Even though I wasn't at her quickie hospital wedding, I didn't much mind it. I've never been the wedding-loving kind of girl. The mystical daze of white dresses, bouquets, seating arrangements, and fish or steak dinners, has never afflicted me. I always thought of myself as an eloping kind of person. And I never thought I would be anyone's maid of honor. In Hannah's defense, she didn't really have a choice. After all, she decided to marry the perfect candidate for that position, her bestie since middle school, Logan, aka, my older brother. So naturally, when it came time to bestow this horrific duty disguised as an honor, I was first in line. That's the only reason I'm in this godforsaken dress in the first place…it's my damn brother's fault.
"Oh, if you could see that look on your face," Hannah guffaws, using her one free hand to wipe a stray tear from her eye. I shoot her a sturdy glare that emphasizes my lack of amusement.
"They have mirrors, you know," I correct her sharply.
"Damn, girl! You're rocking that dress," she teases, furrowing her brow as she bites her bottom lip.
I walk over toward her and plop my ass next to her, causing the sofa to be suffocated by all my layers. "And you did this to me on purpose. Admit it."
At that moment, Jack decides to stop gnawing on his mother's finger and looks up at me. His infectious giggle fills the room. He is laughing at the sight of me—I’m sure of it—causing a line of slobber to flop onto Hannah's lap. She ignores it. That must be a mother thing because if drool landed on me, I most certainly would not ignore it.
"See? Even he knows this dress is terrible."
Hannah laughs. "Oh, it's atrocious. I just wanted a good laugh."
I swat her arm in frustration. "You're mean! I wouldn't be surprised if you trained my nephew to laugh at me while I was in the dressing room."
Her gaze dips down to her son before it returns to me, an are-you-serious expression etched on her features. "I think you give both him and me too much credit. He's only eight-months-old. If I could train him, he would wake me up at five in the morning instead of three," she releases a long sigh, "if only."
I watch as Hannah's entire demeanor succumbs to the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion. Any remnant of joy from seeing me in this dress vanishes. "Uh-oh, trouble in Momville?"
With her other hand still fastened tightly around her son's stomach, Hannah drags her free hand through her blonde locks, flattening the loose strands into place. "No, no trouble. I'm just so frickin' exhausted. I mean, everyone always tells you that babies never sleep so you won't sleep either. I thought they were just exaggerating, but they weren't."
I click my tongue. "C'mon, it can't be that bad."
Hannah waves her hand in the air, dismissing my comment. Her eyes widen as she leans in closer to me. "You have no idea. I swear there is a hidden switch under my pillow because as soon as I place my head on it at night, that's when Jack decides to scream his little head off. I love him to death, but he's a little monster." I can almost see the lightbulb go off as she comes to a realization. "He's a frickin' Gremlin!"
I gasp, stretching out my arms to cover my nephew's ears with my hands. "He can hear you, ya know? How can you compare him to a Gremlin? Look at him; he's so adorable."
My heart melts as I watch Jack's blue eyes droop and his head bob forward as he tries to fight off the urge to sleep. Definitely not a Gremlin.
Hannah gently runs her hand through his light brown hair, causing him to fall asleep in his mother's arms. We both lower our voices so that we don't wake him.
"He is a Gremlin. Just think about it, Aly. Rule One: no bright lights. If you snap a picture and forget to turn the flash off, he goes into a screaming rampage. Although, that one is understandable. Rule Two: don't get him wet. I was not blessed with the rare breed of children that loves to take baths. As soon as one drop of water touches his soft skin, out come the tears. Ironic, isn't it? Which brings me to Rule Three: don't feed him after midnight. If you do, two things will happen. One, he won't be able to fall back asleep. And two, you will have one big ass shitty diaper to dispose of an hour later. And it's not an easy cleanup. No, it's the diaper seeping, wash his clothes, needs a bath, liquid shit that I'm talking about."
I crinkle my nose in disgust at that visual. "Gross."
Hannah nods.
