by J. Sterling
“You’re getting married? Are you kidding?” I prayed quickly to God that this was all a joke. I even looked at the calendar on my wall to make sure it wasn’t April first. This couldn’t be real.
“I wanted to be the one to tell you. It would kill me if you heard from someone else,” he said, as if that somehow made this all okay.
“How noble of you. So, who is it? Who the hell are you marrying, Nick?” I tried to sound like I didn’t care, but the shakiness in my voice gave me away. Not to mention the anger.
He stayed quiet for a heartbeat. Then two. I wasn’t sure he’d ever speak when he sucked in a breath and said, “Carla,” his words like knives.
Thud.
“Carla?”
Tears fell without warning, blurring my vision until my surroundings turned into a watercolor painting where things mixed together with no distinction, everything all blurred. His words were like knives. I wanted to scream into the phone, What are you doing? but I refrained, although that sentence repeated itself over and over again inside my mind.
He was planning on marrying Carla.
Nick planned to marry someone who wasn’t me.
I never realized until that moment how much hope I’d still held out for us. Apparently I’d buried the sliver of hope somewhere deep inside me, but here it was, making itself known, feeling less like a sliver and more like a redwood tree.
He cleared his throat, and I realized I’d been sitting silently on the line with no clue how long it had been.
“Is it your dad? Is he making you do this?” I had to know, because none of this made any kind of sense.
“No. It has nothing to do with him. I got to know her and we have a lot in common,” he said, his tone unconvincing.
“You’re joking, right? You have nothing in common with that horrible person.”
“Jess,” he growled, telling me I’d crossed a line. “It just seems right, you know?”
I shook my head. No, I didn’t know. I didn’t know anything anymore. “Bullshit. That’s total bullshit. You can lie to everyone else, but you don’t get to lie to me. This has your dad written all over it. How is he possibly getting you to do this, of all things, for him?”
His silence told me everything I needed to know, so I continued. “Remember when we talked that one day about the things he asked of you?” I waited for his confirmation, but he still stayed quiet. “I told you that one day he’d ask you to do something that would be a turning point. That if you did it, there would be no going back. This is it, Nick. This is so it.”
He sighed, sounding utterly exasperated. “You don’t understand, Jess.”
“Then enlighten me!” I yelled, my emotions overwhelming me.
“I can’t,” he said, sounding so broken, and I got pissed.
“Of course you can’t. Have a nice life, Nick. You’re a fucking idiot.”
I ended the call, expecting to cry hysterically, but the tears had stopped falling. I was too angry, too disappointed, too pissed off to cry.
There would be no coming back from this for us. There would never be an us again if he went through with this.
It was supposed to be me—it was always supposed to be me. Nick and I were supposed to be together.
I never planned to stay away forever. Once I graduated, I intended to move back home to Southern California. I’d stupidly assumed Nick and I would pick up where we left off, like I’d told Rachel that night. No matter what he said or how much time had passed, I always figured we’d find our way back to each other. I never once thought that I’d lose Nick forever.
How could he give up on us like this? It was like I truly didn’t know him at all.
And maybe I really never did.
Breaking Hearts
Nick
I could have never imagined how badly it would hurt telling Jess about Carla. And it did. It hurt something awful. Hearing the pain in her voice when I spilled my news slayed me. My heart bled out in my chest in response to her tone.
Jess was pissed, but mostly she was devastated. I heard every ounce of pain that she tried to hide behind her anger. I honestly figured that I was doing the right thing by being the one who told her about the wedding, but fuck, maybe I should have let Rachel tell her? Maybe I shouldn’t have told her at all, kept her in the dark.
No. See? That’s even more fucked up.
Jess deserved to know what I had done, and she deserved to hear it from me. But now I felt like a complete asshole, even more than I already did. If there was a way to feel lower than the dirt on the bottom of someone’s shoe, I achieved it. I was currently living it.
I still loved Jess. Goddamn, I still loved her more than anything, but I couldn’t tell her that.
She called it right away too. Jess knew my dad was responsible for this entire fiasco, but I couldn’t admit that to her without giving her the rest of the details. If I gave that girl a morsel of information, she’d hammer at me until I gave it all up. And if she knew the whole story, she’d come unglued, take the first flight back here, and try to talk me out of it.
I knew at least that much, and I couldn’t let her do that. I’d protect Jess’s future the only way I knew how—by marrying Carla.
Jesus. Just putting the words Carla and marry in the same sentence made me want to throw up.
Honestly, I never thought I’d marry anyone other than Jess. Even through all the crap of my letting her go and move away from me, I had always planned to win her back. As soon as she had that damn diploma in her hands, I intended to make her mine again.
I couldn’t have cared less if she was dating some guy or what other obstacle stood in my way when it came to getting her back in my arms. I never planned on stopping until she gave in. I’d apologize, tell her how much of an idiot I was, and fight for however long it took to win back her trust and her heart. We belonged together, and we both knew it. Living my entire life without Jess wasn’t a thought I had ever entertained.
Until now.
