Lover Boy

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  Nova stomps her cocktail-covered foot. “We’re here to speak to Joshua,” she announces.

  “Yeah,” I pipe in. “Sophia’s our best friend and Josh is a shifty asshole. We’re here to give him a warning.”

  Nova’s head bobs in agreement. “We absolutely, positively would cut a bitch if he did anything out of line tonight. He’s marrying our friend tomorrow so he needs to know that his bachelor party does not give him license to act like a fuck-boy ass-hat tonight.”

  I lean close and speak menacingly. “Yeh! What she said!”

  Coming here tonight was my idea. I’ll own it. After the way Leo flipped into emotional withdrawal mode, leaving me sad and shattered, I’m rightly distrustful of the male faction of our populus. All men are looking a little snakish to me these days and I just want to guard my friend against the heartache that I’m living.

  “Look—you two have nothing to worry about,” Charlie assures us. “I saw him a few minutes ago and he was fine. A little jittery but nothing out of the ordinary. The ceremony will go off without a hitch tomorrow and Sophia will get her fairytale ending.”

  “I need to hear him say it,” Nova insists.

  He sighs in frustration. “I’ll pass the message along,” he promises us. “Now, will you two please get the hell out of here? Before you see things you can’t un-see.”

  Nova and I exchange a look. We hadn’t foreseen this level of debauchery when we came in here to speak to Josh. I mean, there’s a guy in a speedo tied to a mechanical bull while different women take turns riding him. That can’t possibly end well.

  Charlie speaks up again. “I’ll make sure that Joshie Bear is a good boy tonight. I swear.”

  “Fine,” I say. I loop my arm through Nova’s.

  She gives Charlie one last glare. “When the hell will you grow up, you scoundrel? I can’t believe you’re 28.”

  A strange look passes over her face. True disappointment, not just that playful mutual taunting that they’re always up to. As she spins on her heel, embarrassment flickers over my brother’s features for just a moment. Weird. It vanishes when the stripper plops back into his lap.

  “You look so young for 28,” the airhead muses. “Look at your skin! You’re gonna age well!” She gives him a reassuring wink.

  “Thanks,” he mumbles, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Now, take off your bra.”

  I hear Nova growl behind me, disgust lacing her tone. “Are you coming or what?” she barks at me.

  The room roars as a Kid Rock song comes on. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter 41

  Leo

  I’m really missing Reese right now.

  We haven’t spent the night together in almost a week. But knowing that she’s all the way across the country really fucks with me tonight.

  I hate the way things are between us now. I never wanted to hurt her. I keep telling myself that I did the right thing by ending whatever it was that was budding between us. It was starting to get complicated. It was starting to get real.

  Back at the beginning, kissing her, touching her was a game. It was about taking risks, testing boundaries, finding pleasure in the shadows. It was an escape. But I started feeling things for her and the night that Brent got hurt, I realized just how deep I was falling. I was giving in to distraction when my boy really needs my full attention. He already lost one parent. I can’t neglect him, too.

  As much as I want Reese, I can’t have her.

  All that reasoning is perfectly logical but my brain is an illogical asshole. I want to feel her next to me at night. I want to hear her breathing in the dark with her body tucked against mine. These nights without her have been pure hell. I’m not sure how I’m going to go back to the way it was before I knew what it was like to be with her.

  I stumble out of bed and tiptoe down the stairs. I grab my bottle of whiskey from the cabinet above the sink and the packet of cigarettes, too. Planting myself on the back step, I lean back and stare at the cigarette box in my hand.

  I want one so bad right now. My hand twitches from the craving. It would be so easy to just tear one of these nicotine sticks out of the package, bring it to my lips, set it on fire…

  Fuck!

  I crush the box in my fist, cursing up at the starless sky. A part of me wishes I’d never met her. That I’d never seen the moon through her eyes, that I’d never felt the softness of her hair as it slipped through my fingertips. If she’d never given me a glimpse of happiness, I’d still be living in the emptiness I’d become used to. I wouldn’t know the difference. I wouldn’t feel this sadness so deeply.

