by BK Rivers
“Feel better?” he asks. His lips turn up into a smile—the one that lights up his face—and my stomach does a little flip. I nod, push off from the wall, and stand in front of him.
“It’s a shame I have to go back to Phoenix after Reggie’s wedding,” I say, looping my arm through his elbow again. We walk back inside the club and spend the rest of the night dancing and laughing with my friends.
Chapter 4
Ace
“Black tie or navy tie?” Holding both up to my neck so Ethan can help me chose which to wear to Reggie’s wedding is humiliating. I never have a problem knowing what to wear. Ethan glances over his shoulder, shrugs, and returns his focus to the morning news. Screw it—I don’t need to wear one. I toss both aside, unbutton the two top buttons of the white dress shirt, and leave my suit coat open.
I’m probably an idiot. Scratch that, I know I’m an idiot. When Stacey asked if I wanted to go to Reggie and Jordan’s wedding, I had said yes. Why? I have no idea. And since she still didn’t want to exchange numbers last week, I have no way to reach her and cancel. Not that I necessarily would, but I’d at least have the option to. Instead, here I sit, lacing up my brown derby shoes and muttering a string of curses under my breath.
The girl is freaking leaving tomorrow and here I am going to a wedding with her. Sure, dancing and hanging out with her last week was fun and I enjoyed her company. She’s nice to look at and sexy without even thinking about it.
But she’s not Marley.
No one will ever be Marley, and I don’t deserve to feel anything close to what I felt for her.
“I won’t wait up for you,” Ethan teases from the couch.
“Yeah, well, I’m not planning on coming home tonight.” Wincing, I pull Ethan’s keys from the counter, shove my wallet into the back pocket of my black dress pants, and slap my hands down hard on Ethan’s bare shoulders. I didn’t want to ride my motorcycle while dressed for a wedding, so he let me borrow his black Audi A4. I’m pretty sure he likes my motorcycle just as much as I do based on his eagerness to offer his keys.
“Jesus, man,” he shouts, jerking out from under my hands. “That hurt like hell.”
“Just letting you know that nothing’s going to happen tonight.”
“I wouldn’t fault you if it did, dude.” Ethan rubs his bright red shoulders and I smirk, noting the handprints forming on his skin. “No one would.”
I would. It would gut me—pull me apart—knowing I was betraying her memory. I won’t do that to her. “Whatever, man. See you tomorrow.”
“Later.”
***
I can’t say that I’ve ever been through Torrance before. It’s small, like three stoplights small and they aren’t timed at all. You go a hundred yards only to be stopped by a red light. Then you repeat the process. It shouldn’t take fifteen minutes to drive through a town this size.
The buildings lining the main street are a mix of red brick and stacked beige stone and gothic in architecture. The one grocery store in town is busy, as is the drive-thru coffee hut in the center of downtown. My cell reception has been spotty and I’m hoping the GPS holds out until I reach my destination in…seven point eight miles.
I pass golden fields of wheat slowly waving in the breeze, and as the tops of the hills kiss the cloudless robin’s egg blue skies, I can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. I’m still here to enjoy a beautiful day like today and she’s not. And there is nothing I can do about it.
A large white sign painted with bold plum-colored letters that reads ‘Wedding This Way’ is posted at the beginning of the long driveway leading up to the event. Massive trees line the driveway that seems to go on and on. I park behind a long line of cars already here for the celebration, toss a mint in my mouth, and climb out of Ethan’s car. The house is a good hundred feet from where I parked, but I don’t mind walking. It is an older, small, two-story farmhouse style with a green shingled roof and good-sized windows all around. I walk up to the front porch, knock on the door, and shove my hands in the pockets of my pants.
A barrage of footsteps sounds from inside and then the door swings open, revealing a toothy little boy with shaggy dark brown hair wearing a tailored suit.
“You here for my mom and dad’s wedding?” the boy asks, wearing an ear to ear smile.
“Uh, yeah?” I glance inside quickly and then over my shoulders. I sure as hell hope I have the right wedding. “Is Stacey here?”
