by Sam Mariano
And look where that got me.
The guests file out of their pews behind us while the photographer snaps shots of Bethany and Alex in the other room. Mini bottles of bubbles are passed out and the room fills up so everyone is crowded. I’m already feeling a little claustrophobic with all the people in this cramped space, then I feel a hand on my arm. I turn around like a deer caught in headlights, but it’s only Henry.
“Hey, you.”
With a breathless, uneasy laugh, I do an unsubtle check behind him to make sure Derek isn’t right there with him. Seeing he isn’t, I look up at Henry. “Hey. What are you doing here? I told you not to come.”
His eyebrows rise at my clumsy wording. “Did you? I seem to recall you telling me I didn’t have to come.”
I roll my eyes in an attempt at dismissing my phrasing. “You know what I meant.”
“I expect a writer to be more careful about her lingual choices,” he teases, placing a hand on my waist and glancing past me, over where Alex and Bethany are.
“I am not a writer,” I mutter.
“We’re going to agree to disagree about that, remember?” Pulling me in that direction, he says, “Why don’t you introduce me to your dad?”
I dig my heels into the ground and shake my head. “Not right now. They’re busy. Just wave.” I demonstrate this behavior, in case he doesn’t know how to wave, apparently. Only once Alex’s gaze locks on a tall, handsome man beside me, he shoves the camera out of his face and crosses the room. Bethany tags along, peering curiously to see what’s so interesting.
Dammit.
Alex stops in front of me, holding a hand out. “The boyfriend, I presume?”
Since apparently this is happening whether I want it to or not, I say, “Yes, this is Henry. Henry, this is my dad, Alex.”
“Glad to see you could make it,” Alex says mildly as he shakes Henry’s hand.
“Well, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I missed my girlfriend’s father’s wedding?” Henry asks congenially.
“A pretty shitty one,” Alex states, without humor.
Widening my eyes at him in warning, I say, “Don’t you have pictures to take?”
“I’ve had so many fucking pictures taken today, I better see my face on the cover of Rolling Stone.”
Bethany sidles up next to him and thrusts her hand at Henry, grinning. “Hi! I’m Bethany, Nicole’s new step-mom.”
Henry’s eyebrows rise, raking over Bethany briefly. If he’s surprised my dad bagged a hot wife just barely older than me, it is probably my fault for never telling him much about my dad.
Checking over my shoulder, I search the sea of faces for Derek. Seeing no sign of him, I hope like hell he had the decency to sneak out. Then again, Derek and decency are not two words that show up in the same sentence together often, so probably not.
As much as I do not want to think about him, my fool mind keeps dragging me in that direction. Here I am at Alex’s wedding introducing him to my boyfriend for the first time ever, and I’m wondering where Derek is.
This is just like him, isn’t it?
I need to get him out of here. I need to get my shit together, face that fact that part of me is flattered he’s here, part of me is excited, and that is the same stupid part that needed to be eradicated. I learned my lessons years ago, and I will be damned if I invite him to teach me more.
Derek made choices that I cannot live with. He created a life I don’t want to live with him, and that is why I left. It doesn’t matter how many years have passed, it doesn’t matter how nice he looks in that suit, it doesn’t matter what surface-level changes Derek has made; the fact of the matter is he messed up in a way I will not forgive, and I cannot forget. I was willing to do that for him once, for us, so we could move past the mistakes we both made and still have a future together. I spent years lying awake in my bed, imagining the life we could have had. Imagining all the things I was missing out on because the only person who had ever made me feel was the worst person in the world to entrust with my heart.
I should have known. I should have known from the way he came into my life, but I was young and inexperienced in every way that mattered.
I am an adult woman now. I am not the foolish girl he got his claws into.
I am capable of facing down Derek Noble now. I’m going to go find him and tell him to go fuck himself, that’s what I’m going to do.
For the first time since I saw him standing in the church, I feel like I can breathe again. I feel the control coming back to me. My initial reaction was the reaction of the girl he left things off with, but I am not her anymore. I did a hell of a lot of work to make sure I wasn’t, I built myself a great new life, and that asshole is not going to blow it all up on a whim. I don’t even know why he wants to, but it doesn’t matter.
Embracing my anger, I turn to Henry, rub his arm, and tell him, “I need to go deal with something. Just a minor thing. Can you—”
“What are you talking about?” Bethany asks, eyes wide. “It’s time to send us off. You can’t go deal with something right now. It’s time to go to the reception.”
Since I can’t very well tell her I have just built myself a big, brave platform to stand on so I can keep my head above water even though hurricane Derek has come back into my life, I guess it will have to wait. First, I will do what a dutiful daughter should do at this wedding, then I will find Derek and send him back to the past where he belongs.
Chapter Six
Cocktail hour.
Ordinarily, the fact that Henry is with me would bring out responsible Nicole, but responsible Nicole has a lot on her plate right now, and frankly, making sure Nikki doesn’t convince her to finally have sex with her hot lawyer boyfriend is not on that list.
