Forever Wanted: Part One: A Contemporary Runaway Bride Romance

by Dee Palmer

  “You don’t love him?” She waves off my crazy outburst. “Of course you love him. That’s crazy.”

  “You’ve still got to marry him, Buttercup. He’s Kurt. He’ll be so embarrassed.” Bonny’s voice is thick with panic, her mind clearly racing ahead and focusing on what really matters: appearance.

  “Because that’s what’s important. What happened to what Lisa-Marie just said? What you all agreed with by the way, the bit about ‘I wouldn’t marry someone I didn’t love, It won’t last.’ ”

  “But I didn’t mean you. You and Kurt are like Masonville royalty. You have to get married,” Lisa-Marie clarifies and everyone is nodding, like crazy people this time.

  “Yes, I do have to marry him, but that doesn’t make me happy.”

  “It’s not all about you, though, is it?” Bonny snarls. If she had fangs, they’d be bared.

  “Personally, I don’t think you should. It’s not like Kurt couldn’t find someone else,” Alicia remarks. The icy lilt in her voice makes me shiver.

  “I never said he couldn’t. I wish he would.” Exasperation, frustration and my sanity are at a breaking point. Why did I ever open my mouth? And why can’t I seem to shut the darn thing up? “But Kurt doesn’t want anyone else, he wants me. And tell me just one time that Kurt didn’t get exactly what he wants.” I grip the champagne glass with both hands to stop them shaking. There is a second of stunned silence. I know not one of them understands. I can see it in their judgmental eyes. They think I’m crazy.

  Bonny is the first to condemn. “I still think you’re lucky.” She crosses her arms and the army of clones falls in line beside her. Taylor shifts awkwardly; however, she doesn’t move away from them. I’m definitely on my own. I can see where this is going, and as much as I have no control over my future, I do still have control over this night.

  Bonny’s jaw twitches when I step up to her. I tap the side of my head. “That’s because you’re not very bright.” She gasps when I turn and walk away.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Anywhere that’s not here.,”

  “But what about the party?”

  “Let’s face it, Bonny, just like this farce of a wedding, this party isn’t really for me, is it?” I pick up my bag that I dropped by the front door and walk out. The silence holds for almost a minute before an explosion of outrage fills the air.

  I’m never going to hear the end of this.

  Relief floods me as I walk over to Grampa’s truck. The biggest smile spreads across my face. For the first time today I feel truly happy, and I know exactly who I want to share it with.

  I’VE MAYBE VENTURED INTO TOWN a half a dozen times for supplies and to call back home. I’ve never really felt the need to hit the bar. Tonight is Buttercup’s bachelorette party. I don’t know what she’s doing. All I know is she’s not coming over, and I need a drink. There are two bars in town and I park up outside the first one. Music pumps through a sound system that is as classic as the country songs the barmaid is singing along to. There’s a pool table at one end with a loud group of men, and all the booths are occupied with older couples. It’s lively enough to be distracting, and as I slide onto a bar stool, the lady behind the bar stops singing and flashes a welcoming smile.

  “What’s your poison, darlin’?”

  “A beer please.” She nods and points to the selection of tap beers and bottles in the row of fridges behind her. I shrug and my expression probably reveals that I couldn’t be less interested. She gets the idea, tipping one finger my way and selecting for me. She has glossy dark chestnut hair, cropped into a sharp bob. Her eyes are grey-green, and she’s sporting some seriously impressive ink across her bare shoulders. I wonder if she’s even from around here, and as curious as I am, I’m not here to chat shit or make friends. I’m here to get drunk. I figure it will take a couple of hours to walk back, or I’ll sleep in my truck. Daisy will be all right until the morning. The bar maid interrupts my inner dialogue, handing me an ice cold bottle of Shiner.

  “You’re not from round here, are you?”

  “What gave it away?” I take a long pull, draining half the bottle. That went down way too easy.

  “Well, not the haircut darlin’, because that is classic Stan.” She laughs, and I run my hand over the unfamiliar bristles of my severe haircut. I have to chuckle and arch a knowing brow. “No, it’s just I haven’t seen you around, and it’s a small town. I’m Jamie.” She holds out her hand and I shake it.