The boy nods eagerly, turns, and high-tails it up the stairs, calling for her. I step inside, close the door behind me, and wait in the entryway. Three deep breaths later, and a pair of sculpted, pale legs descend the stairs. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I silently pray she’s wearing more than my imagination is dreaming up. Finally…finally, the rest of her is revealed, however, she’s wearing a short black silk robe tied around her narrow waist.
A wide, genuine smile graces her lips, making my heart stutter in my chest. Her fiery red hair is in a loose braid on one side and trails over her right shoulder in loose waves. The makeup on her face accentuates her golden eyes and highlights the natural pink in her cheeks.
“You look beautiful,” I say as she pulls me in for a hug. Her arms wrap around my back under my arms that somehow return the embrace.
“You should see me in my dress,” she whispers at my neck.
“I like what I’m seeing here,” I say, not recognizing the roughness in my own voice.
Stacey backs away from our hug and searches my face. I know what she’s looking for, but it won’t be there. Truthfully, it hurts seeing her trying to find it.
“You clean up pretty well too, Mr. Officer.” Her eyes travel over my black suit coat, to the V at my collar, exposing my neck and the top of my chest. Her gaze travels south, stopping briefly near my belt and then she quickly glances back to my face. “I like what I see too,” she says.
“What can I do to help, anything?” I can’t stand awkward, and right now this entryway is filled with it. I’m a take-charge kind of guy and prefer to be put to work rather than sitting around doing nothing.
“The guys are in the back, you can see if they need any help. I’ve got to run back upstairs and finish getting dressed.” Stacey turns and yeah, I check out her legs and how short the hem of her little black robe really is. Damn. I accept my earlier sentiment: I’m an idiot.
***
The guys and I finished setting up the white wooden chairs as per the sketched diagram Reggie had given Jordan and thankfully there wasn’t much left because the music began. Jordan makes his way to the front, standing next to the minister. Standing up there with him is his best friend and old band manager, Jeremy, and Vic. The rest of the band was already seated near the back, which is where I planted my ass as well.
A cute little blond-haired girl in a fluffy white dress walks next to Micah, Reggie and Jordan’s son. The little girl tosses white rose petals like she’s done this several times. Her smile lights up her squishy face.
Next, Jemma makes her way down the aisle, followed by Stacey, and I nearly choke. She’s wearing a dark plum floor-length gown with a sweetheart neckline. Her shoulders and back are bare and the way her hair falls over her shoulder takes my breath away. When her eyes find mine, her lips form a shy smile. The wedding march music begins, and everyone stands and turns to face Reggie as she makes her way down the aisle escorted by her father. While all eyes are on the bride, mine find the redheaded beauty up front standing next to the minister. She’s stunning, and just like last week when we went dancing, I find myself curious. What would it be like to let myself feel something for her? For anyone?
The ceremony goes off without a hitch, the happy couple jogs down the aisle and heads toward the side of the house for pictures. What feels like hours later and after the tables have been set up for the reception, a pair of milky white arms snake around me from behind and close me in a warm embrace.
“Thank you so much for coming,” Stacey says, releasing me from the hug.
<
br /> I turn toward her and am struck by the realization that she’s leaving for Phoenix tomorrow and it’s likely I’ll never see her again. It’s no use worrying about it, as nothing can come out of this anyway. Instead, we enjoy the reception, eat a great dinner, and watch as Jordan and Reggie take their first dance as husband and wife. After the father-daughter dance, the DJ calls the wedding party out onto the floor. Stacey joins Jeremy, and even though he’s married and expecting a baby in a few months, my chest tightens seeing Stacey’s arms wrapped around another man’s neck.
By the time other couples join the wedding party on the floor, I find myself walking toward the fiery redhead and asking her to dance. I tap the smooth, warm skin of Stacey’s shoulder and she pulls away from Jeremy, who tips his head and walks back to his bride.
