“You’re finishing school,” I declare. “We’ll figure this out. But you’ll need school if you want to give your kid the kind of life you want.”
He nods and I wrap him in a hug, clapping my hand across his back.
“You’re going to be a great dad,” I say quietly.
Somehow there is more power in not declaring it at the top of my lungs. It may not be the life I envisioned for him, but my brother, for all his faults, has matured so much over the years. And soon, I’ll be an uncle. Maybe in time, I’ll find my own Kym and have a kid on my own. First, I have to get over Jenna. What sucks is I fear the blow she dealt may never heal.
Twenty-Three
JENNA
About Four Months Later
“Are sure you’re ready?” Cate’s voice drifts to me from the living room.
“I’m coming.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.”
I jump because Cate is now in my room. Turning around, I ask her what she means.
“You know what I mean. Don’t pretend otherwise.”
“And you know why I’m doing this.”
“Have you spoken to your father?” she asks.
“No, and you know the reason. I can’t do that.”
“This is the last time I’m bringing this up, but please reconsider. You don’t love Kenneth. Stop trying to fool everyone, most of all yourself.”
“Cate, you know me better than anyone. This is fine. I’m fine. It’s the right thing to do.”
She’s not buying it for a second. I watch her back as she leaves the room. A few seconds later, she calls out, “You’d better hurry. The limo just arrived. Put your party face on.”
Staring at myself in the mirror, I search for a tiny bit of excitement in my eyes, even a glimmer of happiness, but there is none. I’m going to have to do one hell of an acting job around my friends, or they’ll figure it out. Checking my outfit one last time, I grab my little clutch and head out of the bedroom.
“You look great. As perfect as a bachelorette can be. Except for one thing.” A sneaky grin spreads across her face.
“What’s that?” I ask suspiciously.
“This.” She pulls something out of a bag she’s holding, and there’s a pounding on my door. Cate starts to laugh as she yells, “Hang on, you impatient bitches.”
“Oh, no. Oh, hell no,” I say, staring at what she holds in her hand.
“Oh, yes.” She hangs a satin banner across my body that announces in silver glitter to the world—or at least to everyone in Charleston—that I’m the Bachelorette Extraordinaire. But that’s not the end of it. Next, she places a silver tiara covered in rhinestones on my head that says Bachelorette on it.
In the most sarcastic tone I can muster, I say, “Are you sure we’re heading out to party, or did you just prepare me for Toddlers and Tiaras?”
She spits out a laugh and grabs my arm as we leave. All the girls are piled up at my front door. Berkeley, Carrie, Britt, Hayley, Lauren, and Sam stand there. When they see me, they give me a round of applause and hand me a shot of something sweet. I have a very bad feeling about this. Then I’m dragged into the waiting limo, and we head off into the night.
As soon as I sit, an appetizer is shoved into my mouth. “We can’t have you drinking and not eating,” Berkeley announces, so our first stop is food.
“Great,” I say cheerily. “Definitely don’t want a hangover.”
“And no throwing up. You got that?” Sam asks. “Ben said for me to tell you that.”
“Pump the brakes. If you all are going to drown me in shots, I am not making any of those promises. Besides, I’m going to need all the shots I can get in order to be seen in this crap.”
An intake of air so huge takes place, I’m fearful I will suffocate.
“Jenna, we are offended. We have gone through a lot of trouble in order to make you bachelorette worthy,” Lauren, the most uptight of them all, says.
“Uh-huh, I’m sure you did.”
Laughter ensues.
“And I’m sure once I’m plastered, pictures of me will be seen all over Instagram, shocking Kenneth to the core.” After I say that, I start to giggle.
Then Cate adds, “Oh my God, can you imagine?” Everyone howls.
“Thank God the Balfours don’t have Instagram,” Sam says. “The wedding might be called off.”
Now that’s a thought. If only.
Berkeley leans forward and grabs my hand. Never one to be shy, she asks, “Jenna, are you sure about this?”