"Yeah, it is." She takes a beat before she decides to change the topic. "Anyway, I promised myself I wouldn't be the kind of mother that only talks about her kids. So, enough about me and my shitty problems, pun very much intended. What's going on with you? Did you land that job?"
I pull on the sleeve of the dress, rolling the yellow fabric between my fingertips. "Can I get out of this first before you analyze my life?"
She shakes her head. "No can do," Hannah uses her head to gesture at Jack, "I don't know how much longer he's going to be asleep. It could just be one of his ten-minute power naps."
I eye Hannah skeptically. Do babies really take power naps? I thought they slept for hours at a time.
"Okay. Well, I did get the job. But I may or may not have accidentally bumped into Darren leaving the interview this morning."
A surprised expression forms on Hannah's face. It's the kind of shocked expression that tells me if she were drinking any form of liquid, I would currently be wearing it. A classic spit-take, if you will.
"So, let me get this straight. You let me babble on about dripping shit explosions while you've been sitting on that juicy story?"
I tuck a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. "Yeah, pretty much."
"What the hell, Aly? What did you do? What did you say? What did he say? Is he sexy as sin? Are you going to get back together with him?" It's that last question that weighs heavy on my mind. I never even thought of that as even a remote possibility. I don’t know how Darren doesn’t hate me. After all, I ripped his heart out of his chest and threw it into a heart-chipper. In went his heart, out came heart-shaped confetti. But I had a good reason. He changed, and our priorities didn’t line up anymore.
I shake my head. “He asked me to lunch right before I came here.” I pause to shoot her a look that screams it’s not what you think so don’t get carried away. “But I said no, so don’t make too much of this. Besides, he probably has a girlfriend. He always did say he dreamed of getting married one day.” I strategically leave out the part where he specified to me. He dreamed he would be married to me.
Hannah looks at me like I've grown three additional heads. “Wait, he asked you out already? Why didn’t you go? And tell me something, why did you let this guy go? I mean, he has a British accent, right? That's all I could get Logan to tell me about him." Good, then Logan's been keeping the promise he made to me…even from his wife. He gets major brother brownie points for that one. And maybe even an above-and-beyond fantastical birthday present.
I clear my throat as quietly as I can manage before I answer her. "He does. Our story is complicated."
Hannah shakes her head in disbelief. "You are not getting away that easily. You know, when most people say something’s complicated, it’s usually not. What’s so complicated about it?”
“Well, ours is!” I snap. Hannah is dancing too close to my go-apeshit limit.
I release a long exhale, helping me calm down. I'm running on a small amount of sleep due to the late-night board game creation. Yeah, that’s it. That must be the reason for my irrational behavior today.
I feel like I owe her some sort of explanation for my quick outburst. “He just wasn't the man I fell in love with in the end. When I met him, he was ambitious, adventurous, and had a happy-go-lucky attitude toward everything. It was infectious. We both talked about how we wanted to travel the world. We even made a list of places we had to go and things we had to do while we were there. We were supposed to jet off after graduation. But then he changed. And I just couldn't let him hold me back anymore."
Hannah's mouth droops into a frown. She catches herself and brings her lips back to a more neutral position.
"That's a shame
. So, what happened when you saw each other again?" Hannah asks as she continues to run her fingers through her sleeping son's hair.
I tap my finger on my chin as I cycle through my mental Rolodex, trying to recall the interaction and decide just how much of the event I'm going to tell her. "Well, let's just say that when I said I bumped into him, I didn't mean it figuratively."
Her jaw drops open. "You didn't."
I crinkle my nose at her. "I did, spilling tea all over his white dress shirt."
"No!" Hannah squeals, quickly smacking a hand over her mouth. We both glance down at Jack. Phew, he's still asleep. As Hannah's gaze meets mine again, she removes her hand and mouths the word sorry. "Then what happened?"