“My turn,” I say, sliding my fingers down her arm and catching her hand in mine before spinning her around to face me. I pull her close, pulling a sharp intake of breath from her painted on lips, and erase the air between us and guide her along the floor.
“You said you couldn’t dance,” she says rather breathlessly.
My lips turn up in a lopsided smile as I hold her even tighter. “You asked if I danced,” I whisper above her ear. “I never said I couldn’t.” And to prove it, I push her away from me, hold onto her left hand, and then spin her around until her back is resting against my chest. Her ass is rubbing against the front of my dress pants as I move us around the dance floor and I’m literally thinking of anything accept how good it feels to have her body so close to mine. Quickly spinning her around to face me, hoping to avoid the growing situation in my pants, I rest my left hand at the base of her neck and my right clasps her hand. Space. My body needs space between us…now. Otherwise I might do something I’m likely going to regret later.
After several dances, we return to our seats to grab some water. At this point, I’m ready for a long, cold shower for multiple reasons.
“Well, count me impressed, Mr. Officer,” Stacey says as she glances at me from beneath her long lashes. Her cheeks are flushed from dancing and I’m wondering if she’s feeling any of what I am. It’s been…five…long…years since Marley passed away, and I’d be a fool if I didn’t recognize the stirrings within myself for what they are. Stacey’s a beautiful woman and I’m still a man. And that’s all this is—want—the desire for a release I won’t allow myself to have.
Chapter 5
September
Stacey
My landlord has finally agreed to let me out of my lease, which means I’m scouting grocery stores for boxes to pack up my apartment. I’m twenty-seven and I’m ready to see where life takes me. And right now, the compass is pointing north toward Washington.
If there is one thing I’ve learned since moving out on my own, it’s that I miss my best friend, and living so far away from her really sucks. After her wedding and on the flight home, I cried not because I was sad to go, but because I couldn’t tell you the next time I would see her. That right there will always be the death of a friendship, and I’m not willing to bury thirteen years of history.
My parents and my brother, James, will be here in an hour to load up the U-Haul truck I’ve rented and to help drive my car onto the trailer. James offered to drive up with me, but that would mean he’d have to take time off of work, and he’s barely scraping by as it is. So, instead, I’ve promised to drive at least ten miles under the speed limit and to take frequent breaks. Dad has also asked that I not pull into any parking lot where backing the truck and trailer up is required. He says I don’t have enough experience with that sort of thing. Even though I laughed him off, he’s right.
A knock on my door signals the arrival of my family and the realization of moving fifteen hundred miles away from them. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited to start fresh, but sad knowing I’ll be so far away from them.
James stands with his hands in the pockets of his tan cargo shorts wearing a halfhearted grin on his handsome face. He’s two years older than me and an amazing guy, but is somehow still single. Mom and Dad stand behind him wearing similar expressions and it hits me: they’re going to miss me just as much as I will them. Mom pushes past James and Dad and wraps her slender arms around me. Her strawberry blond hair tickles my cheeks as she quietly sobs on my shoulder.
“We’ll get to work,” Dad says, patting my arm as he passes by.
James quirks a brow and follows Dad into my bedroom where I hear the whirring sounds of power tools. I won’t even be able to sleep here tonight, which would be upsetting to some. But for me? Not so much. I can tell you I will not be missing the smell of pot wafting through my living room.
By the time all the large furniture is loaded into the U-Haul, Mom and I have finished packing all the small things into boxes. Truthfully, I don’t have much, but what I have I love. Pieces gathered here and there at random thrift stores make up my home and I can’t wait to find some place in Washington to make my own.
It’s after six when we finish loading up the U-Haul and Dad drives my car onto the car trailer. I’ve never towed anything behind me—or driven a truck like this before—but I’m doing all I can to act like a twenty-seven-year-old and man up…or woman up in this case. I’ve given myself several pep talks over the last few days and I think I’m ready for this two-day trip.
“I’ll drive the truck over to the house after we’ve eaten dinner,” Dad volunteers.