I’m holding another shot in my hand. “You gave this to me. Why are you asking?”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about Kenneth.”
“Oh.” I stare at the tequila as though it mocks me from the little pink Bride To Be shot glass. Then I muster up my best megawatt grin, hold up my little glass, and say, “Hell yeah, I’m sure.” And down the hatch the hot as fire liquid goes.
We arrive at our first destination. A table awaits us and we have dinner, which, by any standards, is uneventful. The girls are all acting like a pile of horses at the Kentucky Derby waiting for the gates to open.
“Okay, ladies, let’s get out of here. You all are driving me crazy.” They practically jump out of their chairs until I remind them we haven’t paid the bill yet. When everything is settled, we hop back into the limo, and our next stop is a club where Berkeley hangs out. She favors it because her favorite drummer, Kylian, is here a lot, even when his band isn’t playing. Unfortunately for me, his band is center stage tonight, which means I’m suddenly the focus of attention.
Shortly after we enter the place, my name is announced and drinks are purchased in my honor, due to my special night. Kylian congratulates me, and I honestly do feel like I’m on Toddlers and Tiaras as Berkeley drags me to the stage to take a bow. I could crawl into a hole, if there was one. Humiliation courses through me, especially since acting as though I’m happy about this farce is the equivalent to acting thrilled about an upcoming root canal. As soon as the drum roll and congratulations are over, I stumble in haste to get the hell out of the limelight.
Cate and Sam are cracking up as I rejoin them. “I’m going to kill you all. And this is not funny.”
“Here,” Lauren says, handing me some kind of pinkish concoction. At this point, I don’t even care what I drink anymore. I only want to forget this moment. Throwing back the shot, I swallow the sickly sweet stuff and shudder.
“That bad, huh?” someone asks. Looking up, I see it’s Hayley.
“Too sweet for me.”
“So, what can I get you next?” She wants to know.
“Water and then a vodka tonic with extra limes.”
I envy her as she marches off. She’s free and available to do whatever she wants.
“What’s up with you?” Cate asks. “You look lost.”
“Maybe I am,” I confess.
“Then how about we find you? Let’s dance.”
“Sure. Why not.”
After shaking it up for a few songs, I find Hayley. She points to the table where she placed my drinks. I guzzle the water and then the vodka tonic.
“Whoa, rein it in, girl,” Cate says. “You’ll be face-planting before midnight at that rate.”
Maybe that’s what I want. But I say, “You’re right. But I was so thirsty.”
“Okay, guzzle all the water you want, but not the vodka.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Berkeley skips up to us and holds a bag in her hand. Why do I have a really bad feeling about this? I find out soon enough.
“Ta-da. These are just for you.” Then she hangs something around my neck and jabs something into my new drink that Hayley shoves in my hand. When I realize what they are, my face heats to boiling point. I’m wearing a necklace with a dozen or more miniature penises hanging off it, and I have a penis straw sticking out of my drink.
“Suck it up, babe,” Cate hollers it out. Good Lord, that girl must be plastered alr
eady. I glance at Sam, and her hand covers her mouth as she bends at the waist, laughing. Why am I the only one who isn’t laughing? Oh, gee, maybe it’s because I’m marrying someone I don’t want to.
“Smile,” Berkeley says, and I look at her as she takes a picture. Dear God, help me. What will they do to me next?
Another round of shots appears, but this time they’re red Jell-O shooters. Oh God. What are we, eighteen?
“Who ordered these?” I ask.
Lauren waves at me as she sways on her feet. “I did. I love ’em.”
I squish mine out of the little paper cup and yell, “Who wants to dance with the penis queen?”
They all jump up and down, and we head out on the floor. Berkeley waves at Kylian, and he points his drumstick at her and then twirls it around all his fingers.
“Hey, Berkeley, is he as talented with his other stick as he is with that?” Sam asks.
Jeez, these girls are trashed already. Did I miss something?
“I need another shot,” I yell.
“We got you covered,” Carrie yells and trots off to get me another one. She returns with something clear and announces it’s a Lemon Drop. I down it with gusto.