  “I’m just passing through.”

  “Passing by way of the Clement farm?” Her pursed lips may soften the invasion of my privacy, but they don’t stop my jaw from clamping tight and leveling a steely gaze her way. “Sorry. Joshua mentioned he had some help, and like I say, it’s a small town.” She shrugs and waits expectantly for me to respond. I don’t want to. I want to take my beer and sit somewhere else. Unfortunately, I know if I do, this small town will get some fresh gossip to feed on, and that’s the last thing I need.

  “I helped with some maintenance, but I’m passing through.” I offer minimal information and drink some more beer, hoping the hostile edge to my response will prevent further interrogation.

  No such luck. “You’ve met Buttercup?”

  “Thanks for the beer.” I push the half empty bottle back across the bar and start to stand.

  “Sit your ass down. I’m just saying, if you’ve been at Joshua’s place, you must’ve met Buttercup.”

  “I’ve met her and Shelli-Rae and Stan and Barbara who runs the store. Like I say, I’m just passing through.” I’m still hovering my ass above the stool, deciding whether me disappearing this abruptly would be more fodder. I can feel eyes on my back, sides, and all around. Jamie glances around the room. Her eyes hold mine for a second, and she fails to suppress the knowing smirk pulling at the multiple piercings around her mouth.

  “If you turn tail now, people might think you’re hiding something,” she sing songs.

  “I don’t give a shit what ‘people’ think.”

  “Good. Me neither. Where you staying?” She pops the cap on a fresh bottle and hands it to me. I haven’t finished the first one, still, it’s not like I have anywhere else to be.

  “Wow, you don’t give up, do you?” I sit back down, defeated. I may not care, but I know someone who does, and I don’t want any rumors hounding Buttercup.

  “I’d apologize, but I’m not really sorry.”

  “I can see that. Look, I don’t mean to be rude… Actually, since you’re not sorry about being nosy, I’m not going to be sorry about being rude. I came here for a couple of quiet beers, period. Understand?”

  “Then you’re are shit out of luck tonight.”

  “You’re not going to serve me a couple of beers?”

  “Yes, no. I mean yes, you can have as much beer as you like, only it’s not going to be a quiet drink. There’s a bachelorette party here tonight—Buttercup’s bachelorette—and those girls are anything but quiet.”

  “That’s here?” What are the chances? I guess quite high. If I’d given it any serious thought, that is. What with there being only two drinking holes in town. I’ll finish this beer and head back home. I’m not sure how I’d handle running into Buttercup in full celebration mode, knowing what I know and what I feel. “You clearly know Buttercup. How come you didn’t get an invite?”

  “I’m from the wrong side of the trailer park.” Her disinterest couldn’t be more obvious if it was delivered with an exaggerated yawn. Still, I’m surprised Buttercup would discriminate.

  “Really?”

  “Oh, not that that would worry Buttercup, but her friends are different. They have sticks stuck so far up their asses, it’s a wonder they can bend enough to keep on sucking cocks like they do.” She snorts at her own joke. “It’s their loss. It’ll be a lame ass party anyway. Don’t now how any woman can have fun knowing she’s marrying into that line of cheating bastards.” She points in the direction of the ruckus exploding around the pool
table. A tall blond man has another in a chokehold, bent over the table while pouring a full bottle of beer over his head. There’s maybe ten in total and all of them are laughing, even the guy now drenched in beer.

  “That’s Kurt?”

  “Yep, Kurt Mason and his pack of degenerates. And they call me trash. The girls just love him, and, honestly, I wouldn’t hit on that with my truck.”

  “Not a fan.” It’s a subtle statement, although Jamie takes it as a question. I’m not sure I want to hear the answer. It’s eavesdropping on the enemy, and I know it’s only going to add fuel to my tortured fire, still I can’t stop myself.

  “He’s a narcissist and a bully from a long line of the same. He made my brother’s life hell all throughout high school. No I’m not a fan, but I’m pretty much alone in that. The whole fucking town loves him and that family.”

  “You’re not alone.”