In fact, in this second half of cocktail hour, as I down my fourth drink, I’m looking at Henry in his sharp suit and wondering why I am not hitting that. I decide to go get some more alcohol and keep it coming, ensuring I will still feel this way when I leave tonight.
Leaning over the bar with a happy sigh, I put down my empty glass and smile dreamily at the bartender. “More please.”
He cocks an eyebrow, looking at my lean. “Did you pre-game, or what?”
“I’m a lightweight,” I inform him. “I also never drink. I’m the sluttiest drunk in the world and I like to try to suppress my myriad of horrifying genetic predispositions. It’s a big job and I can’t do it when I drink, because drinking relaxes me and I forget why I care so much. I have to walk around with a stick up my ass a lot of the time. You have no idea.”
Bartender smirks, reaching behind him to grab a bottle of liquor. “That’s no way to live. Pull out that stick and let your freak flag fly.”
“Right?” I say enthusiastically. “I keep telling myself I need to keep from ever making such a horrifyingly bad decision as I made before, or my mom made, or… every woman besides Bethany who has ever been with my dad has made, but you know what? At the cost of never having fun? Fuck that.”
“Hell yeah,” he agrees, sliding my drink across the bar top.
Leaning over more, I inexplicably reach out and touch his arm. “Can I see your tattoo? I like those a lot.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Mm hmm. Tattoos are really sexy. Is that Captain America’s shield?”
“It is. You a Marvel girl?”
“All superheroes are bullshit. People suck. No one would sacrifice their whole life to run around saving people all the time.”
Nodding and leaning across the bar, he says, “You’ve got a point there. How about this? Just for you, I’ll have my next tattoo say ‘humanity sucks.’”
Eyes widening, I nod my vigorous approval. “Yes. You should. Then send me a picture.”
“Sure,” he says easily. “Give me your number.”
“Got a pen?” I ask.
“Nope. Got a phone though,” he says, pulling it out of his pocket.
Before the hot bartender can give me his phone, a mascu
line hand picks up my glass. “All right, that’s enough of that.”
I gasp, looking up to see who is ruining my fun. I expect to see Henry, but it’s Derek. Narrowing my eyes, I point at him. “You.”
“Yep, me. You have a boyfriend, and if you’re gonna get slutty and cheat on him with somebody, it’s gonna be me.”
“I will never cheat on anyone with you.”
“Again,” Derek adds, casually.
“Ugh. I was young and stupid and drunk.”
“And you’re definitely not drunk now,” he replies, shooting the bartender a dirty look before grabbing my arm and dragging me away.
“Let go of me,” I object. “That guy’s gonna get a tattoo for me. I want him to send me a picture.”
“That guy is not gonna get a fucking tattoo for you,” he says, continuing to drag me along.
“Bet you wouldn’t get a tattoo for me,” I tell him, carried away by drunk Nikki to a land of hot bartenders and their sexy tattoos.
“No?” Derek asks, turning back to look at me. “You don’t think I would?”
“I don’t want to talk to you anymore,” I tell him. “I did earlier, but I don’t now. I want to have fun and move on with my life, and talking to you is the opposite of all that.”
“Talking to me can’t be fun?” he asks.
“No, it can’t, because you split my heart into a hundred million pieces, and every time I look at your stupid face, I remember that. Looking at you is like giving someone a knife, ripping open my chest, and begging them to plunge the blade in as hard and fast as they can until I die.”
He doesn’t speak for a moment, then he says, “Wow. I really want to believe that’s the alcohol talking, but alcohol makes you honest, so…”
“If you don’t know you broke my heart, you’re a fucking idiot,” I tell him. Then, angry, I reach out and shove him in the chest. “I forgave you for everything. I broke every rule I had for you, Derek. I became a person I couldn’t respect for you. I was willing to give up everything just to have you, and even after all that sacrifice, you threw it in my fucking face. Leaving you was the first good decision I ever made in my whole life, and you know what? I have made a lot of good decisions since. And I’ve made bad decisions too, and all those bad decisions? They’re because of you. I live my life terrified to give my heart away, because when I gave it to you, you broke everything. You broke my heart. You broke my dreams. You broke the life I wanted, and I had to start over from scratch. You are the single worst thing that has ever happened to me.” I don’t realize I’m crying until the tears blur my vision, then I blink and a warm tear slides down my cheek.
Regret already transformed his features, but when he sees my tears, his eyes darken even more. “Nikki… I can’t tell you how sorry I am for… for all of that.”
“I don’t need you to be sorry,” I tell him, wiping the tears away. “I need you to go away. I need you to travel back in time to the moment you decided to fuck me over and decide to go home instead. I don’t want your apology, Derek, I want to erase you from my memory.”
He stands there, looking a little stunned, but I have nothing more to say to him, and in my currently less than sober state, there’s nothing he can say that I want to hear. I reach out and take my drink from his hand, then I turn around and go to find Henry.