Cate yells into my ear something about the wedding, but I can’t hear.
“What?”
“So, are you ready?”
“Yeah, I had my final dress fitting today,” I shout over the music. That’s what put me in a funk. After Mom and I left the bridal shop, I wanted to cry. What should’ve been a happy and exciting time was nothing but depressing. Mom conducted herself as though she was the one walking down the aisle. She didn’t care a thing about me. It was all about her. And the dress—ugh, it’s a ten on the Richter scale—the worst disaster in the history of wedding gowns. But Mom and Mrs. Balfour insisted on it. I just had to have something that society would approve of. It reminds me of something a Southern belle would wear and nothing that I would ever pick out. It’s absurdly over embellished. I’m too plain for the damn thing. You can barely see me in it. All you can see are the sequins, seed pearls, and rhinestones. You almost need sunglasses to look at it. And don’t even get me started on the stupid veil. I didn’t want to wear one, only put a flower or something in my hair. But oh, no. That’s not acceptable. Now I have this tiara that almost looks like the one I have on now, but with layers and layers of tulle that are yards long. I can’t imagine how I’m even going to walk under all the crap I’ll be wearing. And finally, I wanted to wear flats. But they both nearly had strokes when I mentioned it. So I’ll be painfully wearing Jimmy Choos and hobbling around all day.
“Okay, give it up. Why the frown?” Cate asks, intruding on my wedding gown thoughts.
“Just thinking about my wedding gown.”
“And you’re frowning?” Her brows are drawn together.
“Oh, Cate, you will, too, when you see it. Mom and Mrs. Balfour had a field day.”
“Jenna, I told you to put your foot down.” Cate is good at scolding others, but would never do it herself.
“Come on. You couldn’t do it either.”
Her posture sags. “I know. I talk a tough game sometimes, though. But honestly, is it that bad?”
“Not if you call an oversized cupcake covered in whipped cream and sprinkled liberally with glitter bad, then no. Oh, and this tiara I’m wearing? It closely resembles my veil. Yeah, that’s about it.”
Cate stares at me in horror.
I go on to add, “Just prepare yourself for the shock. Oh, and if I may add, I wanted to wear my hair down, but the two control freaks insisted on an updo. But not the cool kind you see on Pinterest. No, I’m going to look like Martha Washington.”
“Jesus, help you.”
“Help all of you because you have to look at me with a straight face.”
Cate looks up at me with a smartass grin. “Who says?”
Then we both giggle, and it turns into an all out howl. All the girls stare at us as we slap our knees and continue our laugh-fest.
When we can finally speak again, Cate asks, “Does Kenneth know?”
I wave my hand. “He’s too nice to say anything offensive to anyone, especially his mother. And he doesn’t know, but when he sees me, he’s going to tell me how gorgeous I look.” And he will, whether he believes it or not. That’s Kenneth’s way.
“Is his friend coming to the wedding?”
“I think so. I haven’t kept up, and I don’t even care.” The only thing I care about has slipped through my fingers and will never be mine again.
Britt runs up to me and hands me a water and another vodka tonic. But Carrie is on her heels with another Lemon Drop shooter. Looking at Cate with raised brows, she gives me the go-ahead and I down the shooter. Admittedly, they’re getting easier and easier to swallow.
Lauren sidles up to me and says, “Surprise,” and hands me a pair of glasses that say Bride To Be on them. They’re pink and round with rhinestones outlining them and have a huge pink diamond in the middle over the bridge of my nose. Then all the girls put theirs on, and theirs say Team Bride. We all laugh and head over to dance some more.
Afterward, I excuse myself and go to the ladies’ room. I’m returning to the table, but decide to go to the bar first for some water and a round of shots. Cate has a tab set up and so has Sam. I get us all shots of Herradura and all the fixings.
As I’m waiting, a familiar voice says, “Nice getup.” It’s a voice I haven’t heard in a while, but one I won’t ever forget.
