Always Delightful: A Romantic Comedy (Always Series Book 1)

by Shayne McClendon

  They shared a grownup friends with benefits arrangement I envied. His presence was the only thing that kept her sane while living with my sister.

  I leaned over and kissed my mother’s cheek. “Thank you for lunch. I’ll be useless the rest of the day.”

  She smoothed my wild hair over my shoulder. “Exactly why I like to spring our little dates on you occasionally. You work too hard, darling.”

  Arching a brow, I teased, “Says the woman who never puts in less than sixty hours a week.”

  “Touché. However, I have extracurricular activities that relieve the stress of being a workaholic.”

  “Mom!” I feigned shock. “Stop advising me to get laid.”

  Her laughter was one of the best things in the world. “Go on. I love you.”

  “I love you, too. Bye, Demetrius.”

  “Goodbye, Petra.”

  I waved at them when I opened the door to the lobby.

  Once I was ensconced in my peaceful domain, I stripped away the clothes appropriate for public and tugged on yoga pants and a tank top. Stretching out on my couch, I took a quick nap, courtesy of my wine-filled luncheon.

  Hours later, fresh coffee in hand, I walked barefoot through the home I loved to my office and got back to work.

  The break did me good.

  It went a long way to soothing how shitty I felt the day before when my sister shoved me into a dress she knew wouldn’t fit properly and wasn’t in the least flattering to my shape.

  I might be Ava’s maid of honor but neither of us were under the illusion it was voluntary. I didn’t help with a fucking thing and no one dared to suggest I should.

  They knew better.

  I showed up at the countless fittings and events because I loved and respected my mother.

  I spent the time with resting bitch face, waiting to capture the most humiliating photos of Ava and her friends.

  It was relaxing to mentally outline the mocking post that would hit Facebook – courtesy of moi – when I was released from the hell the entire ordeal put me through.

  Ava and the people she surrounded herself with were obnoxious shits. I snapped photos on the sly and recorded her ranting at the seamstress, baker, caterer, and photographer on countless occasions.

  I disliked ninety percent of the people on the guest list for the bullshit circus, including several members of my family.

  Being older than my sister by three years, only my aunts had the courage to ask when I planned to walk down the aisle.

  I think my blank, borderline psychotic stare and total lack of response scared them a little.

  Mission accomplished. Don’t ask stupid questions.

  The one saving grace of Ava’s shit show was going to be the open bar with top shelf booze. I planned to drink myself through the entire thing without an ounce of guilt.

  My kind of wedding.

  Chapter Four

  June 2015 – Ava’s Big Day

  The wedding preparations further escalated our mutual sisterly irritation to deep-rooted resentment.

  There was serious relief on my part when the magical event of Ava Andreadis and Kevin Welch request the pleasure of your company finally arrived.

  It was almost over and nothing was going to wipe the sarcastic smirk off my face.

  I stood on the stage beside her bitchy friends after several months of wasted wit and far too much alcohol as my undoubtedly attractive sister shoved her bouquet at me and turned to face her fiancé.

  It was hilarious watching a man you once dated, had sex with, and turned down for marriage getting hitched to your raging bitch of a sister.

  Yeah, I might have neglected to mention one of the biggest reasons for the severe animosity between Ava and me.

  Fucked up, am I right?

  Since it was common knowledge that Kevin proposed to me the year before on Thanksgiving and then to Ava on Christmas Eve, everyone expected me to play the hurt ex-girlfriend.

  No way was I going out like that.

  I’d rather torture them while I held back my inner laughter and get a sympathy pass from anyone who might witness said torture.

  A week after the awkward ass Thanksgiving celebration with our family, Ava asked to stay with me for a few weeks while Mom had some renovation done to the house.

  She was melodramatic about fumes and dust.

  Internally rolling my eyes and quietly urging my mom to hurry the fuck up with her kitchen redesign, I let her.

  Returning from a short business trip, I caught my (ick) boyfriend and little sister fucking in my bedroom, in my bed, as if they’d done it a dozen times.

