’s chest hitches. He pulls away, eyes bright and feverish. “Have you ever thought.... Did you ever want to run away? Leave it all behind?”

  If he only knew! “So many times.”

  “Why don’t we, then?” He half-rises, stumbles, and sits down hard. “Grab our passports, a change of clothes—go till we run out of road.”

  “So we’d end up in the ocean?”

  “Across the ocean. The Faroe Islands. We’d get a little cabin, no Internet, no TV—we’d never have to find out what happened to our lives.” He clutches my hands so tight it almost hurts. “We could grow our own vegetables. Have a goat we’d milk, or eat, or...whatever goats are for.”

  I take his hands and fold them back into his lap. He’s trembling all over, cold to the touch. “Let me make you some dinner first. Think you could handle some soup? Maybe some grilled cheese?”

  “No....” He stares at the backs of his hands. “No—we have to go. I have to get out of here. Please.”

  “What about Max and Carson? Don’t they get to come?”

  “Kate....” He hangs his head. “There isn’t time. I want to save you. I love you.”

  “I love you too, but...hey!” I bump him under the chin to get him to look up. “You’re not thinking straight. You’re upset, delirious—we can’t just—”

  “No, I love you.” Wes claps his hand over his mouth, mutters through his fingers. “I’m in love with you. And I’m sorry, so sorry—I know you and Max are sort of, uh... I never meant to say it like this, but, Kate, I adore you. If anything happened to you...if you... Kate, the sun would go out for me; I’d never get over it....” He looks around, wild-eyed, like he’s expecting the shadows to attack. “Please. Come with me. I’m frightened. It’s all closing in, and if this is our last chance...K
ate....”

  I pull back slowly, edging away from him. “Wes, did you take something? Smoke something? Is that what this is?”

  “No!” Wes follows me with his eyes. “I’m in love with you. Can’t remember a time I wasn’t. You came up to me on the beach, that day—I thought you were going to pretend to ask me out so Carson could beat me up. But you asked if I wanted to eat with you guys. You....” His hands twitch in his lap. “I love you. Is that so bad?”

  Yes. Or...no? But his timing—fuck! If he’d spoken up eight years ago, maybe, but—no. He’s like my little brother. And there’s never been anyone but Max. Never been room for anyone else. What am I supposed to say?

  “You don’t have to love me back.” He sniffles and wipes at his eyes. “But if you come with me, maybe in time.... I mean, I wouldn’t be angry if you never did. I could keep being your friend, and we could see....”

  “Wh—what?”

  “Like with arranged marriages—they sometimes fall in love, right? With time?”

  I stand up. This situation passed weird five exits ago. We’re deep into acid trip country. “I’m making you some soup. You’ll eat, sleep, shower, and in the morning, we can—what are you doing?”

  “Don’t—just....” He’s blocking my way, standing between me and the kitchen, which is ridiculous: I could knock him over with a finger.

  “Are you trapping me in the living room?”

  Wes steps aside, flushing crimson. “Sorry. God, Kate—I don’t know what came over me. I’m...it’s just, we have to go. Right now. I can’t explain, but there’s no time for dinner. We need to—”

  I push past him into the kitchen. My toe catches on the torn linoleum. Wes steadies me, setting me back on my feet.

  “Look, I know I’m probably—no, definitely—I realize I’m scaring the hell out of you right now. It’s just—check your phone.”

  My— “What?”

  “Your phone. There’s a text. Read it. Please.”

  I wake up the screen. The notification’s right there: on my way. explain when I get there. From Max. “Max is coming? So what?”

  “It’s him—don’t you get it?” Wes advances on me, eyes wide and crazed. “It’s Max. It’s revenge—he hates you. He’s going to fuck you and ditch you and laugh at you, just like you did to him.”