One Day After Never (The Second Time's the Charm STANDALONE Series Book 1)

by Whitney Walker

  “I want to know that you are the one who will be by my side forever. In good times and bad, sickness and health. Just as Nick said, I want to say those vows with you in front of everyone we know. I want to declare my never-ending, over-the-top, can’t-live-a-day-without-you love for you in front of the world.”

  He looks around, making eye contact with the crowd, privileged to see his pronouncement. This is for them, not me.

  Then there is the question. I cringe from the multitude of bright flashes popping against the darkening sky. The crowd watches a stunned girl nod her head. I will not say yes out loud until I am accepting a proposal to marry my best friend. As I think of undoing this mess, more tears slide down my cheeks as the too-large ring slides down my finger. Like Victoria, I outstretch my arm and stare at my hand in disbelief.

  Kyle stands, moving in for a kiss. The very last thing on earth I want to do is kiss him. You are an actress, Peyton Jennings. Act. His lips find mine. I count in my head, one one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand. Mercifully, it’s over.

  The crowd begins to clap and cheer. Kyle beelines to the director, who congratulates him with motions resembling a fraternity secret handshake. Kyle whispers in his ear and they laugh. I’m surrounded by a swarm of women enthusiastically congratulating and envying me, ogling my dead weight. A dozen times I hear the word lucky. Hardly the case.

  “The real party is over, people. Let’s get the fake one on. Pronto. Some of us have other things, and people, to do this evening,” the director squawks crassly, cracking himself up at his joke. No wonder he and Kyle are friends.

  Not one, but two makeup artists descend, scoffing at the disaster that is my face. One wipes at the mascara then tags out shaking his head. A woman steps in with a makeup sponge and aggressively applies a new layer of foundation. The director is huffing across the set, “Are we ready yet? First position, let’s gooooo.” He draws out the word and flops himself back into his tall chair.

  The door in front of the four of us swings open, and we pass through with an entourage following, showering unscripted congratulations on Victoria, much as many others had done to me a moment before. I can feel Kyle’s piercing eyes. Victoria gushes, recalling the beautiful words of love that Nick used to propose. My first spoken lines in a movie. “A girl certainly couldn’t say no to that! I’m so jealous! We can’t wait to help you plan the wedding, Victoria!” As I deliver the lines the irony makes me want to laugh out loud as I choke through the words.

  Kyle is still waiting in the crowd lining the set as we wrap over an hour later. As I exit, he catches my hand, interlocking his fingers with mine. We walk hand in hand, fake-happy couple, to my car. He opens the door and I hurry inside to avoid kissing him again. “See you soon,” he says, closing the door. I am grateful he lets me leave without much fuss.

  Is he following me? I turn left, then right. He is still behind me. Hell no. Please no. I park and hurry to the elevator, where he casually leans against the wall, looking pleased, conquest complete.

  “Please go home, Kyle. I am really tired.”

  “You should be,” he says, reaching to pull me into his arms.

  I push off his chest. “Seriously, Kyle, can we just talk about this tomorrow? Please?”

  “Talk about what, babe? Your brilliant acting today?”

  Yes, my acting had been brilliant.

  “Aren’t you so glad that I got you that part? You got to deliver your first lines! No way you won’t make the final cut!”

  I glare at him. “What did you say?”

  “Which thing? You were brilliant?”

  “About the part.”

  “That I got you the part? Of course I did. I owe you so much, Pey.”

  I am livid. Line crossed. Here I was, thinking all along I had earned my way, only to find out it is all a farce.

  “It was clutch! How else was I going to have the perfect setting to propose to the woman I love?”

  Finding no words to express my anger, I scowl and push open the door to my apartment. For the second time today, I am overwhelmed by a mob of women greeting me with congratulations. Multiple hands seize mine, twisting and pulling the ring in their direction for further inspection.

  “Oh my God, it’s beautiful!”

  “It’s sooooo big, Peyton!”

  “I want my own Tiffany!”

  How many minutes am I required to endure? Through the crowd I see there is a spread of food to feed twenty to thirty people to the left. Along the right wall, a long bar holds a plethora of glass bottles and mixers. A party? For our fake engagement? The doorbell rings. Let the hell continue.

