by Katie Ashley
Becca gave a slight shake of her head. “He isn’t out there.”
I blinked at her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, he isn’t at the altar. He…” She threw a look at the others before she could finish. “He isn’t even here at the church.”
Unease pricked over my skin. “What do you mean he’s not here? The wedding is in an hour. He knew we were going to take the pictures before.” It had been his idea to get the photos out of the way so we could get to the reception earlier. In the back of my mind, I couldn’t help feeling slightly suspicious that it might be bad luck for him to see me before the ceremony.
“He’s probably just running late,” Mom suggested.
With a furious shake of my head, I countered, “Declan is never late. He is irritatingly punctual.”
“Any number of things could be preventing him from being here. A flat tire. An accident.”
“He could at least call to let me know he was going to be late.”
As if on cue, my phone began ringing. A relieved smile lit up my mother’s face. “See there. He’s calling.”
Always the pessimist, I said, “It’s probably a telemarketer.”
Becca dove across the table to grab it. Once she recovered it, her eyes widened. “It’s Declan.”
While I tried to act calm, cool, and collected on the outside, I found myself screaming with relief on the inside. “Hey, honey,” I said pleasantly. After whirling away from the others, I hissed, “Where are you?”
“Aruba.”
A maniacal laugh escaped my lips. “Now is not the time for jokes.”
“I’m serious.”
“You’re already on our honeymoon?”
“Yeah. I took an early flight.”
With my free hand, I swept my hand to the back of my neck to swipe away the beads of sweat. “Normally one gets married before they go on their honeymoon.”
“I’m sorry, Pey.”
“I’m confused. Are you sorry for leaving early, or are you’re sorry for something else?” Before he could answer, I plowed on through. “I mean, excuse me for being slightly addled. I would imagine shell-shocked is a better description.”
“I can’t marry you.”
Oh God. Even though the tiny voice in the back of my mind had dared to utter it, I couldn’t fathom Declan was actually verbalizing it. “You can’t marry me,” I repeated lamely.
“No. I can’t.” His ragged breath crackled through the phone. “More than anything, you shouldn’t want to marry me.”
“I’m wearing a two-thousand-dollar wedding dress while two hundred of our closest friends and family are on their way to the church. That should cement the fact I want to marry you.”
“In spite of all of that, I’m not the right man for you, and I should have never let it go this far.” Let this go this far? What. The. Hell?
My hurt and rage suddenly channeled Adam Sandler from The Wedding Singer, I screamed, “You know that information would have been a little more useful YESTERDAY.”
“I know. I’m a bastard, and I don’t expect you to forgive me.”
“You’re lucky you’re in Aruba because so help me God if you were close, I would break every bone in your body!”
“And I would deserve it.”
Dammit, how was he being so resigned and calm while I felt like I was being shattered into thousands of tiny pieces? How long has he been thinking this? That’s when I was assaulted with a nauseating thought. “Is there someone else?” An image formed in my mind of him lying on one of the sandy beaches under an umbrella with another woman. A blonde with bigger breasts and a smaller ass.
“Hell no. It’s nothing like that.”
His response had the opposite effect on me. Instead of feeling relieved that he hadn’t strayed emotionally and physically, a hollow feeling echoed within me. “Then what is it?” What could possibly have made him do a 180 from the rehearsal dinner last night to fleeing the country.
“I woke up this morning and realized my entire life was already all planned out for me at twenty years old. There were no what-ifs. No curves in the road. Nothing but a straight line from now until I dropped dead.”
“That isn’t true. Neither of us know what the future holds. There could be lots of crazy curves, but we could navigate them together.”
“I’m sorry, Pey. I just can’t. I don’t know who in the hell I am anymore.”
I shook my head. “Maybe you’re right. The Declan I know and love would never stand me up period, least of all on our wedding day.”
“I know. I hate myself for it.”