Turning to face him, he stands there and next to him is Braeden. “Hi, Brandon, Braeden.” His brother gives me a cold stare I don’t ever think I’ve seen on his face, and I can’t blame him after the promise I made and never kept. Brandon smiles, and his gaze rakes over me briefly, taking in all my accessories.
“Celebrating, huh?”
“Um, not really. It’s more like they’re celebrating.” It’s the truth, because in reality, I’m not celebrating at all. Inside, I’m hollow and empty with regards to my upcoming marriage.
He dips his head, but says nothing more to that. And what can he say? Oh, that’s good. Or, run away with me? Because neither will result in anything, and we both know it.
The bartender says something, and I grab the tray my drinks are on. I’d rather stand here and stare at Brandon, but what good will that do? Deepen the gash that already exists is the only thing I know of.
“It was nice seeing you two. You both look great, by the way.” But when I say it, my gaze lingers far too long on the wrong man. I’m marrying Kenneth a week from today, but all I want to do is stare at Brandon. My smile is weak as I brush past them both, and my heart weeps tears of blood as I stagger back to my group. They mistake my wobbling steps for drunkenness, but they are sadly wrong. It’s the pain of heartbreak that has made my footing falter and my heart shatter again. I fear it will always be like this, and I will never again be whole. I’ll only be this empty shell, because the real me disappeared with Brandon when he left that day four months ago.
Twenty-Four
BRANDON
Braedon’s eyes are fixed on me. “Bro, your tongue’s hanging out.”
The reminder has me glancing away from Jenna’s retreating form. “You didn’t have to be such an asshole to her.”
His head lowers, and he gives me uncharacteristic wide eyes. “Are you serious? She played you, dude. Look, she’s got a dick necklace on. No doubt one of them has your name on it. She probably wanted to have fun before locking up her pussy for just one guy.”
What little does he know. Her husband-to-be isn’t even interested in her pussy for all I know. But will she be forced to share him with another guy like Horace? The thought has me tossing the contents of my glass back. “It’s not about me tonight. We’re here for you.”
Jeff shows up at that moment with a trio of shots. He hands one to each of us.
“To Brae,” Jeff says. “The first of us to get hitched.”
Kym, my future sister-in-law, has
decided she doesn’t want to be an unwed mother. My brother, being the kind of guy he is, asked her to marry him. He’s not just doing it for her. He truly loves her. They plan to get it done at the courthouse the coming week before his sailing race next Sunday. We are celebrating tonight because he can’t get drunk next week since he has one more run on Saturday before the race.
Braedon, shit-faced after a couple more shots, closes one eye and glares at me with the other. “What happened to that hot redhead?”
Jeff glances at me with his shot halfway to his mouth.
“Lexa and Jeff are hooking up,” I say quickly.
Braedon’s other eye opens. “No shit.” Jeff just nods. “And the business thing?”
That had gone south, something I hadn’t shared with anyone.
“Her dad had some financial stuff he had to deal with and had to pull out,” I say.
“Well, are you going to do it on your own?”
That I’m not sure about, so I shrug.
Braedon gives me a look, which should have been a warning, before he shouts, “Ladies, my brother needs to get laid. Anyone want to help?”
His voice booms loud enough for anyone in the vicinity to hear over the music playing in the background. Immediately, I glance over to Jenna’s table of friends, and our eyes meet. They are wide enough, I know she’s heard. What I don’t expect is the hurt. Fuck.
Before I can say anything, like the idiot I am, several women have responded to my brother’s call. He introduces me, and not wanting to be an asshole, I stay to nod and explain away my brother’s enthusiastic shout. By the time the women leave, Jenna’s gone and so are her friends.
I spend the rest of the night trying to be in the moment with my brother and forget about Jenna Rhoades.
That turns out to be my motto for the following week, which is brutal. Seeing Jenna again ignited a bomb in me. It feels like I’ve lost her all over again.
Braedon snaps his fingers in my face. “The force is strong in this one.”
“The force?” I snap.
The Cruel and Beautiful Series Boxset Page 99