  A few hours and pain-dulling drinks later, I finally retreat to my bedroom. I wrap myself in my t-shirt quilt, wishing my mother could give me advice on getting out of this one.

  I’m awakened by Kyle crawling into bed next to me. Hell no! I try to sit up, but he hovers over me, lips close to my face.

  “Peyton,” he slurs.

  Drunk? High? Both? After I was coerced to smile through the obligatory toast, I managed to use the crowd to keep a distance. I have no idea what time it is or how much mayhem has ensued since I snuck away. I try to shift my body out from under him. “Please, Kyle, I’m so tired. Can we please just talk about this tomorrow? Can you please just leave me alone?”

  “I’m never leaving you alone, Peyton. Don’t you know that? We are getting married.”

  “Like hell, I am marrying you, Kyle.”

  Now I’ve done it. Why couldn’t I just keep my damn mouth shut?

  “What do you mean like hell you are marrying me? Did we not just get engaged tonight?”

  I’m not stuck beneath him any longer because he’s on his feet, hands firm on his hips.

  “Just go, please!” I beg.

  “You don’t have any intention of marrying me, Peyton?”

  “Did you really think I was going to marry you? You were just going to waltz in there with a diamond and I was going to forgive everything and spend the rest of my life with you?”

  “When you said yes, yeah, Peyton, I kind of did. When I committed to you for the rest of my life? In front of all those people? That’s how proposals work, Peyton. I asked and you said yes. You said yes to forever!”

  “I said yes because hundreds of eyeballs were staring at me. What was I going to do? Humiliate you in front of all those people? If you knew anything about me or gave a shit, you would know that I would never want to be proposed to in front of a crowd of people.”

  “You lying bitch. You said yes!”

  I feel his rage beginning to course.

  “I won’t live without you, Peyton.”

  The sliver of light from the open door illuminates the ring on my nightstand. He reaches for it, then for my hand. He tries to shove it back on my finger, but I move it into a fist and try to pull away.

  “Let me go!”

  He twists my wrist in his strong hand then pushes me back onto the bed. I grab my blanket and cover myself as if it will protect me, curling into a ball. I need a new plan. I say calmly, “You’re a great catch, Kyle. I am sure someone will sweep you off your feet in no time.”

  “God damn it, Peyton. I don’t want someone. I want you, and I get what I want. And if I don’t, my mother does. No one says no to my mother.”

  He knew? A grown man relying on his mother to get a woman? I know better than to say another word about it. I change the plan. “It’s not you, it’s me. You don’t want me. I am screwed up in a million ways. I wouldn’t be a good wife. I wasn’t even a good daughter. I’ve never had a normal relationship in my life.” Including ours. Ours was definitely not normal. “Trust me. You can do better. You can even tell everyone that you broke up with me and I won’t say a word.”

  I am hopeful this tactic will work. His silhouette is ominous. His shadow projects on the wall across from me looking like a bear ready to pounce. Play dead. I cover my head with my hands and squeeze my eyes closed as if not seeing him can make him not
be here. He snatches the blanket and I hear the sound of fabric tearing. I scramble to my knees. “No! Please, Kyle, no!” I am on my feet and trying to pull the blanket from his hands. “Please, that’s from my mother!”

  “You’ve been nothing but a bitch since the day your mother died!” Another tearing sound. And again. Over and over. My fists pound his back in hysteria as he turns his body to keep it away from me. “It’s better I shred this than your face!” His arm pulls the fabric taut and it gives way, breaking free. I am knocked backward onto the bed. My head hits the wall with an echoing thud. Ouch.

  “Oh fuck, Peyton.” He scoops me up like a baby, arm under bent knees and the other behind my back. I am crying. From the pain and because he has destroyed the last thing I had from my mother. As soon as I move past the pain in my head I kick hard, arching my back unexpectedly and throwing myself to standing.

  “Get. Out. Now!” I don’t recognize my roar, fierce and demanding. “Out! Now!”