  Giving the cigarettes one last glance, I toss them into the garbage bin across the deck. I drop my head into my hands.

  I need to get some of this shit off of my chest. Shoving my hand into my pocket, I pull out my cellphone.

  As I hit the ‘dial’ button and listen to the phone ring, I silently pray that the phone number is still in service. A deep baritone comes through the line. For once Heaven shows me some mercy. “This is Archibald.”

  I chuckle to myself. “What’s up with the dramatic greeting? You a mob boss now?”

  His laugh comes out as a low rumble. “Fuck off, civilian. You’re all settled down in the suburbs with your kid and your hot babysitter and your turkey dinner. A true soldier never lets his guard down.”

  “Thanks for the reminder.” That was my first mistake. I let my guard down. I let the pretty, little thing next door invade my senses. Now, my busted and bruised heart is a prisoner of war.

  Archie would laugh his ass off if he could hear my Shakesparean musings right now. Charlie would kick my ass if he knew that my bad poetry was about his sister.

  “So, what part of the country do you find yourself in today?” I ask, hiding behind the small talk so I don’t have to face the very real, very profound crisis taking place in my brain right now.

  He chuckles a little. “Cruising through southern California as we speak, man. With the top down on the old Chevy, the wind blowing in my hair, country music playing on the radio, a pretty girl by my side.” I hear a contented female laugh pour into the phone, mixing with the steady rhythm of the guitar and the rustle of the wind along the coast.

  “Sounds like a Tim McGraw music video.”

  His voice takes on a somber cadence. “Just a little piece of heaven before I get thrust back into the jaws of hell.” My gut wrenches because I know what’s coming. “I’m deploying in seventy-two hours.”

  “Archie…”

  “I’ve been restless. Been looking for my purpose. Can’t find it here, stateside. I’ve got to face the battle again.”

  I exhale roughly. Still, I know exactly where he’s coming from. I felt that way too at one point. But now, all I can think about is my son and providing for him, taking care of him. “Shit…” is all I manage to say.

  Archie forces his usual exuberance into his voice. “Anyway, I’ll worry about that tomorrow. Right now, me and Krissy are just trying to figure out what sort of trouble we can get ourselves into in the next few hours before her heavy-fisted daddy realizes that she’s missing. Right, Sugar?” Those high-pitched giggles ring out again.

  Man, they’re starting to grate on my nerves. Especially since I don’t have anything of my own to laugh about.

  “So, what’s burning to the ground in your world?” he asks me. “How come you called me? Don’t tell me that your little game of mommy and daddy with Charlie’s sister already managed to blow up in your face.”

  I grunt roughly. “I put an end to that.”

  “Now, why would that be?”

  “It was getting too heavy, too serious.”

  “That’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

  “For her, it is. I’m not the type of man she should be running around with. I’ve got an overactive kid who needs my attention, a head full of nightmares that plague my sleep. She deserves someone nice, someone normal.”

  “Is that what she told you?”


  “She didn’t have to. Things just started happening and I realized that I need to focus on my kid, on helping him adjust. I have too much on my plate to be the kind of man she needs.”

  My friend goes silent and when he speaks again he sounds pensive. “And why couldn’t she be a part of that? Why couldn’t she be a part of the process of you settling into your new life? She doesn’t have to be a distraction. She can be a help, your partner.”

  “It’s not fair to her. She’s 24. Just getting her life together. Trying to build her business. I come with way too much baggage.”

  “You can leave the baggage aside when you’re with her. Just enjoy her. Women are meant to be enjoyed. Especially the good ones.”

  “We tried keeping things light, simple. Physical. But she started falling for me. And…” My voice trails off.

  “And you were falling for her.” He fills in the missing piece.

  My throat goes tight. I know the answer. But I don’t want to hear myself say it out loud. That would make it real. And once it’s real, I have to admit how out of control I feel.