She is practically on the edge of her seat, waiting to hear what words spew from my mouth next. She shakes her leg. I don't know if it's because she's antsy, or because it soothes her baby son by rocking him to sleep. In my mind, I believe it's the former, not the latter.
I look down at my feet as I speak this next part. "I ran away."
She shakes her head, causing the ends of her blonde curls to bounce off her shoulders. "What? Why would you do that?"
I shrug. "I don't know. I panicked. I was trying to avoid him as long as possible.”
“Well, that didn’t work,” she scoffs.
“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” I retort, marinating my words in sarcasm.
Hannah slaps my shoulder playfully. “So, how was he when he asked you to lunch? I want full details. Don’t you dare leave anything out.”
Her words bring me pause as I recall his actions. “He acted normal.”
She raises a brow and clicks her tongue, her bewilderment etched into her face. “Normal, how?”
I shrug, causing the ends of my hair to bounce off my shoulders. “I don’t know. Normalish. I mean, he wasn’t like he was when we first met. But he wasn’t acting like the man I left either. More in-between the two. It’s all so confusing. I can tell when I look into his eyes that something is bothering him. Something deep beneath the surface, but I haven’t the slightest clue what it is. I thought it could be me, but now, I’m not so sure.”
Hannah glances down at Jack for a moment to check on him before she returns her gaze to me. “Weird. Go all Sherlock Holmes on his ass and find out what he’s hiding.” She takes a beat to peck a kiss on the sleeping baby in her arms. “Now, I have a more personal question for you."
More personal than this? Color me intrigued. I eye her skeptically before I decide to give her the permission she seeks. "Okay? Shoot."
I grab a glass of champagne sitting on a serving tray to my left, bringing the sweet nectar to my lips as I wait anxiously for Hannah to ask said personal question.
"Has there been anyone since Darren?"
Her abruptness causes me to choke on my champagne. Once my coughing fit has subsided, and I've regained control over the airflow in my throat, I ponder her question for a moment. Hannah sits patiently, granting me time to let the shock value of her question fall. Logan warned me she was a curious spirit, but damn…I wasn't expecting this.
I shake my head. "I've kissed a few frogs here and there, but none of them ever landed on my lily-pad, if you know what I mean."
Hannah's body shudders with laughter at my admission. I watch in bewilderment as she wipes a dangling tear from the corner of her eye. Is she seriously laughing at me? Is it really that ridiculous that I haven't had sex in over five years?
She waves her hand in the air. "I'm sorry. Did you seriously just refer to it as a lily-pad?" Hannah sucks in a few deep breaths to calm herself. Thankfully, that does the trick, allowing her serious demeanor to return before she continues. "In all seriousness, honey. It's been what, five years now?"
I nod. I can feel the heat rushing to my cheeks as embarrassment overwhelms my body. Hannah takes my hand in both of hers, resting them beside Jack on her lap.
"You're long overdue to put yourself back out there."
"I've been on dates," I interject defensively. It's true. I have been on a few dates over the past five years. They may never have ended well, but they always started great. Whether it was that they still lived with their parents, hated traveling, were bored by history, didn't have a job, or liked country music. All of those are deal breakers for me.
"Oh, I'm sure you have. But that's not what I'm talking about."
What the hell is she talking about then? I can only assume that my confusion was showcased on my face because Hannah giggles in amusement.
"Sometimes I forget that you're still young and naive. What I am saying is that life has presented you with a golden opportunity. Therefore, you should take full advantage of it."
I quirk my brow. "How so?"
"Hello? Life threw you and the sexy British man into each other's paths today. Need I mention that a British accent practically oozes sex. With just a few words, he can have you pooling in your panties. I'm recommending that you find him and climb him like a tree. Assuming he's still single, of course. You need to find out that important bit of information first. I'm sure you can visit dear Ms. Abney and ask her. She'll sing like one of those precious birds she's always wearing."
I laugh. Whether it's from humor or discomfort, I don't know. "I don't think my brother is going to appreciate your recommendation."
She shrugs.