Now I had to accept the fact that I’d be living my whole life without her, because there’d be no winning her back after this. Even Jess had a limit, and this engagement had pushed her too far over it. Eventually she would learn the truth, that I’d done all this for her. And maybe one day she’d actually forgive me for it, or at least understand. If there was a god, I hoped like hell he’d help her.
Hopping into my truck, I headed toward Santa Monica. My brothers and their bar still served as my only place of refuge, and I wasn’t sure that would ever change. Especially now.
When I walked inside, I was thankful to see only a handful of customers. It shouldn’t have surprised me, considering that it was the middle of the day and Sam’s didn’t usually start hopping until sundown.
“Little brother,” Frank called out, greeting me as soon as I stepped inside and removed my sunglasses.
As I made my way to the bar, I briefly considered heading into the private office. Instead, I sat down on an empty bar stool at the opposite end of the bar, as far from the other patrons as possible.
“You look like shit, sweetheart,” Ryan’s voice boomed as he rounded a corner and came into view.
“Appreciate it,” I mumbled, knowing I probably looked as shitty as I felt.
“Aw, baby brother. Why so glum?” he teased, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Just in a shit mood is all.”
“You’re always in a shit mood,” Ryan said, and I wished like hell it wasn’t the truth, but it was. He turned his back to me and started mixing a drink while I watched, eyeing the ingredients carefully.
“What’s that?” I asked, pretty familiar with all the drinks they served, but I hadn’t seen this one before.
“Something new I whipped up last night. Frank thinks it tastes like piss, but the ladies who tried it last night loved it.” He grinned.
“They were so drunk, they would have told you that anything tasted good enough to be on the menu,” Fran
k grumbled.
I laughed for the first time that day, watching as he walked down to the other end of the bar to check on his customers.
Ryan shoved the rose-colored concoction toward me, and I sniffed it before bringing it to my lips and taking a slow sip. Pulling back, I shoved the glass back toward my brother.
“Girls said they liked this?”
“Be helpful or get out,” Ryan said as he pointed toward the door, clearly butt-hurt.
He was good at creating new cocktails, but his ego was easily bruised at first when it came to the feedback. He was typically defensive before he set about correcting things, making it better than any of us could have ever thought.
“First of all, it has too much lime. And whatever the juice is? God, it’s hard to swallow, like an unbalanced sweet and bitter. Needs more rum or less juice, something so it goes down easier. What is the juice? It’s so light, I can’t place it.”
“Watermelon.” Ryan grimaced before taking a sip, and I grinned. “Hell. You’re right.” He dumped it down the sink and set about remaking it.
As he worked, I tilted my head back, concentrating on the flavors that lingered. “Was that a hint of cinnamon I tasted?”
“Yeah.”
“That was brilliant. It only hit after,” I said with a smile. My brother was seriously a cocktail genius.
“Yeah, that’s the plan. I think I’ll use it as a garnish, maybe toss a cinnamon stick on top at the end.” He grinned as he measured and mixed ingredients, and my brain reeled as I tried to come up with a name for it.
Frank joined us, and automatically hand-washed and dried the glass that Ryan had just tossed into the sink before looking at me. “So, are you going to tell us what’s got you so wound up?”
I stared between my brothers, who were both giving me the side eye while I decided how much to admit to them. As if Ryan knew the only way to get me to open up was to ply me with alcohol, he set two shots of tequila in front of me, then one each in front of himself and Frank.
“Why do I get two?” I asked, already knowing damn well the answer to that question.
“Because you clearly need it,” Frank said, then tipped his in a toast to me before knocking it back.
“And we know how much you run your mouth after you’ve had some liquid courage, brother,” Ryan said with a laugh. “So drink up.” He nudged mine closer to me and waited for me to shoot them.
The first went down with a wince, burning my throat before coating my insides with warmth that made me feel like a rookie. I took a few steadying breaths before downing the second without another thought.
When I slammed the empty on the bar and announced, “I’m getting married,” they both started choking. Simultaneously, as if their lungs were connected.
“Married?” Frank asked, his voice shooting an octave higher.
“To who?” Ryan leaned forward, his brows pinched together.
“Carla.” God, her name was as bitter on my tongue as Ryan’s watermelon drink.
I stared past my brothers, fixing my gaze on the liquor bottles that lined the wall. I was afraid to see the level of disappointment in their eyes.
“Carla? The chick whose dad owns the TV stations?” Ryan said, putting it all together quicker than I’d expected. I’d only barely told them I was dating her.
“The one you started dating just to get Dad off your back?” Frank added.
I nodded, tapping the empty shot glass against the top of the bar. Ryan returned with the bottle and filled all three of our empty glasses.
“You can’t do this,” Frank said as he tipped back another shot.
“Yeah, this is crazy. Why the hell would you marry this girl?” Ryan frowned and ran a hand through his hair, making it stick out in every direction.
I downed another shot before reaching for the bottle and doling out the shots myself, filling them to the brim until some of the liquid spilled over.
“I don’t have a choice,” I confessed, realizing that I needed someone in my life to know the truth. The whole truth.
“What does that even mean?” Frank bit out. “How do you not have a choice?”
