by Lucy Hawkins
DUMPED
Lucy Hawkins
Copyright © 2018 by Lucy Hawkins
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
To anyone that’s ever been dumped.
Contents
Prologue
1. Alex
2. Hank
3. Alex
4. Hank
5. Alex
6. Hank
7. Alex
8. Hank
9. Alex
10. Hank
11. Alex
12. Hank
13. Alex
14. Hank
15. Alex
16. Hank
17. Alex
18. Hank
19. Hank
20. Alex
21. Hank
22. Alex
23. Hank
24. Alex
25. Hank
26. Alex
27. Hank
28. Alex
29. Hank
30. Alex
31. Hank
Alex
About the Author
Also by Lucy Hawkins
Prologue
Alex
This is not happening. This cannot be happening. It’s got to be a dream.
“Alex?”
Hazel’s voice was a muffled, faint echo, as though they were underwater instead of standing a small room used as a dressing room in Burden Mansion—one of the most highly sought-after wedding venues in New York City. And maybe they were. Alex certainly felt like he was drowning, heavy weights of heartbreak and shame dragging him under an invisible body of water.
“Get me out of here.” The words were shaky as Alex turned to face his maid of honor, tears stinging his eyes. “Just get me the hell out of here, and don’t let anyone see me.”
Sure, he might have sounded like a prima donna, but at the moment, he didn’t particularly care. If there was anyone in the world who wouldn’t judge him, it was Hazel. Besides, he had more than enough right to be upset right now. His stomach churned as she shot him a sympathetic look. This was how people would see him now—some jilted groom. A wedding planner whose own wedding was a total failure. He was the laughingstock of Manhattan now. No one would hire him after this. He was done for. Finished.
“What’s taking so long?” Alex’s sister Taylor shouted from behind the closed door. “Everyone’s waiting, Alex. Where’s Grant?”
Where was Grant? Not here, that was for certain. Not getting ready for their wedding. A hollow ache deep in Alex’s chest took his breath away. Grant was gone. He’d left. Disappeared.
People would want answers, but at the moment, Alex didn’t have the strength to give them. Besides that, he had enough unanswered questions floating around in his head. How could he do this to me? Did I really mean so little to him that he would leave without an explanation? Was our relationship even real? Did he love me?
His vision blurred, and he wiped angrily at his eyes. All he wanted right now was out. Out of the damn dressing room and away from the venue where three-hundred guests were waiting for him to appear. Out of Manhattan. He wanted nothing more than to hide away and never be seen again. To start a new life somewhere with a new name, one where he didn’t have to deal with the fallout of what was to come.
“I’ll handle this,” Hazel said, and Alex realized he hadn’t answered his sister. “Leave it to me. I’ll take care of it, and then we’re getting out of here. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ve got you.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek and then turned on her heel. “That bastard. I swear to God…” Slipping out the door, she pulled it closed, speaking in hushed tones to Taylor.
Alex wrapped his arms as tightly around himself as he could and tried to hold back a sob. His gaze snagged along the large mirror that adorned one whole side of the dressing room, and for a moment, he didn’t recognize himself. Gone was the confident, smiling man in the expensive designer suit. The suit remained, but despair had replaced confidence, and in place of a smile were tear tracks and red puffy eyes.
How could this have happened? He didn’t understand. Sure, Hazel had relayed everything Grant said. She’d held the phone to her ear, her expression grim, as Grant informed her he wasn’t coming. He’d changed his mind. He was sorry. Marrying Alex would be a mistake for the both of them.
Even if that were the case—which Alex didn’t believe for a minute—it still didn’t excuse the fact that Grant had waited until the day of their wedding to say he wanted out of their relationship. They’d spent a small fortune on the venue, the catering, the invitations. Hell, even the flowers had cost upwards of five thousand dollars.
As Hazel slipped back into the dressing room, Alex let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “It’s clear,” she said. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Gladly.
Alex followed her out the door, his muscles tense as he prayed to any deity listening they wouldn’t see anyone. Someone must have taken pity on him. They didn’t see a soul as they approached the black Sedan waiting out front—the same car they’d arrived in only hours earlier. It had already been decorated, adorned with pink and white roses and a sash with both Grant and Alex’s names in swirly gold font along with the date. Hazel grabbed the sash and tore it off before tossing it on the sidewalk. Alex watched it drift to the ground, a physical representation of the end of their relationship.
“Where to?” the driver asked as they slipped inside, his eyes meeting Alex’s in the rear-view mirror.
He quickly diverted his gaze, remembering the way they’d looked in the mirror, bloodshot and red-rimmed. No doubt the driver had caught on to what was happening. Hazel glanced over, a questioning look on her face. He hadn’t thought this far. Where was he even supposed to go? Not the apartment he’d shared with Grant for the past four years. That wasn’t home anymore. Only one place came to mind—a place no one from Manhattan would ever find him.