  Archie sighs at my silence. I hear that girl of his breathing into the phone, her inhalations growing heavy and labored. She’s kissing him. I can hear the smacking of her lips and her whining for attention.

  “Whoa!” Archie yelps. The girl screams, too. Horns blare in the background. “Baby, not when I’m driving. Let’s save the good stuff for when we get to the hotel room.”

  “Seems like you’re busy,” I say, holding the phone away from my face.

  He’s laughing again. Loving life. “Yeah—I should probably get off the phone and get this crazy chick to a safe place for the night.” The playfulness drops from his tone. “Be good to yourself, Montgomery. Grab life by the fucking balls. Before it grabs you. Live a little. Y’know. In case I never see you again…”

  “Don’t talk like that, man.”

  He sounds rueful. As much as a true soldier needs to be on the battlefield, every impending deployment reminds you of your mortality. At least a little bit.

  My words come out much more solemn than I intend them to. “Be careful, brother.”

  “And you…be bold.” He ends the call.

  Chapter 42

  Reese

  “How could he do this to me?” Sophia laments into the wad of tissues clenched in her hands. Totally at a loss for what to say, I rub soothing circles in her back and glance over at Nova for help. “How could he do this? To me? I mean—I know I’m not perfect,” she blows her nose then babbles on, “Sometimes I get a little bossy during sex. And I’m completely codependent when I have my period. And I spend way too much time on my eyebrows. But other than that, I’m a good person.”

  Her shoulders shake and white petals fall from the freesia arrangement in her hair. They land on the floor and are promptly crushed by the inebriated mass of bodies partying mere inches away, totally oblivious to the fact that this girl just got her heart gutted by the man she was ready to marry.

  Nova sinks onto the barstool next to her, sliding yet another dirty martini Sophia’s way. “You’re definitely a good person, Soph! And if you’ve got to tell him what to do during sex then obviously he doesn’t know how to use his tool…And people really underestimate the amount of work that goes into decent eyebrows.”

  Sophia nods shakily, expressing her agreement. “My mother will never look at me again. Never. She will disown me in shame.”

  “She wouldn’t,” I say reassuringly. I’m not sure though. Agata Gallo lives by her social status and this particular event does nothing to raise her profile.

  “And of course, it’s all over Twitter because I hired a social media company…to live-tweet me getting stood up at the alter. I’m so humiliated.” She sobs harder. “I even bought the Instagram add-on.”

  At a loss for words, I just rub her back and share a sympathetic look with Nova.

  A group of rowdy women in their early twenties rush the bar, laughing and having the time of their lives. They all wear identical black tank tops with gold lettering across the front. It’s supposed to be cute but I really hate them right now. I shoot an ugly scowl their way. “Oh excuse me!” the perky blonde wearing the veil and the black tank top with ‘BRIDE’ emblazoned across the front says. Her eyes catch on Sophia’s wedding gown and she gives my friend a pitying onceover and a “So sad…” before turning back to her party of giggly bridesmaids.

  Less than 24 hours ago, that was us, innocuously enjoying Sophia’s classy-in-Las-Vegas bachelorette party. Now, here we are. Joshua didn’t even bother to show up at the church. Sophia is heartbroken and mortified, sitting at a bar getting drunk in her wedding dress. Nova looks like she’d readily perform a castration if she runs into the runaway groom right now. And then there’s Charlie.

  Charlie looks pissed.

  He’s always been protective of both Sophia and Nova, like they were his little sisters, too. He is definitely not happy with Josh right now. “If I get my hands on that fucking son of a bitch…” He punches his left fist into his right palm as he paces the floor in front of the bar.

  Nova spins on her heels and charges at my brother. “Y’know what? Maybe if last night you had pulled your head out of that waterbag-breasted hussy’s tits for five minutes and actually gone and talked to Joshua like we asked you to, this wouldn’t have happened!”

  “I was on a date!” Charlie protests bitterly.

  Nova rolls her eyes. “With a naked stripper at a bachelor party.”

