Falling for the Groomsman

by Diane Alberts

  Christine wanted to turn around and comfort her friend, but she couldn’t. Not this time. She entered the elevator on autopilot, her emotions shut down and locked up tight somewhere inside her. She left the elevator and hobbled down the hallway, her eyes on her door. As soon as she got there…she’d be okay. She had to be.

  As she passed Tyler’s room, she heard something loud crash against the door, followed by a string of curses. She flinched, knowing he hated her right now. She wanted to knock and continue their discussion, but she couldn’t. Not now.

  Instead, she opened her door and closed it quietly, not wanting him to know she’d come up, too. Then, and only then, she let herself slide down the door and crouched on the floor in front of it, her back pressed against the steel and her injured leg straight out. Her facade crumbled, and so did she. God, so did she.

  Tears blurred her vision, and she covered her face with her hands, sobbing hard and deeply. For the first time since Mexico…she cried.

  And once she started, she couldn’t figure out how to stop.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Tyler took a swig of vodka, set down the bottle, and fell back on the bed, his eyes scrunched shut. He massaged his temples, unable to believe the turn his evening had taken. A list. This whole damn thing had been about a stupid sex list, and he hadn’t seen it coming at all. He’d thought she was as into him as he was with her, and she’d been playing him the whole fucking time. He’d been willing to move for her, and she’d been laughing at him this whole time.

  Knowing that when the wedding was over, she’d be gone from his life for good.

  Knowing they never stood a chance in hell. But she hadn’t cared, because she hadn’t wanted them to stand a chance, had she? The irony of the situation hit him hard. She didn’t give a damn about him, and he couldn’t stop giving a damn about her.

  He growled and rolled over, rising to his feet. The vase full of fake flowers he’d thrown against the door lay in shards now. Something more he’d have to pay for, but it had been worth it. Watching that vase shatter had been more satisfying than he’d thought it would be.

  He picked up the bottle of vodka. Tipping his head back, he lifted the bottle to his lips but nothing else came out. He cursed and shook the bottle as if that would magically make more appear. When it didn’t, he chucked it into the recycle bin.

  He needed another drink. His head wasn’t spinning enough yet.

  And the pain wasn’t gone, either.

  He crossed the room, bent down, and picked up the shards, tossing it into the recycle bin. Then he laid the fake flowers on the desk. Much like the broken vase on the floor, it was time to pick up the pieces and move on. He had a huge promotion waiting for him in Portland. A nice house. Enough money to help out those who needed it, and plenty of reasons to smile.

  He’d give himself tonight to mope about her not wanting to be with him, and then he would move on. He would watch his sister marry the man she loved. He would report for duty with his job in Portland. But first? He needed to get fucking drunk.

  So drunk that he didn’t give a damn about Christine.

  As he exited his room, he hesitated in the hallway. If he turned left, he’d hit the elevator. If he went right…well, he’d be in front of her room. Was she in there? Had she left the waltz when he had? She’d said she was going to her room.

  Maybe if he had more time with her, he could make her want him as much as he wanted her. It might have been all about her list for her, but she’d had fun with him, too. There was no denying that. If he could get back into her bed, he could win her over through seduction.

  But what if that was all she wanted to give him? It wouldn’t be enough. He wanted more. He wanted her heart. When it came to Christine, it was all or nothing.

  She had to belong to him.

  He headed for the elevator. The whole ride down, he fought the urge to go right back up to her room. But he wouldn’t give in to the urge to chase after her. Not this time. He’d have enough drinks to be plastered into oblivion and go back to his room, crash hard, and wake up a new man.

  A man who learned a hard lesson: love fucking hurt.

  He sank down onto the barstool, not even bothering to scan the room for any familiar faces. If he had any luck left, there wouldn’t be anyone he knew. If he had any luck at all, he would be able to drink in peace.

  The bartender came over and smiled at him, her eyes inviting. “What can I get you?”