  She looks puzzled. I may not know the guy; I’m simply predisposed to think he’s a douche, if he has to resort to blackmail to get someone to marry him. I’m not going to say that, though.

  “I’m guessing your brother isn’t a fan either.”

  “He’s dead,” she states, and her gaze flicks over to the noisy end of the bar.

  “I’m sorry. Nothing to do with Kurt though? I can’t imagine Buttercup…I mean I can’t imagine anyone thinking he’s all that if he killed someone?”

  “Not directly, but yeah, I still blame him. Sean joined the army to get away. He was killed overseas on his second tour.”

  “Fuck! I’m really sorry. I’m a Navy SEAL, retired. I nearly lost two of my brothers last year.”

  “Oooooh a Navy SEAL, listen to this guy.” Kurt stumbles onto the stool beside me, his drunken entourage gather around him.

  “Kurt, grow up and leave my customers alone,” Jamie clips.

  “Who asked you, dyke? I’m just fucking with him, ain’t that right, buddy?” He slaps my shoulder and my fist tightens around my beer bottle. “I respect anyone that serves our country. Let me buy you a drink.”

  “I have a beer, and I’m not your buddy. I don’t know who dragged you up, but even in the orphanage where I was raised, we were taught to speak to others with respect. Apologize to the lady.” My back straightens, and I meet his stare.

  “What lady?” He snorts.

  “Sir, sir, it’s fine.” Jamie quickly uncaps two beers and places them in front of me and Kurt. Her eyes are wide, and she urges me to back down with a subtle shake of her head.

  I can’t.

  “I don’t need any trouble tonight, and believe me, you do not want to do this. You’re passing through, remember?” Speaking out of the side of her mouth with a barely audible whisper, she adds to her warning. “If you mess with Kurt, you’ll land your ass in jail.”

  Ignoring her advice, I stand abruptly enough to send my stool flying. “I said, apologize.” I am nose to nose with Kurt. My hand is around his neck, squeezing enough to make him know I’m not fucking around. He tips his head to his friends to back off when they surge forward and surround me in his defense.

  “Fuck, I’m sorry if I offended you, Jamie. Is that better?” he snarks, slurring his insincere apology. He steps back when I release him. “What bug died up your ass, faggot?”

  He couldn’t just shut the fuck up. As much as I want to, I won’t pound on a drunk. Now if he were sober, it would be a different story, asshole.

  “You know what they say about homophobes don’t you?” I say and wink at Jamie. She snickers. It takes a moment for the inference to sink in.

  “No, what are you saying?” Kurt puffs up, outrage coloring his cheeks. He lurches to strike me with a poorly timed punch. Ducking to the side, he swings round and loses his footing. One of his friends manages to catch him before he hits the deck. With the help of the others, they drag a reluctant Kurt toward the door.

  “Kurt, come on, it’s not worth it. Your momma will kill you if you have a black eye on your wedding day.”

  He’ll have more than a black eye if I start.

  “Fine, count yourself lucky, buddy.” Kurt yells.

  Sitting back on my stool, I finish the rest of my beer. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and drop a twenty-dollar bill and leave the second and third beers untouched. I walk toward the restroom. Passing Kurt, I press my finger hard in the center of his chest. “Trust me buddy, you’re the lucky one.”

  I make it to the first booth where an elderly woman is struggling to get out of the low soft seat. Her partner is not having much luck himself.

  “Would you like some help there, ma’am?”

  “Oh, thank you.” I offer her my arm for some leverage and help her out of her seat. She straightens herself, and I help her into her coat. “Don’t ever get old.” She chuckles and hooks her handbag over her arm, waiting for her husband, I assume. I’m about to offer to help him, too, but she gives me a subtle shake of her head and whispers, “He’s too proud. Sixty years married and he’d rather struggle like a turtle on its back rather than let me help him when we’re in public.”

  “Sixty years, that’s a long time.” I let out a whistle, impressed.

  “And it passes in a second when you’re with the right one. Trust me, young man, every second counts. Regret steals time, and life is too short. Eat the pie, dance in the rain, and fall in love.”

  “Offering up words of wisdom again, Marta?” Her husband tuts and playfully shakes his head.

