Diary of a Wedding Planner in Love (Tales Behind the Veils Book 2)

by Howe, Violet

  "I'm sorry," I said to Dancing Man. "I'm just dealing with a situation. Please just leave us alone."

  Dancing Man looked for a moment like he had no intention of backing down, but then Cabe stumbled and almost fell flat on his face. I think the dude realized there was no fight to be had. He glared at me again before he walked away, and I truly felt bad for the guy's unwitting role in my drama.

  I struggled to get Cabe down the stairs, sure a couple of times he was going to tumble us both ass over teakettle. We were almost to the door when he announced they had his credit card at the bar for his tab.

  "I need you to stand right here, okay? Cabe? Are you listening? I need you to stay here. I'm going to get your card, but they're not going to give it to me without you letting them know it's okay. So stand right here, please?" I worried he would freak out over me telling him what to do again, but instead he smiled and took my face in his hands. His breath reeked enough to intoxicate me, and I turned my head to dodge a drunken kiss. "Stay here."

  "Yes, ma'am, Buttercup. Whatever you say. I don't want you to elbow me in the ribs." He made a noise that sounded somewhat like his laugh.

  I managed to get the bartender to give me his card, but Cabe had to come and sign the tab. I was shocked to see he had consumed six drinks in the past hour. I'd seen him put away a few here and there over the years, but nothing like this. What the hell was he trying to do? I looked at the check again, hoping the bartender had charged him for someone else's drinks by mistake. But there were six gin and tonics. Maybe he had spilled them. Or sat them down and walked away. Undoubtedly, he hadn't consumed that much.

  But his condition made it seem highly likely that he had.

  The trip to the car took forever, laborious and slow. I couldn't bear his entire weight, and his height made it difficult for me to hold him upright to walk. We had to stop and sit for a few minutes every time we saw a bench, and by the time we got to his car, I was exhausted and aching from head to toe.

  I worried the whole time he would refuse to give me the keys, but he handed them over without question and spilled himself into the passenger seat. I couldn't reach the pedals at all, and he laughed as I waited for the BMW's driver seat to move all the way forward.

  "You're short." He hiccuped as he said it, and I chose to just ignore him. Just as I had ignored his comments and outbursts of singing the whole way to the car.

  He let the window down and leaned his entire upper body out of it as I drove, and I prayed he wouldn't fall out.

  "Are you gonna be sick?" I asked when he got quiet and laid his head on the window's edge. He didn't answer me, but I didn't hear any gagging noises so I hoped for the best.

  I knew I couldn't get him up the stairs to my apartment, so I went to his place. He had fallen asleep in the car, and I swear his body weighed twice as much as before when he leaned against me. Getting him out of the car and into the pool house nearly killed me. It's a miracle we made it inside without waking Maggie up.

  He collapsed across the bed, and I got his shoes off and swung his legs onto the bed, pulling the sheet over him. I thought he had fallen back asleep, but he suddenly opened his eyes and looked right at me. For possibly the first time all night.

  "I don't want anyone else to have you, Tyler. I can't bear the thought of it."

  Words sprang to my throat in argument about his behavior earlier with Dancing Man, but I swallowed them back down. He was in no condition to argue, and his voice trembled with too much pain for me to attack him.

  "No one else has me, Cabe."

  "I can't do this. It hurts, and it scares me. I don't deserve you."

  My anger ebbed as my heart clenched in response to him. I moved to sit beside him on the bed and pushed his hair off his forehead.

  "You're not making any sense."

  "No, you have to listen to me, Tyler. You need to stay away from me. I'm messed up."

  "Don't say that."

  He turned his head away from me. "You don't understand. I'm not good enough for you. You deserve so much better. One day you'll figure that out and be gone."

  I knew it was futile to try and make sense of drunken ramblings, but I also desperately wanted to understand what was happening. Obviously, something much bigger than tonight.

  "What are you talking about? Talk to me."

  He looked back at me with a lopsided smile, his eyes unfocused and bloodshot. "I want to take you to Paris. I want to see Paris with you."