  She picked the wrong guy to flirt with tonight. She didn’t have red hair or blue eyes or a list of ways to fuck with his head. “I’ll have some Maker’s Mark, please. Two glasses.”

  “You waiting for someone else?”

  “Nope,” he said. “They’re both for me.”

  “Oh,” she said, her tone even. “All right. I’ll be right back.”

  She must’ve read the anger in his voice well enough to know he wasn’t in a playful mood. Good. For once, he didn’t want to be that guy, as Christine called it.

  When the bartender set the drinks in front of him, he downed the first one and picked up the second. He should probably wait a few minutes to see how the bourbon mixed with the vodka he’d already drunk. His mouth quirked, and he downed the second glass defiantly.

  He lifted the empty glasses and wiggled them in the air. “I’ll have two more, please.”

  “You’re upset about something.” The bartender watched him with critical eyes. “It’s a girl, isn’t it?”

  He laughed, the alcohol already numbing a fraction of the pain. About damn time. “You got it, ma’am.”

  “Want to talk about it?” she asked, making her way over to collect his empty glasses.

  “Not a chance in hell.”

  “Fair enough.” She picked them up and inclined her head toward the doorway. “But there’s a woman glowering at you right now, and it looks like she’ll be heading this way soon. Be warned.”

  “There is?” His hands curled into fists. “Shit.”

  If it was Christine, he would walk right up to her, tell her she’d lost a man who could love her the way she deserved, and kiss her until she begged him to stay. Until she told him she wanted to be with him. Then…he’d stay by her side for the rest of his life.

  Yeah. That’s what he’d do.

  That would teach her a lesson.

  He turned around, trying to be nonchalant but probably failing, and scanned the bar. In the doorway, a woman did glare at him—but it wasn’t his Christine.

  No, it was worse. It was his sister. He lifted his hand and waved.

  Kady stomped over to him, her eyes promising a hell he didn’t want to visit right now. “What are you doing here, drinking like you’re hoping to not remember anything at all, when you’re the one who ruined my waltz?”

  He flinched. “Yeah. I’m sorry about that,” he slurred. “Wasn’t my intention.”

  The words came out in one long drawl. He hadn’t had that much, had he?

  “Ugh. You’re drunk,” she said, her eyes narrowing on him. “I’ve never seen you get drunk.”

  It was true. She hadn’t. Well, there was a first time for everything. “Some things are enough to drive a man to drink. Christine is one of those things.”

  She sat down beside him. “What happened tonight?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “Here you are.” The bartender set his drink in front of him and smiled at Kady. “Would you like a drink?”

  “Yes, I’ll have a dirty martini,” Kady said, giving her a small smile. As the bartender walked away, Kady said, “And you will be telling me what the hell is going on between you and Christine.”

  His grip tightened on his glass. “Absolutely nothing. That’s the problem.”

  “Stop speaking drunk, and tell me everything in English.”

  “I thought we had something between us. Something real, but we didn’t,” Tyler said, his gaze on the amber liquid. “She wanted payback for something I’d done to her in the past, and s
he got it.”

  She made a weird noise and shook her head. The bartender brought over her drink, and she picked it up, taking a dainty sip. “What could you have possibly done to make her want payback?”

  He hesitated. “You don’t want to know.”

  “Yes. I do.” She glowered at him. “You’re going to tell me what you did, but first? Know this. Christine doesn’t have a spiteful bone in her body. You’re wrong about her.”

  He glowered at his own drink. “No, you’re wrong. She wanted to punish me for taking her virginity and leaving, and she did. I fell for the whole act, hook, line, and sinker.”

  Kady was taking a sip when he’d started his sentence and by the end of it, she was gagging. Literally. She choked on the liquid and set the glass down with a clunk. She flailed her arms, gasping for air as if she were drowning in the ocean.

  “Oh, stop being a drama queen.” Tyler rolled his eyes and reached over, slapping her on the back hard. It didn’t help with choking, but she wasn’t choking anyway. “You’re not going to die. Just breathe and you’ll live to get married.”