  Livid, I threw them out in a way that still made me giggle, immediately replaced everything in my bedroom they might have touched, and considered them both dead to me.

  The day before our entire family descended on our house for Christmas dinner, Ava announced their plan to marry.

  Knowing how my mom thinks, she wanted to force us to interact before the dead body of our relationship started to rot.

  Strangely, I didn’t care much about Kevin.

  He proposed on a holiday with most of my family in attendance in the hopes the pressure would influence me to say yes.

  He miscalculated. He just managed to humiliate himself.

  Confident in my oh hell no choice and without a single regret, I told him I’d understand if he wanted to break up. He refused.

  A couple of weeks later, he sure showed me.

  The months since exposed me to a side of Kevin I suspected but ignored in the seven months we dated.

  I’m busy and have bigger shit to deal with than the man-child I took with me to business functions and occasionally talked through giving me orgasms.

  I couldn’t imagine being married to him.

  For a woman like me, he was the worst. When you really boiled it down, he was the male version of Ava.

  I dodged a fucking bullet there, I thought to myself for the hundredth time.

  Ava was the prettiest Bridezilla ever and I knew we wouldn’t talk often, if ever, after today.

  I’d still be forced to see her at family gatherings and holidays but I wasn’t going to let that get me down.

  She was going on her honeymoon and soon (very soon), I’d be free of her and her new husband’s clusterfuck of a life.

  They were moving into a townhouse Kevin’s mom bought them after the extravagant wedding my mom made possible. Losers, both of them.

  So, here we are.

  Me holding Ava’s fucking bouquet and handing her the ring she planned to put on Kevin’s finger.

  I derived some sick satisfaction from the fact that he proposed to my sister with the same ring he tried to give me. Chuckles galore and I didn’t care if that made me a bad person.

  It had already been a long day and I was fucking bored.

  Emitting a put-upon sigh, my eyes roamed the old mansion and I wished I’d thought to stick gum in my mouth before the festivities started.

  I can crack it without anyone even knowing I’m chewing it. It would have echoed spectacularly with the high ceilings.

  It drives Ava nuts, which would have been a huge bonus.

  My wandering gaze settled on the man holding my same position a dozen feet away. Kevin’s older brother Jack.

  The groom and groomsmen waited at the front of the area set up for the wedding when the bridesmaids assembled.

  I’d never had a chance to meet the best man before but heard tons of lies about him from my ex-asshole.

  I mean my almost bro-in-law. Duh.

  Jack was a successful photojournalist who traveled the world for the sole purpose of making his younger brother look like a jealous loser. (No, seriously. That’s what Kevin thinks.)

  I took him in with a brief once-over and pronounced him delectable. Shaggy blonde hair, tall and lean, and I-spend-lots-of-time-outside rugged.

  I was positive Ava specifically had the men and women enter separately so I wouldn’t be seen on the hottie’s arm.<
br />
  Spiteful bitch.

  Seeing the expression of disgust and boredom I wore reflected on his face caused a tiny snort of amusement before I could rein it in. As if I would have.

  His gray eyes met mine and we shared a moment of silent mirth. Then he winked.

  I pressed my lips together after my unchecked gasp of laughter and the bride and groom’s heads turned to glare at me. Rolling my eyes, I sucked my teeth at them for good measure.

  For my mother, I regained my composure and fixed my stare on the intricate design of the stained-glass window directly behind the raised dais.

  The entire situation was absurd and my stomach cramped from holding back raucous laughter trying to claw its way out of my body.

  I focused on Mom. She’d be disappointed in me if I made a scene during their vows, damn it. There was a chance she’d cry. Ugh, I never wanted to make her cry.

  With inhuman effort, I faked some decorum and remembered that soon I could pony up to the nearest open bar and get my good time on. The minutes ticked by and I zoned out.

  “By the power invested in me…”

  Fucking finally!