  “I’m so sorry, Peyton. Promise me we will talk about this. Promise me.”

  “Get. Out,” I seethe through clenched teeth.

  Hayden and Jenna appear in the doorway. “Everything okay? We heard a noise.”

  I remain staring straight at Kyle. “Don’t worry about me, girls. It was just my head. Kyle was just leaving.” Neither says a word as he brushes past, out of the room. Jenna starts toward me. “Leave me alone.” Both back up and I slam the door, curl up in bed, and cry myself to sleep.

  DECEMBER 22nd

  CHAPTER 27 | Peyton

  S omething is ringing. Am I dreaming of Christmas bells? Is it my alarm? I’m definitely in a bed. It’s a real ring somewhere. Phone. Yep, phone. I smack for the nightstand. Why did I leave the ringer on? Hoping for J.T. to call. Oh yes.

  I half-open one eye and answer with a groggy, “Hello.”

  “Uh-oh. Maybe I should call back.”

  “Hi, Jack.”

  “I’d say good morning, but I think maybe I’ve just contributed to not so good.” He laughs.

  I smile. I am happy to be waking up in Detroit to Jack calling. Never could I have imagined feeling that. Then again, anywhere would have been better than California the last nine days, spent watching my phone blow up and avoiding my roommates.

  The tense feeling inside our four walls was exacerbated when, on my way to work, I stumbled into their conversation about Kyle and an impending death march. I begged them to spend their time convincing him to get help for depression and addiction instead of spending time winning me back. I’m crushed they appear only to be worried about him and blaming me. I feel friendless and lonely. The very time a girl wishes she could call her mom.

  At least I have a house and one friend in Detroit.

  “It’s all good, Jack. I just slept well is all.”

  “Sorry I didn’t pick you up last night. You were kind to understand it was past my bedtime. Thanks for texting you had arrived. And Merry almost Christmas. I’m so glad you made it back. It means a lot to have you here. I miss your mom like crazy.”

  “Me too, Jack. There have been a few times I could have used some advice.”

  “Well, you got me, kid, if you ever need me.”

  My heart melts at his sentiment. I’ve finally got someone if I need someone. I don’t know how this happened, but I am glad that it has.

  “What are your plans today?” he asks.

  “I’ve got some shopping to do.”

  “Well, if you are not too busy, I’d love an extra set of hands if you want to help me cook for Christmas Eve. No pressure though.” He laughs again and I know he means it.

  “I’d love to. I’ll text you later.”

  “You plan to see that fine young man who had you smiling like the cat who ate the canary last I left you?”

  “I hope so. He returns from Africa tomorrow.”

  “Well, he’s welcome for dinner too. I’d love to see him again.”

  He seems genuine in his statement and I appreciate his offer. “Thanks, Jack. I’ll let him know.”

  We hang up and I fall into my pillow, content. Never could I have imagined having hope of finding new meaning in Christmas. I spent yesterday’s plane ride contemplating my future. I’ll find out soon enough what my inheritance will bring. I feel forced to find a new place to live. Maybe it shouldn’t be in California. Will I be able to keep my mother’s house? Attend college in Michigan? Or perhaps, Chicago? Or maybe I should explore Africa and see if I have the potential to help others.

  My phone dings again. A text from J.T.!

  Counting down hours til home and u! back 23rd @ 11 cst…too late to call???

  I quickly reply with,

  please call…can’t wait! Be safe! We have plans ��

  He returns:

  wish I could talk, have to run but know I can’t wait to see you…and a few other things ��.

  And yeah, I know your brain went there. ZOO

  I reply,

  Truth! ZOO 2U2!

  I add a couple of lip emojis for good measure.

  I flip through our Chicago selfies on my phone and laugh at our diner picture taken by Zane. I think about J.T. removing the dress after midnight on New Year’s Eve.

  I will see him soon! Will he spend Christmas Eve with me and Jack? I know he plans to spend Christmas with his mom and Ellie. Unfortunately for me, he’d made plans to continue an eight-year post-Christmas tradition of skiing in Northern Michigan. Two married friends have a hall pass to spend time with the guys, expecting babies to replace buddies next year. But we have couples kind of plans, kissing one another at midnight to bring in what will surely be my happiest new year.