  "You will. We're going to Paris next week."

  "I can't wait for you to see Notre Dame. I want to take a river cruise with you. I want to see your face when you watch the lights dance on the Eiffel Tower. I want to do everything with you. I want us to do it all." His speech slurred even worse, the words running together like slow molasses.

  "We will, Cabe. We will."

  "I wish you understood. I wish I could make you understand." He closed his eyes as he said it.

  "So tell me. Make me understand. Cabe? Cabe?"

  He snored, fast asleep. I repositioned myself to stretch out next to him on the mattress and tried to pull the sheet over my legs.

  I heard a deep intake of his breath, and then he turned and kissed the top of my head.

  "Don't leave me, Ty. I don't want to lose you." He spoke in barely a whisper, and I would have thought he was talking in his sleep had it not been for the kiss.

  "I'm right here, Cabe. You're not going to lose me."

  "I can't lose you, and I can't have you." His words drifted off and almost immediately he started snoring again. The loud, grizzly bear snores of someone who has had too much to drink when they finally succumb to sleep.

  I lay beside him replaying the entire night in my head. Analyzing every decision. Every word. Every action. What I could have done differently. What I could have said. But no matter how I replayed it, I couldn't get his words out of my head. Why didn't he think he was good enough for me? Why did he think he was going to lose me? Or couldn't have me?

  I stayed until just before sunrise without ever falling asleep and slipped out to avoid any morning encounters with Maggie. I left him a note saying I had his car and would bring it back when I woke up.

  It's almost seven in the morning now, and I've just showered and am going to try to sleep. What am I supposed to do with all this?

  Sunday, March 2nd

  I woke up a little after two in the afternoon with a raging headache and a sour stomach. Considering I didn't even drink last night, I hated to think how bad Cabe must be feeling. I shuffled to the kitchen and found my phone dead on the counter, so I plugged it in and considered going back to bed.

  The phone beeped as soon as it powered back up. Cabe had texted a couple of times asking if I was awake, and he had left a voice mail.

  Hey Ty. Sorry about last night. Thanks for getting me home. Don't know how you managed that, and I hope I wasn't too much of an ass to deal with. At some point, you'll probably need to fill me in on what happened. Although based on what I do remember at the club, I'm not sure I want to know. Your phone's going straight to voice mail, so I don't know if you're sleeping or mad at me. I'm hoping sleeping. I asked Dean to bring me to my car, so don't freak out if you go outside and it's gone. Call me, okay?

  My stomach roiled. I wasn't ready to call him. I called Mel instead and asked if I could come over.

  "You don't look so good," she said when I walked through her front door.

  "Thanks, Mel. Just what I wanted to hear."

  "Have you eaten?"

  I shook my head.

  "You need to eat. Let me fix you something. What do you want?"

  "Nothing."

  She ignored me and made toast with peanut butter and honey. I ate it like a wild boar, so I guess I was hungry after all.

  When I'd poured out the details from last night, she scrunched her face up and said, "Poor Cabe."

  "Poor Cabe? What? Really, Mel?"

  "Tyler, the guy is obviously dealing with something huge. Surely you
can see he's hurting."

  "Well, yeah. But so am I. Except he's the one hurting me. I don't know if I can keep doing this, Mel. It's like being on a ride at the fair that makes you sick and thrills you at the same time. One minute you think it's fun, and then the next minute you're begging them to stop the ride and let you off. I think I want off."

  "Love doesn't come easy, babe. It's work. Why do you think they vow for better and for worse?"

  "I haven't made any vows, Mel. He's never even said the L word. I realize he's going through something, but he won't talk to me. He's always talked to me, told me what was bothering him, or what he was thinking. But I feel like since he came back from Seattle, and especially since we kind of took this a step further. It's so frustrating. I get that it's something with his family, and obviously he's got lingering divorce stuff, but damn, Mel, what am I supposed to do? I want to support him, but at what point do I just say this hurts too much and stop the ride? I can't help him if he won't talk to me."