  “She wasn’t naked. She was wearing a dress,” Charlie fights back.

  “Made of see-through mesh,” Nova retorts.

  “A breathable summer fabric!”

  My friend’s eyeballs do a full rotation in their sockets. ”Please! I bet five dollars you can’t even remember her name.”

  “That’s not fair. I never asked.”

  Nova’s hand pops up like a stop sign. “I just can’t with you, Charlie. I just fucking can’t.”

  The two of them continue to bicker. I turn away. I’m on the verge of tears. It’s awful, seeing Sophia get stood up at her wedding. This day meant the world to her. She’d been planning it since the first time Josh kissed her back in the 8th grade. Her whole identity was wrapped up in becoming that douchebag’s wife. And for him to treat her like this. It shreds me.

  Doesn’t he care how much she loves him?

  But that’s the thing with men. They don’t seem to understand just how deeply a woman can love. How far her committment can go. She could wholeheartedly invest herself only to have him get up and walk away without a moment of hesitation or of regret.

  My mind replays Leo’s handsome, expressionless face as he told me that distance is what’s best for us. He has no idea how much it pained me to hear those words fall from his lips. He changed his mind about us in the wink of an eye and I was the one left hurting.

  But I can’t help but feel like all the pain I’m feeling right now is my fault. I need to learn when to walk away. Because some people don’t want to be saved. I’ve got to learn when to leave certain people behind in order to protect my heart.

  As if just to hammer the point home, Martin materializes right in that moment.

  Yes Martin—my show-tunes-loving ex-boyfriend.

  He’s coming through the door of the bar wearing a palm-leaf turtleneck under sharply tailored navy blazer. His hair is brushed carefully off of his face and he takes neat little steps across the dance floor. His grey eyes scan the room and when he spots me, his face explodes into a huge smile.

  “Reesie!” he exclaims as he throws himself at me and his arms swallow me up in a monster of a hug. He doesn’t seem to notice that he’s nearly toppled Sophia off of her barstool and as she sobs into her cocktail, she doesn’t seem to notice either.

  My gaze sweeps across my ex’s refined face. He’s darn handsome. A weird sense of jealousy courses through me when I realize that he’d put up some serious competition if we were ever out on the town tr
olling for cock together.

  Really, Theresa?!

  Instead of saying that out loud, I smooth down my messy hair and plaster a grin across my face. “Martin! What a coincidence running into you here!”

  He gives me a sheepish look. “Not really a coincidence. I’ve been following the live-tweet. The hashtags pretty much led me all the way here.” He glances over his shoulder at Sophia with a condolatory expression. “So sad…”

  “Oh my god,” I mutter. My mortification for Sophia grows.

  But Martin has long moved on. He loops his arm through mine. “Walk with me.”

  “Well, I’m supposed to be looking out for Soph—”

  He waves off my concern. “Oh honey, Sophia’s too spaced out to even realize you’re gone.”

  Without giving me a chance to protest, he drags me through the crowd and out the door to the patio. There are less people here on the windy rooftop and the music is just a distant buzz.

  We sit on the padded benches under the string lights and chitchat a bit about Martin’s new role in the Vegas production of Grease and about some of the new recipes I’m working on for the cupcake shop. The conversation is light and the laughter comes easily as we have a few drinks. For a moment, I can breathe without the boot of depression pressing into my chest.

  Eventually, the conversation turns to relationships. “So, are you seeing anyone?” Martin asks, nibbling on the edge of the straw in his pomegranate martini.

  My shoulders sag when my mind wanders to Leo. “I had a…lover,” I confess sadly. “But that didn’t work out.” Now wanting his pity, I quickly change the subject. “How’s Hans?” I’m not sure I possess the mental stability to withstand the stories of how nauseatingly in love they are. I brace myself.

  But Martin’s response is not at all what I’d expected. He rolls his eyes. “I left Hans,” he announces, his expression schooled in impassivity.

  I lay a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Martin.”