  “I now pronounce you…”

  Blah, blah, blah. Time to get the hell out of here.

  My sister glanced smugly in my direction and I tossed her the monstrosity she insisted on for her bouquet. Fumbling, she barely caught it and opened her mouth to shriek at me. Managing to snap her lips shut just in time, she grimaced.

  Inside, I died.

  Ava wouldn’t want to give away the secret shrew surprise to her new hubby too early in the game.

  I cocked my hip in the bright yellow harlot gown my dear, dear sister chose for me and dropped my hand on it.

  She huffed, put her hand through Kevin’s arm, and descended the stage at his side with her nose stuck in the air.

  It was the ideal chance to escape. I ignored everyone else and banked to the right while the rest of the crowd moved down the center.

  I fully intended to be one of the first ten people in line for booze because I’d fucking earned that shit. Exit ahead, cool refreshment waiting for me on the other side.

  Steps away from liquid salvation, a tight grip on my bare upper arm brought verbal destruction rising fast and furious to my tongue. I was yanked around roughly and...

  Fuck me running.

  Chapter Five

  Ava glared inches from my face. “Where are you going? Jesus, Petra! Photos! Remember?” I blinked, clueless and uncaring about her needs. “Damn it. You have to take pictures with the wedding party, dumbass.”

  My slow smile was all teeth. Ava let go of my arm and rapidly took a step back.

  I pitched my voice quiet and super sweet. “Fuck with me and I’ll accidentally spill shit all over that overpriced bit of fabric that makes you look like a specialty hooker.”

  She hissed, “You wouldn’t dare. Mom would kill you.”

  “Wrong. Unlike you, I can afford to reimburse her.” I let my eyes take in the custom gown with way too much sparkle for a grown woman to be seen wearing in public. “Now that we understand one another...”

  “You’re such a bitch, Petra.”

  “Yes. Yes, I am. You have thirty minutes of my time. After that, I don’t know you. I won’t make any fake speeches. I’ll get drunk and happily close this chapter of my life. Got it?”

  Her mouth pinched hard but she knew I meant what I said.

  I glanced at the guests exploring the venue and standing in line at the multiple bars with extreme envy. Lucky bastards.

  I swept past her toward the small courtyard where the bridal party gathered with the photographer and my mom.

  She sputtered and mumbled angrily under her breath.

  “Better chill the fuck out, Ava. You so mad. Those red splotches will look like shit in your pictures.”

  My biting inner monologues were the only thing that kept me from bitch-slapping people who annoyed me daily.

  No one realized how close I was to the edge most of the time and no one kept me dangling over that abyss more than my own family.

  I approached the group and crossed my arms, waiting for stage two of the cunt carnival to start.

  Ava breathed deeply several times before joining us. She made a point of slipping her arm around Kevin’s waist before cutting her eyes at me like it would wound me or something.

  I couldn’t help it, I burst out laughing. Into my hand, I coughed, “Juvenile.”

  Appearing at my side, my mother whispered sternly, “Petra, darling.”

  “Oh alright. For you.”

  Lifting her head, she murmured, “Chin up, fake smile, and pretend you don’t want to wrap your fingers around her throat.”

  “You’re as happy as I am to get this over with,” I told her.

  “Happier, sweetheart. She moved out two days ago.”

  We stood whispering and laughing together while Ava barked orders at the poor man forced to take pictures of this disaster.

  Then my ungrateful little sister snapped her fingers in our direction. I waited for Mom to stop her head from exploding.

  The two of us stared at her without a word and Ava blushed four shades of red.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled finally. “Gorgio wants us to gather in front of the entrance.”

  “There you go, darling,” Mom said. “Big girl words.”

  It was the beginning of the longest half hour of my life. By the time we were done, I figured I’d look like Nicholson in the first Batman movie.

  Sweet baby Jesus.

  The rest of the bridal party giggled and flashed extra bright smiles as they gushed over the bride and groom.