"Ah, what he doesn't know won't hurt him." Hannah winks. "Just promise me you'll at least think about having some adult-rated fun sooner rather than later."
Somehow, her demanding blue eyes pierce through all these damn layers and weigh heavy on my chest. "Fine, I'll think about it."
She beams with delight and satisfaction at my words. "Great! Now go get out of that monstrosity. It has officially lost its humor factor."
"My thoughts exactly."
Chapter Ten
Darren
I'm still bare-chested as I walk down the street, my jacket and tea-stained dress shirt slung over my shoulder. It's too bloody hot to put them back on, so I didn't bother doing it.
On the walk home, I can't help but wonder what my next move should be. My surprise visit from Alyssa today made me realize that I never once thought there was even a minuscule probability of her walking back into my life. Which is absurd considering I'm still living in the exact same town where she grew up. Her parting words choose this particular moment to echo in my mind. I can't do this anymore, Darren. I'm sorry.
Even thinking about it now causes my chest to squeeze tighter and my heart to pinch me. After all these years, those words shouldn't still have this effect on me. But they do. They cut just as deep as the day she walked away. Why is that?
I guess it doesn't matter. What does matter now is that life has given me a second chance with her. A second chance that I'm determined not to fuck up. But I could sure as hell use some advice on my newfound predicament. Lucky for me, Declan is visiting. He is the bloke I turned to when things went to shite back then. He will help put things in perspective for me. And to top everything off, having Kelsie around now allows me to garner a female's perspective on the situation.
Ascending my driveway, I stride toward the front door to my house and insert the key. Giving it a turn, the deadbolt clicks open, granting me access to the inside. I turn the handle and pull the door open. Wyatt is right there to greet me. He's lying in the foyer with his head resting on the floor. He appears non-confrontational, almost as if he is hiding from something…or someone. But that can't be the case. Wyatt loves Declan, and he's grown accustomed to having Kelsie around.
Wyatt's head shoots up when he notices me. I take note of the quick shift in his demeanor. Maybe he just missed me? He stands upright as he scurries over to me. He lowers his head, gripping my trousers between his teeth as he gives them a tug.
I kneel down and scratch the top of his head. "What is it, lad?"
Wyatt releases his grasp on my trousers. As his body turns around, Wyatt lifts his paw and points his snout toward the kitchen. Okay, color me int
rigued.
I tiptoe my way into the living room, not exactly sure why I feel the need to be quiet. My eyes drop to Wyatt, who's following in my footsteps. When I lift my gaze, that's when it all makes sense. I flash Wyatt a look that says: Wyatt, I'm so sorry you had to see this.
In the kitchen, I find Declan and Kelsie. She is dressed in one of Declan's T-shirts, which looks massive on her curvy figure. The shirt is navy with a reddish fox residing in the middle of it. It reads: oh for fox sake. Definitely classic Declan-style attire.
Kelsie's back is flush up against the granite countertop rim of the island. Declan's arms are flanking her sides as his weight pins her into place. He's clad in only his tight boxer-briefs, which leave nothing to the imagination. He's clearly sporting a stonker. And I sure as hell am going to rag on him about it later. It’s classic bro-code, article five, subsection B, paragraph seven: if you spot any man sporting wood in his trousers, you shall, nay, you must, mock him about it for the rest of time.
Neither of them has noticed my presence yet, which is both disconcerting and shocking. I should be enraged, but I'm not. I'm more shocked than anything. This happened too damn fast. I've only been gone an hour. Two at the most. And one can only assume they've already engaged in the ol' rumpy-pumpy.
"Are you two done?" I inquire sternly.
"Blimey!" Declan shouts as he jumps backward, his head colliding with the stainless-steel refrigerator.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. "Really, mate? Please, just go put some trousers on."
He lifts his brows. "Feeling inadequate? It could've been worse. I could've been starkers with my bits and pieces swinging around the place."
He's right; that would have been significantly worse. I shake my head. "No, not inadequate. Miffed is the word I would use."
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