Rage burned through me. “Yeah, well, I bet I hate you more. May your dick rot off before you die a long, painful death!” I then hung up on him.
The overbearing silence of the room crept up on me. Slowly, I turned around to see my bridal party and mother staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at me. Pity radiated back at me from their eyes. Sure, there was anger mixed with it, but for the most part, it was overwhelming pity. After all, how else are you supposed to look at a jilted bride? No one would be looking at Declan with pity. He was probably heading to the beach now to relax in the sun and feel guilty and horrible about himself. But no one nearby would know. He was blissfully anonymous. The coward.
“Get me out of this dress,” I commanded.
My five bridesmaids lunged forward, and a flurry of hands and arms began to dismantle me from my satin prison. Instead of dissolving into weeping and gnashing of teeth, I just stood there, staring ahead. I didn’t even flinch when one of their nails poked me in their frenzied pursuit. My heart should have been aching in grief, but instead, I felt numb.
“Why isn’t she crying?” my cousin, Sarah, whispered—both concern and fear vibrating in her voice.
“She’s…in shock,” Becca replied.
Once I was freed from the yards of beautiful satin and beading, I took a few slow steps away from the dress. When I got to the mirror, I stood in nothing but my white bustier, gut-sucking-in spanx, and my lacy garter. As I’d slid the garter on, I’d giggled at the thought of Declan removing it with his teeth just before he tossed it to his awaiting groomsmen. Instead, it was my French manicured fingers that slid it down my thigh before tossing it into the trash.
“Honey, what do you want us to do?” Mom asked.
I want you to get a backhoe in here so I can erect an actual hole in the floor for me to crawl in and die. “The guests will be arriving soon. Someone needs to stand at the door and tell them not to waste their toasters or flatware on me because the wedding is off.”
After giving me yet another pitied look, Mom nodded. “Your father and I will take care of it. Why don’t you go on home and rest?”
“That sounds like a great idea. Just as soon as I stop off at the liquor store.” I winked at my bridesmaids. “Our house is dry as a bone since Daddy is a preacher.”
Inside of dissolving into laughter, the girls remained silent. I cocked my head at them. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me your sense of humor has died just because I’m a jilted bride?” I widened my eyes at Kara, my best friend. “Do you know what I just realized?”
She slowly shook her blonde head. “What?”
“I’m Granny Weatherall.”
Her brows furrowed. “Who?”
With a roll of my eyes, I replied, “Oh my God, don’t you remember? The Jilting of Granny Weatherall that we read in eleventh grade. We had to write an essay about it, and we both felt so bad for Granny because the worst thing in the world that could ever happen would be getting left at the altar?”
Tears sparkled in her blue eyes. “I don’t remember the story.”
“Aw, Kara, don’t cry about it. It’s okay if you don’t remember.”
“But I’m not crying about not remembering.”
Right. “Oh, I get it. You’re crying because you just realized I’m Granny Weatherall.”
Mom stepped between us. Placing both hands on my shoulders, she then spoke slowly and evenly l
ike I was a little girl. “Peyton, we’re going to get you dressed. I’m going to have Becca and Kara take you home, and then I’m going to get Dr. Preston to come by to give you a sedative.”
When your dad was a minister with a straight line to the big guy upstairs, he reaped certain VIP benefits. One of those was the local family doctor would make a house call to administer some happy juice to knock your jilted daughter out of her misery.
Words escaped me, so I merely bobbed my head in agreement. For the next few minutes, I was a dress-up doll as my mother and sister put me back into the button-down shirt and capris I’d worn to the church.
Once I was dressed, Mom nodded to Becca. “Go ahead and crank the car.”
As I watched Becca leave the room, I whispered, “I don’t want to see anyone.”
“You won’t. Papa pulled the car up to the backdoor. Everyone else will be at the front.”
“Good.”
A knock came at the door, which caused me to jump out of my skin. At what must’ve been my panicked look, Mom gave me a reassuring look. “Don’t worry. I’m not letting anyone in here.”