  She sighed and kicked back in her recliner. "He needs to talk to you, for sure. Do you think you could talk to Maggie?"

  I shook my head. "Oh, hell to the no! He would be furious. Not only that, but I don't think she'd tell me anything. I think it may have something to do with Galen talking to me at the comedy club, or Maggie taking me to lunch, but I don't get the whole bit about him not being good enough for me and him not deserving me. What's that all about?"

  "I don't know. Poor guy."

  "Poor guy nothing! Stop saying that! He needs to talk to me. He needs to let me in on whatever's going on instead of pulling me close and then shoving me away. Passing me off to some other guy and then telling me he doesn't want to lose me. Or drinking himself into oblivion. He's lucky he didn't end up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning. What was he thinking?"

  Mel put the recliner back down and came to sit on the couch beside me.

  "Look, Ty. You've known this guy for how long now? He's never treated you this way before. He's never acted like this before. Something's going on. He's in pain. Men can't talk about their feelings the way we do. It's hard for them to open up."

  "But he's always talked to me!"

  "Yeah, when you guys were just friends. Now that you've gone beyond that, it makes him more vulnerable. He has something to lose now. You gotta cut him some slack until you know what's going on. You guys are going to Paris this week, right?"

  "I don't know, Mel. I'm thinking maybe it's not such a great idea. I mean, what if he acts like this over there? Or what if he decides once we get there he wants to pull the disappearing act again? I don't speak French. How will I find my way around? What about Maggie saying we shouldn't go?"

  "Cabe told you he wants to go, right? I say you try not to bring any of this up in the next few days. Take the pressure off, and just leave him be. When you guys get to Paris, you'll have lots of time alone. Away from his family and their crap. It'll be romantic. You'll be staying in a hotel room. Eating croissants. Drinking wine. Who knows? Maybe he'll even finally go all the way. Probably what the man needs. He's got the batter on the brain, messing him up. You just need to throw him down in that hotel room and make him forget all his troubles. Ride him, cowgirl!"

  "Oh my God, Mel! Batter on the brain? You kill me!" We both laughed. "It's not like we haven't been doing anything, you know? We've fooled around. There's been other…sexual activities. We've both had our share of some happy-ending sessions."

  Mel shook her head and smiled at me. "Not the same thing."

  "What do you mean, not the same thing? We didn't do any of this stuff when we were friends. I definitely don't pass out any of those types of favors for any of my other friends. We just haven't had actual intercourse. For some reason he seems to draw the line at that."

  "Because it's different," Mel said. "I'm telling you, intercourse means something more to some guys. It's the grand prize. Everything else is just consolation. Cabe's a tender-hearted guy. A romantic. It's gonna mean something to him."

  I rolled my eyes and exhaled.

  "Think about this, Ty. You guys have both been dealing with commitment issues since you met. I mean, if me and his sister are right and this guy's been in love with you for five years without having sex with you, it says a lot. It tells me he got companionship, friendship, and fun from you. It was safe. He could love you without any risk and without any commitment. He got his physical needs met with other people he dated, but never really committed to any of them. Well, until Monica."

  I flinched at the thought of Cabe's needs being met by other girls, despite the fact I'd been in his life during each of those short-lived romances. My stomach turned at the thought of him with Monica. Now that I'd given into my feelings for him and been intimate with him, it bothered me greatly to think of him being with anyone else.

  "Since you guys have acted on your feelings, it opens him up to get hurt. It's a risk."

  "But it's a risk for me, too!"

  "Yes, but you're ready. He's not. I think by holding back on sex, he's holding onto the last thing he hasn't already given you. You have his heart. You have his time. His companionship. His trust. If he has to go all in physically, then there's nothing left that you don't have. You have him by the balls, then. Literally and figuratively. I'd be willing to bet whatever's going on with Cabe has to do with commitment. He's told you he wants to wait to have sex. He's told you he needs time before he can go any deeper into this. He's backed off when you guys get close. I think the whole thing centers around his commitment issues."