We all agree and climb inside Mom’s SUV and stop at our favorite pizza place. James and I pile out of the backseats. Mom and Dad follow us inside and I’m hit with the warm scents of pizza dough, tomato sauce, and fresh herbs. I love this place and secretly hope I can find a place just as good up in Washington. Once we’ve taken our seats at a table and ordered our food, the conversation quickly turns to my upcoming drive.
“You have your route all mapped out?” Dad asks over the top of his wire-framed glasses. He’s a little old-fashioned and still reverts to paper maps when traveling.
“My phone has GPS, remember?”
Dad harrumphs, removes his glasses, and cleans them with the hem of his t-shirt. “Well, just in case reception is poor, I put a United States map in the glove compartment. I highlighted the most direct route and included the best cities to stop overnight.”
Sometimes I don’t think my parents realize I’m an adult and have been one for a decade.
“Thank you, Dad.”
“Now, honey,” Mom starts. “Do you have your phone charger for the car? I’d hate for you to run out of batteries. You know how I’m going to worry.”
“Yes, Mom. My car charger is in my purse.” Mental note: check for car charger. “Anything you’d like to add, James?”
He smiles, slides his arm over my chair, and pulls me in for a one-armed hug. He and I aren’t terribly close, but we’re friends and I’m going to miss him. We fought like cats and dogs as teenagers, but after I moved in with Reggie, we started hanging out occasionally.
“Nope, I got nothin’,” he says, then proceeds to ruffle my hair with his beastly hands. I swat him away and he continues. “Actually, just make sure you call or send a text every once in a while so we all know you’re doing okay.”
“All right, map, car charger, and the occasional text. Anything else?” I ask, counting the short list off on my fingers.
Dad scratches at the back of his chestnut-colored hair, Mom gazes at me with glossy eyes, and James focuses on some game on his cell.
The pizza is delicious, of course, and after we go back to my apartment for one last look around, Dad climbs in the U-Haul and drives it to his and Mom’s house. James and I follow in his car and Mom drives behind us. We’re our own little caravan, something I can’t imagine will ever happen again.
When I visited Reggie in July, I couldn’t help but fall a little in love with the area. Warner, while considerably smaller than Phoenix, has a gothic charm. Old brick churches, even some with stone gargoyles on the steeples, are all over the sprawling city. I
loved the river flowing through the center of the city and the friendliness of the people. And as an added bonus, the temperature never went over a hundred and five in the middle of July. Sometimes we top that in early May in Phoenix. Goodbye, stifling heat and sweaty knees.
My old room in my parents’ house has long since been converted into a nice guest room with a sewing table for Mom’s projects. There isn’t a trace that I ever once lived here in this room. The full-size bed is adorned with a pink, shabby chic ruffled bedspread and white sheets with delicate roses. The white dresser looks like it’s been rolled down the street a few times to reach that perfect aged quality. Even the curtains have ruffles.
I say good night to everyone and give James an extra long hug knowing he won’t be here in the morning to see me off. He’s roughly six inches taller than me and somehow got Dad’s chestnut hair. I ended up with the bright red, almost orange hair that was the source of constant teasing in grade school. The teasing stopped in the fifth grade when my boobs showed up earlier than most of the other girls. After that, I used what I had to gather a different kind of attention. The wrong kind of attention I realized after graduating high school. I did a lot of growing up after Reggie found out she was pregnant and her parents kicked her out.
Goodbye, memories. Hello, new life.
In the morning, Mom and Dad greet me in the kitchen with a hot breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, and buttermilk pancakes. Mom’s pancakes are simply amazing, better than any restaurant I’ve ever eaten in. She’s taught me a lot over the years, but never how to make her pancakes.
“Mom?”
She glances up at me after taking a bite of eggs.
“Can I have your recipe for these pancakes?”
Her fork slips from her fingers and lands on her plate with a clatter. Mom’s cheeks warm with a healthy blush and she looks to Dad, who is pressing his lips tightly together, obviously holding back a laugh.