“I thought you loved Jess?” Ryan said.
I bristled. “I do love Jess.”
Ryan scowled at me. “You have a funny way of showing it.”
Agitated, I threw my hands out wide. “Why the fuck do I keep coming here when all you two do is give me shit instead of help me?”
Ryan laughed. He fucking laughed. “You come here because you know what you’re telling us is completely crazy, and we’re the only ones who will call you out on it.”
“I don’t need to be called out on it.”
“Then what do you need, brother, a swift kick in the ass? Because this is insane. It’s fucking nuts,” Frank practically growled. “Look, I saw you with Jess. I’d never seen you so happy or proud to be with a girl before.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’d never seen me with a girl, period.”
“True, but I’ve seen plenty of pictures. You didn’t look half as happy in any of those as you did the night you brought Jess in here. Plus, you don’t see your face when you talk about that girl.”
“This isn’t about my feelings for Jess, okay?”
“Then what the hell is it about?” Ryan asked.
Before I could answer, Frank quickly added, “Because things aren’t adding up.”
I gripped the edge of the bar, feeling the effects of the tequila swimming in my head. “He threatened her. He threatened Jess.”
Ryan and Frank both froze and exchanged a glance.
“Who threatened Jess?” Frank balled his hand into a fist that made the tattoos on his forearm dance.
“Carla’s father, Mr. Crawford. He threatened her future in the entertainment industry. Said he’d make sure she never got a job or worked anywhere in this town if I didn’t do what he wanted.” My shoulders unknotted a fraction, relaxing as I confessed this to my brothers.
Ryan gave me a confused look. “And what he wanted was for you to marry his daughter?”
“Yeah.”
I knew it didn’t make any sense, wasn’t at all logical. I had no idea how I’d gotten in the middle of it, but I’d panicked, straight up nearly lost my shit when Mr. Crawford not only said he knew about Jess, but then threatened her future. I would have agreed to almost anything he asked if it meant he wouldn’t hurt my girl.
“But why that? Why the hell would Mr. Crawford want you to marry his daughter that badly? What’s in it for him?”
I shrugged. Their guess was as good as mine. “I can only assume it’s because that’s what Carla wants. She’s been after me since State. She’s always told me that we’d end up together one way or another.”
“And let me guess.” Ryan rolled his eyes. “Whatever Daddy’s little angel wants, Daddy’s little angel gets?”
“She is his only child,” Frank muttered, and held up his phone. “Just doing some quick recon. She’s an only child. Her mom was killed in a car accident when she was eight. Apparently Carla was in the car. She’s very popular on social media. Traveled all over the world, and lives the life of a socialite. It looks like she wants for nothing, and in an interview back a couple of years ago, her dad mentioned that she was his only weakness. ‘If Carla isn’t happy, I’m not happy. I will always do anything in my power to keep a smile on her face, no matter what it takes, no matter the cost.’”
“She’s a grade-A pain in the ass is what she is,” I said with a snarl. “She’s the most spoiled-rotten, vapid person I’ve ever known.”
“Then you can’t do this, Nick. My God, you can’t tie yourself to that,” Ryan said, shaking his head.
“I told you. I don’t have a choice.” I pulled at my hair, feeling no better.
“Does Dad know?” Frank asked.
“He knows. He’s the one who keeps pushing me to go through with it.”
Frank’s fist met the top of the bar, and I almost jumped out of my seat. I’d
rarely seen him this angry.
“None of this makes any sense, Nick. None of it.”
Ryan nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah. This is insane. This is like a damn movie you watch, not something that happens in real life.”
Looking away from both of their glares, I stared at the lights of the bar, letting my focus go in and out. “Look, I don’t have any of the answers. And I don’t know why Dad is so hell-bent on making this union happen either, except that he really wants that partnership. He always has.”
“So this is all about money?” Frank’s mouth twisted in disgust.
“Dad has enough money.” Ryan’s expression still looked more confused than anything else.
I groaned, wishing I knew exactly what the hell it really was about for our old man so I could fill them in. “Maybe it’s about power? Control? I don’t know, you guys. Greed is an ugly thing. And success changes people.”
Frank glanced at Ryan, his disgust only deepening. “It hasn’t changed us.”
“It’s changed me a little,” Ryan offered with a shrug before signaling to us that he’d be right back. The bar had all but cleared out by this point, except for the two stragglers who’d finished off their beer and were ready to pay their tab.
Frank and I waited in silence for Ryan to return before we started talking again. Blinding sunlight filtered through the open door for a second as the customers left.
“What do you mean, it’s changed you a little?” Frank asked the moment Ryan was within speaking distance.
“I just meant that I like the success we’ve had with the bar. And I want more of it. Not at any cost, and I don’t want to hurt anyone, but it’s definitely made me more motivated.”
Frank nodded in quiet agreement. “I totally get that. I want more too. I’m really proud of what we’ve built.”
I looked between them, my heart aching, wishing so badly that I was a part of their team, at the bar every day. But I refused to let my ego take anything away from them. They had built the most popular bar in Santa Monica from nothing, and were constantly featured in online reviews.