  She held a hand over her throat and shot him a look that should have set him afire. “Y-You’re an a-asshole.”

  “She lives,” he slurred, flinching when she smacked him hard on the arm. “Ow, that hurt.”

  “Good. You deserved it.”

  He cocked a brow. “For pointing out the obvious?”

  “No, for throwing that out there when you knew I’d react that way.” She picked up her drink and took a long sip. “And, uh, seeing as I didn’t know she, uh, lost her V-card with you in the first place, I kind of needed a second to absorb that.”

  “Well, absorb and we’ll discuss.”

  Kady took another drink. “But when did this happen? I thought she lost her virginity with some guy named Rick in…” Her eyes lit up and he could see all the pieces forming in her mind. “Oh my God. Mexico. It was you.”

  He averted his eyes and tugged on his collar. Why hadn’t he gotten out of his suit before coming down to the bar? “Hi. I’m Rick. Nice to meet you.”

  “Oh my God, that explains so much. I mean…I knew she had a crush on you, but I couldn’t understand why she kept asking about you all these years. Why, after one short trip in Mexico years ago, she had to know what you were up to all of the time. What you were doing. If you were seeing anyone.” She shook her head and let out a soft laugh. “I’m such an idiot. That’s why. Because of Mexico.”

  “She didn’t care about me. She just needed intel so she could plot her payback, is all. For her list.” He shook his alcohol-hazed head. “Why else would she care about that stuff? She doesn’t even like me.”

  Kady shook her head, her eyes still on the bar. She seemed to be trying to understand everything. “How did this happen?”

  He snickered. “Do you really need me to explain the logistics of how to—”

  “God, no. Ew.” She smacked him on the arm again. “You know what I mean, so answer the question.”

  He sighed and rubbed his abused arm. “She was upset about her parents and left the group. I followed her and found her crying in the hallway of the hotel. I tried to comfort her. Next thing I knew…” He waved his hand. “Well, you know.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck, images bombarding him from that night. The sight of her leaning against the wall, tears creeping down her cheeks as she tried to straighten her clothes. The way she’d held her hand out to him as he bolted from her side. She’d looked…devastated, confused, and scared.

  Well, no shit, Sherlock.

  No wonder she wanted a little payback. He deserved it. She had every right to want to punish him in some way for what he’d done to her, and he’d flipped out on her like a lunatic.

  “Okay, so now I know what happened back then. What happened tonight?”

  “We spent the last few days together…reconnecting.” He cleared his throat. “And I thought we had something going on. But she was only playing with me. Nothing more. She even made a list of ways to do it. It was all a game to her.”

  Kady smacked him on the back of the head hard enough to make stars shine in his vision. “Do you hear yourself?”

  “Ow. Stop hitting me.” He rubbed the sore spot. “Why did I get hit that time?”

  “Tell me this.” She leaned in, her eyes spitting fire. “Would a girl who only wanted payback want updates on where you were and what you were doing?”

  Shit if he knew. Women didn’t make much sense to him. “I…I don’t know. Like I said, maybe she was making her list.”

  “She wouldn’t do that. She’s not cold enough, or duplicitous enough, either. I guarantee if you told her how you felt, she’d give you another shot if you wanted it.”

  “But she’s moving to Maine.” He dropped the remainder of the napkin on the bar. “I can’t believe she’s leaving, right after I took the job in Denver to be close to her. What kind of twisted sense of humor does God have, anyway? I’m going to—”

  “Wait a second.” She held a hand up. “You took a job in Denver to be with her? Seriously?”

  He averted his eyes, knowing she was seeing the similarities to their situations and feeling like a dipshit for thinking he and Christine could have the same happy ending as Colt and Kady. “Yes. I figured since it worked for you two…maybe it would work for us. Stupid, right?”

  “No.” She reached out and squeezed his hand. “Not stupid. It’s romantic and sweet. Do you still want to be with her, even after all of this?”