“Home,” he said. “Take me back to Redwood.”
One
Alex
Three months later
Someone was hammering against Alex’s bedroom door. He stuck his head out from under his blankets, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he peered over at the alarm clock on his nightstand. The numbers were blurry, but he could just make them out—9:23AM.
“Mom, I’m sleeping.” He sounded petulant even to his own ears, like a hormonal teenager. Part of him knew he should be ashamed of that, but an even larger part didn’t care.
“Alex?” The voice at the door wasn’t his mother’s. It was Hazel’s. “I’m giving you thirty seconds before I open up, so you better be decent.”
Before, he would have been out of bed in half a second flat to comb his hair and put on a clean T-shirt. But that wasn’t him anymore. He tried to summon up the will to care if Hazel saw him with horrible bedhead and stubble that had grown into a patchy beard, but there was none there. Gone were the days of flair, style, and proper grooming he’d had in Manhattan.
A twist on the doorknob brought him back to the matter at hand. What was Hazel doing back in Redwood? She didn’t make the drive often, and Alex couldn’t remember any discussion they’d had about her coming for a visit. Surely, they hadn’t made plans for today.
“Time’s up! I’m coming in.” She pushed the door open and walked into Alex’s bedroom with a number of shopping bags hanging from her hands.
To say she looked out of place was an understatement—sophisticated, fashionable Hazel standing in Alex’s childhood bedroom. She looked around, a slight wrinkle in her nose, before her eyes settled on Alex and
her expression changed to one of pity and horror.
“Don’t say it,” Alex mumbled.
He knew how he must look. He hadn’t showered in three days, hadn’t made his bed in closer to a month, and at least two pizza boxes and a host of tissues littered the floor.
“You know I love you, Al,” she started. “But it’s time for some real talk, babe. I’m not going to sit back and let you become this…” Hazel looked around the room again, clearly searching for a delicate way to phrase whatever she wanted to say.
“What?” Alex asked. Whatever she was about to say was the truth, and probably something he needed to hear, even if he didn’t want to hear it. He was allowed to mope for a few weeks. Or months.
“You’re a mess. And that’s just putting it lightly.” Hazel gestured to the three empty cartons of Ben and Jerry’s on his desk. “How much Chunky Monkey and reruns of RuPaul’s is it going to take before you’re functioning again? It’s been almost three months. You’re the chunky monkey now. I mean, I know what happened was rough, but you’ve got to pick yourself up.”
Alex rolled over, away from her, and pulled the covers over his head. It was all too easy for Hazel to point out everything wrong with him. She didn’t know what he was dealing with. How he felt. In a single day, everything that had mattered to Alex had been taken away—his job, his relationship, hell, even his home. But it was more than that. Everything he had planned, everything he had dreamed of—his entire future—was gone.
I’m supposed to be married and in that lovey-dovey honeymoon phase with Grant. The one I always thought was so disgusting with other people but wanted so badly for myself. I was supposed to be planning weddings.
Alex rubbed the heels of his hands across his eyes. Instead, he was stuck back in Redwood, with no idea how to get back to that place. Starting all over was something he hadn’t planned for. How was he supposed to do that?
“Did you come here just to make me feel bad, or do you have some other agenda? I thought you’d be off at one of your ladies’ charity luncheons or shopping at Bergdorf’s.” It was satisfying getting that little jab in. The only reason Hazel had even started doing any of that was to get in the good graces of her boyfriend’s Upper East Side family.
“Ha! Smart ass.” She rolled her eyes and plopped down the shopping bags at the end of Alex’s bed before sitting down herself. “If you must know, I actually had a reason to drive three hours upstate to visit you.
“Yeah?”
That didn’t surprise him. Visiting Redwood was rare. Both Alex and Hazel had grown up there, so they weren’t strangers to its small, upstate charm. But being so far from the city, it was rare for either one of them to visit. Before being left at the altar, Alex hadn’t spent more than a few days in Redwood since he’d moved to New York City nearly a decade earlier. The only times he or Hazel made the trip back were for holidays or the obligatory birthday party of a relative.
“Yeah.” Hazel looked around the room, looking as though she was trying to find her words.
“Spit it out,” Alex said, throwing a pillow at her. It had to be something about Grant. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be so hesitant. She’d probably seen him around town, maybe even met up with him. Oh God, he was dating someone new, wasn’t he? Probably younger and hotter. A knot formed in Alex’s stomach as he anticipated whatever heartbreaking bombshell she was going to drop on him.
“I’m pregnant,” she blurted out.
Alex blinked a few times, a crease forming between his brows. Surely, he hadn’t heard that right. “Wait, what?”