“Thanks.”
After cracking the door, she peered into the hallway with a steely look of determination on her face. I was pretty sure in that moment she would have physically taken out anyone who tried to bust in the room, which was saying a lot considering her diminutive frame. When her expression softened, a relieved breath whooshed out of me. “Come on in, Harris.”
At the sight of my grandfather’s face, the dam holding my emotions together imploded, and I once again began to cry. “Oh, Peybug,” Papa murmured. When he opened his arms to me, I gratefully fell into them. From the time I was just a little girl, I’d always felt safest in his arms. Although I couldn’t ask for better parents than my mom and dad, there had always been something special between Papa and me.
“I’m so sorry, honey.”
“I keep thinking I’m going to wake up to find it’s been a horrible dream.”
“I wish it was just a dream, too. It breaks my heart to see you in this much pain.”
I shook my head against his chest. “How could he do this to me?”
A ragged sigh rumbled through him. “I don’t know, Pey. I honestly don’t know.”
Pushing back, I stared into his wise brown eyes. “If you’d asked me twenty minutes ago if I ever thought Declan would jilt you, I would have said no with absolute certainty. But sometimes in spite of how well we think we know someone, we don’t, and no matter how hard we love them, we can’t save them from failing.”
“Oh Papa, what am I going to do?”
His hands left my back to come to cup my cheeks. “This day won’t define you, Peyton. You’re far too strong for that.”
“No offense, but I’m pretty sure getting jilted by the love of your life isn’t just a little blip along life’s road. It’s more like getting hit by a semi.”
“You will overcome this. It won’t be easy. There are many tough hours and days ahead of you. But at the end of your life, this will just be a faint memory in retrospect to all you have overcome and accomplished.”
Cocking my brows at him, I countered, “How can you be so sure? I could start drowning my jilted sorrows in alcohol, which would become the gateway drug to heroin.”
Papa shook his head. “The only addictive tendency you have is pleasing people and working your butt off to succeed at everything you do.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t succeed at being a bride, did I?”
“We are only accountable for the wrongs we make in life, and today isn’t your fault. You did everything within your power to be wife. I mean, you showed up and got in a poofy white dress, didn’t you?”
The corners of my lips quirked slightly. “I did.”
“Then you succeeded.”
“I’m pretty sure no one else is going to see it that way. To everyone in town, Peyton Beasley wasn’t enough to keep her man. Peyton Beasley failed.”
“To quote another exceptional woman, Eleanor Roosevelt, ‘No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.’”
I didn’t quite share Papa and Eleanor’s resolve. The thought of seeing anyone outside my family sent a crippling panic through me. That panic caused my stomach to churn, and I fought my gag reflex. Since I couldn’t find my voice, I merely shook my head.
“Peyton, I don’t speak with certainty about a lot of things. But I can say without a doubt in my mind that you’re going to become a damn good veterinarian. You’re going to save the lives of animals, and by saving those lives, you’ll enrich the lives of their human counterparts. Your life will have purpose. And one day when the time is right, your prince charming will come along.”
It wasn’t just his words that gave me a renewed sense of purpose, but it was also the conviction in which he delivered them. I knew he wasn’t just blowing smoke up my ass in my time of distress. He honestly believed every word he had said. And that fact alone gave me the strength I desperately needed. Maybe I would find a prince charming, but even if I didn’t, my life would matter. I would matter.
With tears clouding my eyes, I whispered, “Thank you.”
Papa smiled. “No need to thank me. We’ll get through this together.”
I nodded. “Yes. Together.”
Chapter Three
The Present
It was a little after nine in the morning when I drove past the hand-carved Welcome to Hayesville sign as I coasted down Main Street. It probably should go without saying that I hadn’t slept well the night before. Although Kieran had given me two doses of sexual healing, I’d found myself on edge, rather than being relaxed. Sensing there was something wrong, he’d offered to stay the night, but I’d assured him I was fine. The last thing I needed was for my grief to override one of my principles that hookups didn’t get extremely personal details or stay the night. Oh shit. I was starting to sound like a man.