  I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed with frustration.

  "Listen Ty, I don't think he's gonna go there until he's decided he's all in. Ready to lay his claim. Like, okay, now you're mine. I think that's where the just friends comment came in last night. He's not sure he's ready to claim anything yet, but based on what he said later about not wanting to lose you, he doesn't want to let you go, either. He's scared."

  I considered her words. Not any great revelation, of course. I knew Cabe had commitment issues. We both did. Hell, how long had it taken me to be able to even acknowledge my feelings for him? But it hurt to think he didn't want to commit to me, or that he was holding back from me to keep from being all in. Fear and anxiety mingled with my frustration and anger in an uneasy cocktail.

  "So what if he decides it's not worth it, and he doesn't want to stay?"

  "Cabe loves you, Tyler. I've been telling you this for how long? He just needs time. He needs space. Whatever this family thing is just adds to the pressure he's struggling with right now. He's hurting. You gotta be patient." She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and hugged me to her. "I'm sorry, honey. I want you to be happy," she whispered against my ear.

  I pulled back. "Me too, Mel. Me too. I thought I'd found The One. That everything would finally work out. But ever since I figured out how I felt about Cabe, it seems like it's gone all wrong." Tears rolled down my face, and I didn't even bother to wipe them away.

  "Oh, Tyler. A lot happens between Once Upon A Time and Happily Ever After. I've never yet read a fairy tale where she met the prince and they immediately rode off into the sunset. There's usually dragons or witches or evil curses. You can't give up on him, though."

  "I'm not giving up on him. Yet. But how do you know when you need to keep being supportive and loving versus when you need to cut your losses and walk away? This hurts."

  "Get to Paris. It'll be just the two of you. No family. No pressure. Wait and see what happens in Paris. In the city of love. Don't try and make him talk before then. Just get to Paris and take it from there."

  I called him on my way back home.

  The concern in his voice when he answered made me feel guilty for not calling earlier. "Hey, Buttercup! Did you just get up? Are you okay?"

  "I'm fine. I've been at Mel's."

  He was silent for a moment, probably digesting the fact that I had been up and out of the house without calling him back.

  "I'm really sorry about las
t night, Ty."

  I refused to say it was okay, because it wasn't. But I figured I might as well follow Mel's advice and not push it. I'd wait for Paris.

  "Yeah, you really tied one on. How you feeling today?"

  "I've felt better, for sure. I haven't moved off the couch much since I got back from picking up my car. Thanks for getting me home. For taking care of me."

  I grimaced. "Anytime, buddy. That's what friends are for, right?" Snarky, I know. I probably shouldn't have said it. But the we're just friends comment still stung.

  He hesitated a minute. "You wanna come over?"

  I was surprised to realize I really didn't. I didn't want to see him. I didn't want to talk to him. I didn't want to worry about what I said or what he said or what he was thinking or how he felt. I just wanted to be alone.

  "Nah, I'm gonna head home. I'm tired."

  A slight pause on his end before he spoke. "We still going to the Mardi Gras parade on Tuesday? It's tradition."

  The Mardi Gras parade. Our tradition. Other than last year when he was in Seattle, we'd been every year since we met. I’ve always loved the elaborate costumes and floats—so much purple!—but what makes me ridiculously happy is to catch beads. Stupid, plastic, ugly-ass beads I will never wear anywhere. Maybe it's my competitive nature along with the thrill of getting something for free, but we have a blast laughing together as Cabe jumps high and fields everything I can't reach and I end up laden down with plastic. It's always a good time. We could sure use a good time right now.

  "Yep. Wouldn't miss it." I couldn't muster excitement into my voice, and I'm sure he noticed. It was taking all I had to hold my tongue and not spew forth everything I was thinking and feeling.

  Just get to Paris. Just get to Paris. Just get to Paris. We'll talk everything out when we get to Paris.

  Tuesday, March 4th

  I knew he didn't feel well as soon as I opened the door. His face was flushed, his eyes glassy.

  "Are you okay?"