  Finally, Mom told the photographer, “I’m done. I need to see to our guests. You have plenty of me.”

  Nodding in my direction, she added, “You’ll want to release my eldest daughter as soon as possible. She’s ready to commit homicide and she’s smart enough to get away with it.”

  Bowing, the man smiled and replied in a heavy accent, “As you wish, senora. The pictures of you are exquisite.”

  She waved her hand as she walked rapidly to Demetrius’ side.

  I was so jealous of her escape I almost said fuck it and followed. Instead, I let Gorgio tell me where to stand.

  Beside the other bridesmaids, it was clear we wore the same dress but couldn’t be more different in every way.

  There were a lot more curves tucked in mine and they still managed to look cute in the hideous color.

  Not that I gave a single shit but who the hell put a curvy, olive-skinned brunette in canary yellow?

  The entire affair was ludicrous and I was angrier by the second that I was forced out in public in such a getup.

  One of the idiots chose that moment to chirp, “Oh, Kevin, you’re just so incorrigible!” The sentence was uttered in the most god-awful singsong voice. “You’re both so gorgeous today.”

  Grossed out, I observed to no one in particular, “I can just imagine the orgy of stupidity you fuckwits will engage in after several bottles of wine to help you pretend it was the drinking that made you do it.”

  The incorrigible Kevin blushed dark red and I went to sit down.

  Surely, they didn’t need me to pose around the third fucking staircase in ten minutes.

  I mumbled, “These bitches make me fucking nauseous and I’m not even drunk yet.”

  “Time to get to work on that then.” I glanced up in surprise. “I figured you for a rum and coke woman. If not, we’ll discuss your preference later. I’m Jack and you must be Petra.”

  A sweating rocks glass appeared in my line of sight like an oasis in the desert.

  “So that’s what the real smile looks like. I worried you were still in character from your theater gig as the Joker.”

  “Oh, you’re hilarious.” I took the first sip and sighed as he took the seat beside me. “And possibly the best person on the face of the planet. Was it that obvious I needed booze? Pills? Maybe heroin with an anti-freeze chase
r?”

  He laughed and it was one of those boisterous laughs that draw attention. A little piece of my heart belonged to him instantly.

  “Your eyes keep flickering between escape desperation and homicidal rage. I’m probably the only one who noticed since I feel the same.”

  We clinked our glasses together and his eyes flicked down and back to my face as he took a sip of his own drink.

  “So. That dress…?”

  I took a long swig and leaned my bare back against the cool wood of the bench ten feet from where the rest of the bridal party tittered with insane and unrealistic happiness.

  “Mm, you like? My sister and her incomparable fashion sense. We look like extras from Best Little Whorehouse, dinner theater style. I’m not nearly as cheap as this dress makes me look.”

  I grinned and he leaned back, his hard shoulder pressing against my bare one. I felt a tingle. The man was in shape.

  “On the contrary, you’re clearly the highest class of call girl. Three-thousand-a-night, not a goddamn penny less.”

  I snarfed my drink and couldn’t control my laughter. My sister and her besties shot daggers my way.

  “Fuck you, whores,” I told them calmly.

  He bumped me. “I think you’re the most popular girl at the school dance, Petra.”

  I couldn’t remember the last person who made me smile from the instant I met them. What a pathetic commentary on my life that was.

  “Since you knew my name, you must know my history with your brother. Any thoughts so we can get that out of the way?”

  “That he was obviously too stupid to hold the smarter, funnier sister. Disappointing but not surprising.”

  “Smarter and funnier? Do I sense an ally, Jack?”

  “Absolutely. If you’ll give me the dirty details of your breakup. They seem a little sketchy when that asshat explains them.”

  I turned, crossed my legs, and propped my elbow on the back of the bench. Jack’s eyes dipped to my chest and I followed his gaze.

  The girls were about to make a bid for freedom.

  Yanking up the strapless gown, I silently cursed my sister of the no-tits club. Big boobs didn’t go strapless in my opinion.