With a disgusted groan, I twisted my hands tighter around the steering wheel. My disgust came from both my behavior about Kieran and the fact I was even thinking about him considering what I’d come home to do. The only man I should have been thinking about was Papa. I was in mourning for fuck’s sake. I shouldn’t have been thinking about Kieran wrecking my vagina the night before, least of all Declan who had wrecked my life, not my vagina.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Even though we’d been young, there had been passion and heat between Declan and me. Although he’d already sowed some wild oats by the time we got together our senior year, he was my first. Over the years and after many lovers, I could still say with certainty he knew what he was doing.
Throwing my hands up, I shouted, “Dammit, Peyton! Would you focus?”
When I threw a glance to my right, a man in a pickup truck was staring at me like I had lost my mind. Or maybe he thought I was just another weird out-of-towner. Ducking my head, I sank down in my seat. My foot slammed on the accelerator the moment the light turned green.
When the brick building on the corner came into sight, I began slowing my car. Even after all these years, it was just as I had remembered it. After a quick glance in my rearview mirror, I whipped my car into one of the parking spaces. With my heart beating like a brass band in my chest, I threw the car into park and grabbed my purse. After searching for my key chain (I had one of those “fancy button cars” as Papa would say), I flipped to the gold one.
Although he knew I didn’t plan on entering town anytime soon, Papa still insisted on me knowing the alarm codes for both of his houses and his practice. He also kept me up to date with a set of keys. I guess in a weird way he probably thought it was another way of giving me a tie to Hayesville. Like one day the fact I had the key to his practice would make me want to abandon Atlanta and come back home for good.
Since my parents weren’t expecting me until later, I felt like I had time to go inside. I didn’t know if one of the vet techs had already come to do the morning feedings for the surgical patients or the do
gs being boarded. Keeping my head down, I hustled across the sidewalk and up to the front door. My hand shook slightly as I slid the key into the hole.
After unlocking the door, I stepped inside. With a smile, I realized the alarm keypad was still in the same place. I punched in the code and disabled the alarm. As I turned back around, I took in the warm red, blues, and greens of the waiting room. While the furniture had changed, the color scheme had not. The giant saltwater aquarium was still in the back corner. With my face pressed against the tank, I’d spent hours as a kid watching the fish swim.
Walking past the reception desk, I opened the door leading to the examining rooms. Papa always had the canine examining rooms on the left and the feline on the right. After poking my head in one of the doors, I smiled that it was still the same. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Papa was an extreme creature of habit.
As memories swirled in my head, I continued purposefully walking. One room in particular was drawing me. When I turned to the left down the other hallway, I stopped at the first door. For a moment, my hand hovered over the knob. I wasn’t sure I could handle what was inside. Shuttering my eyes, I sucked in a deep breath before opening the door.
Before I took a step inside, a familiar voice echoed through my mind. “Peyton Anne, what are you doing standing there in the doorway? Come on in here and tell me all about your day.”
Tears streaked down my cheeks at the sweet memory of how Papa always greeted me. When I opened my eyes, I wished more than anything to find him sitting in his chair. But it was empty. Slowly, I stepped across the oak floorboards as I made my way over to his desk. The same worn, high-back chair was in front of the mahogany desk that had belonged to my great-grandfather.
Pulling the chair back, I eased into the seat. As I scanned over the framed photographs on the desk, tears once again overflowed. Some of the photos were of my grandmother, who had been gone for fifteen years. Others were of my father when he was a little boy. The knife of grief twisted further in my chest at the picture of me in my cap and gown at my graduation from vet school. With an arm around my waist, Papa was leaned in, kissing my cheek while my I smiled at the camera.