  “I don’t know. I just know…I don’t want to lose her. I fucking love her. I do. I love her.” He wanted to be her person. Wanted her to need him. He stood up, clumsily righting himself, and tossed some cash on the bar for the bill and tip. “I’m going to go tell her right now.”

  Kady stood. “No, you’re not.”

  “Yesh, I am,” he slurred. The floor swayed under his feet, and he grabbed the bar edge to keep himself upright. When did hotels start moving like fucking boats on an ocean? Once the hotel stopped moving, he nodded decisively. “She’s not getting away from me that easily.”

  Kady shook her head. “You going up there drunk as a skunk won’t do a damn thing to help your cause.”

  “But—”

  “No.” She grabbed his arm. “You’ll ruin it all. If you go up there, slurring and bumbling up the declaration of love you’re bound to make, she’ll push you away. I mean, hello. Her parents were killed by a drunk driver. Something tells me a drunk declaration of love isn’t the way to go.”

  He nodded and swallowed past this dry throat. “Shit. You’re right.”

  She relaxed. “I never thought I’d hear you admit that. I might have to get this moment recorded in writing. Are you too drunk to sign your name?”

  “What’s it matter? I’m a doctor. My signature is always horrible,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fuck me. I don’t plan on drinking like this ever again. Write that down, too, will ya?”

  “Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Kady said, grinning. “Now let’s get you to bed…after I get that signature.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The next morning, Christine flinched at her reflection. She looked more monster than glowing bridesmaid, and who could blame her? She’d been up all night, going over every single thing that had happened since the second she’d crashed into Tyler in the hallway. Since he kissed her and made her forget, for a short time, that she was supposed to be having careless fun and leaving her past behind her.

  Now she was supposed to leave him behind, too.

  She wasn’t sure if she could do it. Continue on like this, letting Tyler think she didn’t care about him. Maybe she should tell him the truth. Make him listen, since he’d refused to last night. She would tell him he’d meant more to her than he would ever comprehend. Or maybe she should just leave him alone.

  Christine left her room, deciding to hobble around without the crutches today. Her footsteps slowed down at Tyler’s door. She was supp
osed to go straight down to the hotel restaurant for breakfast, but she stopped at his door, her heart racing light speed ahead.

  Lifting her hand, she knocked on the door before she could talk herself out of it. After a minute of waiting and no sounds from within, she realized she was wasting her time. He wasn’t there. She straightened her shoulders and headed for the elevator. As she waited, she tugged her skirt down and slapped her cheeks. She looked like a ghost and knew it. Any little kids who crossed her path would be certain to run away screaming for their mommy and daddy. She kind of wished she could do that right now herself.

  Run to her parents.

  Her mother had always been the best at giving advice. Dad hadn’t been quite as good, but he had always been great at listening and letting her talk. Then, after she spilled her guts out, they would go get ice cream and she would dangle her feet off the back of the truck—just her, her mom, and her dad against the world.

  She’d never felt as alone as she did now.

  And she missed her brother.

  The doors opened and she scanned the dining room. Tyler wasn’t there, but her girls were. She plastered a smile on her face and made her way over to them. As she seated herself between Regan and Julie, she picked up the cloth napkin and placed it in her lap.

  “Hey guys,” she said, trying to sound cheery and alert.

  Regan looked at her, her gaze scanning her in the way that only Regan’s could. She had a way of looking at someone and knowing that something was up—and she usually figured out what that something was far too easily, too. But today she didn’t look quite as together as she normally did. She had her hair pulled in a loose ponytail and wasn’t wearing any makeup. Christine tried to think of the last time she’d seen Regan out and about without makeup on.

  She couldn’t even remember.

  “You okay?” she asked Regan.

  Regan waved a hand. “I’m fine. Let’s talk about you. What happened with you and Tyler last night? Spill your guts.”

  She didn’t even pretend to not know what Regan was talking about. “He thinks I was playing him,” Christine said, her voice low. “And now he hates me.”