Hazel stared at her hands in her lap. “Guess I wasn’t being as careful as I should have been. I mean, I was on the pill and everything, but there was that time I had the stomach flu, and I couldn’t keep anything down and…”
Biting the corner of his lip, Alex fought back a grin. “You mean that while you were, um—how do I say this politely—having stomach issues which had you bound to a toilet for an entire week, you and Aaron were still banging the shit out of each other?”
Hazel tsked. “Poor choice of words, Alex.”
He thought about it for a second and then pretended to dry-heave. “Really should have thought about that.”
As Alex sat back against the bed, the full effect of her words sank in. Shit. He had no idea what to say. After spending so long in his self-absorbed bubble feeling sorry for himself, it was easy to forget that life had continued as normal for everyone else. Reaching out, he pulled her up to the head of the bed and into his arms.
“I’m happy for you. I really am.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and placed his hand on her stomach. “I’m going to be an uncle!”
Instead of smiling, Hazel sniffled, and her eyes filled with ears. Well fuck. Clearly that hadn’t been the right thing to say, either.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice shaking. She pressed the sides of her fingers against her bottom lashes, doing her best to wipe the tears away without smudging her mascara. “It’s just so crazy, you know? It feels like it’s only been a year ago that we moved to the city. We were just kids. And now there’s this little life growing inside me, and I’m going to be a mom. I don’t know how to be a mom.”
“You’re going to be the best goddamn mom in the world.” Alex nudged her shoulder. “You’ve had enough practice mothering me. It’s in your nature. What does Aaron think?”
Some of the tension left her shoulders, and a soft smile flittered across her lips. “He’s over the moon. That’s part of why I’m here. I wanted to tell you in person about the pregnancy, but there’s something else.”
She reached into her pocket, pulled out a small box, and opened it. Inside was the biggest diamond ring Alex had ever seen in his life. Plucking it from the velvet cushion, she slid it on her left ring finger. Alex frowned, and then all the pieces clicked into place.
“Oh my God!” He scrambled backward then surged forward to grab her hand. “You’re getting married?”
“You’re the first person I’ve told!” she said, beaming. Her expression faltered a little. “I was worried you’d…”
The implication was obvious. Hazel was worried she would upset him. After all, she was his best friend, and she was engaged only months after his fiancé had left him at the altar. But Alex couldn’t begrudge her this. She was practically glowing. It was almost enough to pull him out of his funk. For the moment, at least.
“Hazel,” he said, taking her hand. “I couldn’t be happier for you right now.”
“Thank you. Honestly, that means a lot. There’s actually something else.” She looked down to their joined hands. Good Lord. There’d already been an engagement and a pregnancy. What more could there be? With her free hand, she twirled her strawberry blonde hair around her finger. “I want you to plan the wedding. Actually, I need you to.”
What was he supposed to say to that? After the fiasco of his own failed wedding, Alex had sworn off planning ever again. But this was Hazel. She’d been with him through everything.
“I… I can’t,” he said with a sigh. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t.”
“You can,” Hazel said, squeezing his hand. “I know this isn’t easy for you, but you’re my best friend, and you’re the most amazing wedding planner I know. I need you. The wedding has to happen fast. I can’t trust anyone else with the knowledge that this is going to be a shotgun wedding.” The last few words were said with a laugh, but there was a tiny spark of fear in her eyes.
If it were anyone else, Alex would have been angry they’d even asked. But this was Hazel. They’d talked about their weddings since they were kids. Weddings were his passion. At least, they had been until Grant ruined it for him. Just the idea of attending Hazel’s wedding had him on the brink of a panic attack. But he knew he wouldn’t just be attending. She would want him in her bridal party, which made him even more of an anxious mess. Planning the wedding? That was absolutely out of the question.
He pulled the covers over his head again, hoping he coul
d simply disappear into the mattress.
“Everyone thinks I’m a joke,” he mumbled. “My own wedding was a disaster. I’m cursed. Do you really want a cursed wedding planner planning your wedding? It’s a bad omen.”
Hazel pulled the covers down, her face set. “How many weddings have you planned since yours went belly up?”
Alex recoiled a little at the callousness of the question. “None.” Why would anyone want him to plan theirs?
“Exactly. So how do you know if you’re cursed?”
“Hazel—”
“I’ll be your guinea pig.”
“My what?” Alex asked.
“Your guinea pig. If you plan my wedding and we end up not getting married or getting divorced or whatever, then you can say you’re cursed. And I’ll get child support. It’s a win-win.”
Alex chuckled in spite of himself.
“You’re my wedding planner,” Hazel said, all teasing aside. “You’ve always been my wedding planner.”
She was right. They had talked about their weddings from day one. It had been set in stone that I would plan it for her. She wanted to get married at The Lakeside Inn, just like her parents had. The whole thing was going to be a mix of big city class and small-town charm with swans and magical lighting. The works.
“So, I’m guessing those bags are full of bribes, huh?” Alex asked, gesturing to the stack precariously balanced at the foot of his bed.