  Will J.T. introduce me to his mother? Buy me a Christmas present? Should I get him something?

  Before my brain completely runs off the rails, I put my feet on the floor. I need yoga. The added bonus is doing it without having to look over my shoulder for Kyle.

  The chill in the air is replaced by the warmth of the fire and the people in the yoga studio.

  “Welcome back, Peyton!” greets me from across the room’s reception.

  “Hi, Lynn! It’s good to be here!”

  Alexandra strides toward me. “How’s California this time of year? I sure miss that weather!”

  “Hi, Alexandra. Yes, the weather is nice, but I sure missed you and this studio!”

  “Are you here for the holiday?”

  “Yep, as scary as it is. It’s a new kind of celebration for me this year. I’m grateful to be here.” I don’t suppose I should share that I can’t wait to see a guy I met at my mother’s funeral.

  “Gratitude rules the happy world. That’s good. It’s a tough time of year for a lot of people.”

  Her sincerity insinuates she might mean for herself as well. I hesitate, unsure what to say next, but I don’t have to figure it out because she’s distracted by other students. I watch as they interact then take in the others mingling in the lobby. So much goodness happens on the mat that can be taken into the real world. The welcoming fire, the quotes I know I can grow into, and the shared smiles in this studio make it feel like home.

  We start class in child’s pose because, as Alexandra’s smooth voice cajoles us inside ourselves, we all need an extra moment to stop and settle down at the busiest time of the year.

  “Take a deep breath in, feel your lungs expand against your legs, and blow out a long breath through your mouth. Let me hear you let it all go.” The studio relaxes in a collective sigh, peace settling into the room.

  “Everybody, allow yourself a seventy-three-minute break. The holidays can be a wonderful time, but they are always a stressful time. Most times people are just doing the best they can to get by, so proceed mindfully, keep breathing, and err on the side of love.”

  Forehead against the mat, and belly resting on my knees, with soft piano and string music playing, nearly lulls me to sleep. In just a minute I will move into poses that will force my limbs to California earthquake-tremble, but for this
moment I am merely breathing, with nothing to break up the peaceful feeling I only experience here, with forty or so other people doing nothing but breathing together.

  I’m almost an hour closer to talking to J.T. That’s my gratitude in my exhaustion. Class has to be coming to an end. I hope his trip is easy and on time so we can talk before I fall asleep. Too bad he isn’t coming straight to Michigan. He could be in my bed sooner. He’d needed his ski gear and said his shorts probably wouldn’t cut the Michigan winter weather. He should have shipped his stuff ahead. That would probably be expensive.

  What did it feel like to come back to everything from a place that has nothing? Does he appreciate the basics so much more? Water coming from multiple faucets with just a turn? Toilets that flush with a touch? Electrical outlets every six feet by code?

  Oh. My. God.

  How long has my mind been off my mat? We are moving to Savasana and I missed a whole side of pigeon pose.

  “If you’ve realized that your breath has taken a back seat to your thoughts, and you didn’t even get sixty of the seventy-five-minute break that you were looking for, please come back and see us again tomorrow, because we call this practice for a reason.”

  Alexandra finishes class with her last bit of wisdom, many people chuckling at the comment. I take comfort in knowing we are all in this together, just trying to get through class, and life, one more breath at a time.

  I head to Starbuck’s after class, only to be greeted by a very long line. Luckily, I am still in a yoga Zen state. Turning to observe the crowd gathering behind me, I see Alexandra in line near the end. I motion for her to join me. Hopefully, those who notice her taking cuts are in the Christmas spirit. When it’s our turn to order, I motion for Alexandra to go first so I can pick up the tab.

  “Thank you for the offer, but it’s not necessary.”

  “It’s hardly a fair trade for what you give me. Since my peace is priceless, I can’t return that favor!”

  We both order and move to the pickup area.

  “I’ll let you in on a little secret, Peyton. I hate to admit it, but I think I might get more out of teaching than I give.”