  “Had to do something waiting on you now, didn’t I?” she teases.

  “Not everyone wants to hear your nonsense.”

  “Of course they do.” She bristles with faux irritation.

  Rolling his eyes, the thick lenses of his tortoise shell glasses fail to hide the affectionate way he looks at his wife.

  “How did you know?” I ask. I can’t help myself.

  “You know the answer to that one already, son.” She pats my arm, taps the side of her nose, and searches my face waiting for me to respond.

  “You just know.”

  “Exactly.” She beams, presses her palms together with an expression of satisfaction lighting up her face.

  “Good evening to you, and thank you for your assistance.” She slips her hand into the crook of her husband’s arm. He guides her to the door just as it opens. I can’t keep my eyes off them. They look like the embodiment of two halves of the same. I don’t really see who enters. I hear Kurt speaking, and my ears prick when I hear Buttercup’s name mentioned. I slide into the newly vacated booth.

  “Taylor, what are you doing here, alone? Where’s Buttercup?” Kurt has his back to me, but on the far wall there’s a mirror and even I can see he’s standing very close to the young woman who’s just come in. His arm is draped on her shoulder as he walks her toward the bar. A sister, maybe?

  “The party’s off. Sorry, Jamie. Bonny told me to tell you you can open up the back room. There’s not going to be a bachelorette party.” She slides onto a barstool. Kurt removes his arm, his fingers trailing languidly across her bare neck. Maybe not.

  “I’m still getting paid thought, right? I bought all that fancy food Bonny ordered specially. No one here will touch that French shit.” Jamie leans both hands on the bar.

  “She didn’t say. You’ll have to take it up with her.”

  “So where’s Buttercup?” Kurt asks again.

  Taylor narrows her eyes and snaps. “I don’t know Kurt. Why don’t you go and look for her, if you’re so worried.”

  “I’m not, I’m just… Is she…” It’s too noisy to hear what he’s saying, even if he wasn’t whispering, which he clearly is. Lucky I can lip read.

  “She looked upset. I don’t know where she went.” Taylor is talking full volume.

  “No, I meant, is she definitely not coming here tonight?” Kurt takes a slow look from Taylor’s pumps all the way up her body to her face. My skin crawls and bile rises in my stomach.

  “I think this is the last place she’ll show up,” Taylor says, an
d Kurt grabs her waist, pulling her in between his legs. She laughs, draping her long arms around his neck. The familiarity makes my stomach roll.

  “Jamie, get Taylor anything she’d like to drink.”

  “Hemlock mojito?” Jamie mouths, and I laugh. I have no idea who Taylor is, but if she was at the party, she’s one of Buttercup’s friends. I no longer wonder why she chooses to spend every evening with me. With friends like these, even her fiancé is starting to look like a prince.

  Jamie approaches, offering me another beer as she slides into the seat opposite.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  “You’re supposed to ask that before you actually sit down.”

  “Ah, damn it, I always get that bit wrong. That finishing school has a lot to answer for.” She clinks the top of her bottle against mine and proceeds to gulp down her drink. I smile at her joke and half expect her to belch for effect. She doesn’t.

  “You’re not a fan of Taylor either?” She looks confused for a second, so I clarify. “I can lip read. I saw the cocktail suggestion.”

  “Ah, yeah, and she’s a real piece of work.” She sniffs derisively.

  “How so?”

  “You saw her, all over Kurt like a rash, and she’s a fucking bridesmaid. Buttercup’s ‘best friend’!”

  My jaw twitches with tension. My heart is thumping in my chest, and my knuckles blanch as I grip the beer bottle. I can’t finish my sentence as rage chokes the words in my throat. “You think they—”

  Sarcasm drenches each word of her interruption. “No, I’m sure he’s still a virgin like Buttercup. After all, they made a promise to each other when they were in high school. Who doesn’t keep their promises at that age?”

  My mouth is lax with shock. “What promise? What are you talking about?”

  “No sex before marriage. It’s crazy I know, but there it is.” She shrugs.

  “Wow.”

  “I know, such a waste.” Jamie’s gaze drifts up to the ceiling, and she sighs wistfully.