Now that I am already tipsy, I wonder why I don’t drink all the time. For the first time in years, I feel liberated, and I don’t know if it’s because I told off Derek or because alcohol numbs the pain. God, alcohol is the greatest. Moments ago I was standing in front of my soulmate telling him to fuck off, tears trailing down my face, and I can’t feel it.
Wait, not soulmate. No. Fuck Derek. That wasn’t the word I meant.
Whatever. It doesn’t matter.
I sigh happily, tipping back my drink. I’m going to drink it faster. I’m going to get so drunk. It’s gonna be amazing.
I forget I’m looking for Henry, but the cocktail hour is in the reception hall, and the band is setting up already. I want to dance! I can’t dance, because Alex and Bethany have to do theirs first. I need to find someone to dance with.
Henry!
Oh, yes. I want to see Henry more than anything. Handsome, wonderful, safe Henry. He’s funny and smart and sexy. I doubt he has any tattoos, but that’s okay.
I find him talking to Alex with his back facing me, so I take advantage to sneak up on him, wrap my arms around his waist and hug him from behind.
“There’s my handsome boyfriend.”
Henry stiffens, grabbing the drink I’m about to slosh all over him, then lifts his arm to turn and look, as if he needs to make sure that’s me behind him.
“Nicole?”
I keep my arms around him, sliding around front, then I wind my arms around his neck, pull myself up on my tiptoes, and kiss the hell out of him.
He clearly does not know how to process what is happening, but he attempts to go with it, sliding his free arm around my waist and kissing me back.
I don’t feel anything, but that’s okay. I wonder if I would feel anything kissing the bartender. He seems exciting. Like the kind of guy who would take a wrecking ball to my heart if I ever let him, but I definitely would not do that.
I wonder if I would still feel fireworks kissing Derek?
Probably not. Probably only dumbass 18-year-olds feel fireworks from kissing. I’m too old for it now, that’s all it is.
Doesn’t matter. This is fine. Better than fine. Guys without the ability to set you on fire with their kisses can’t incinerate your heart.
I break away from Henry’s mouth and grab my drink, tipping it back until it’s empty. “I need another one of these, but I don’t want to accidentally flirt with the bartender again. Will you come with me?”
Henry blinks. “Again? As in, you flirted with him a first time?”
I should probably feel worse about that, but I’m super casual. “Yep. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. He almost got a tattoo for me. I need someone to keep me in hand when I’m drinking. I tried to explain. I think I have alcoholism in my blood. But I also think I should start drinking more, because I feel so good right now.”
Alex interrupts, grabbing my arm and pulling me away from Henry, steadying his hands on my shoulders and staring at me like I’m a stranger. “What the hell is happening to you right now?”
“This is Nikki,” I inform him, stumbling while standing still. “She’s a fucking idiot with feelings, so many feelings, and alcohol brings her right out.”
“Have you been crying?” Alex demands, scowling at my face.
“No! Oh, yes. Briefly. I forgot. I’m better now. I just need someone to babysit me so I can get another drink, because I am not currently capable of adulting.”
I’m spinning out of control and loving it, but Alex has probably been through this himself enough times to know he needs to stop me. “You need water.” Looking past me at Henry, he says, “Go get her water.”
“No, I don’t want water,” I complain. “I want to feel good.”
“Trust me, kiddo, alcohol is not the answer.”
Uncaring of absolutely everything, I inform Alex, “You know what? I think I should go home with the bartender. Or, like, to a supply closet with him. I don’t even have to go all the way home. I’m not all about spending the night. That’s how you catch feelings.”
“Oh, my God, is this what life with me was like? I am so sorry.”
I point in the direction of the bar. “No, but look how hot he is. He’s way hotter than most guys. Plus, he gives me alcohol. And he has tattoos.”
“Who has tattoos?” Bethany asks, coming over to see what’s causing all the commotion.
“The hot bartender. I think I should have wild, passionate sex with him right now.”
“Get it, girl. I’ll hold down the bar while you’re gone.”
“No,” Alex says, widening his eyes at Bethany. “She has the stupid lawyer boyfriend, remember?”
�
��Oh, right,” Bethany says. Then she asks brightly, “Need me to distract him while you sneak off with the bartender?”
I burst into a fit of giggles. “I love you, Bethany.”
“Why are you encouraging her?” Alex asks.
“Because if she wants to bang the bartender, the lawyer clearly is not getting it done, if you get my meaning. She’s 24-years-old, for fuck’s sake, I’m not going to let her settle. I want good things for my stepdaughter, not stodgy assholes who almost skip my wedding. Let my girl live her life. Jesus, Alex, did our wedding vows turn you into a prude?”
“She’s drunk off her ass, Bethany. She is in no position to make these kinds of decisions,” Alex states.
Prying his hands off me, she slides an arm around my shoulder and prepares to guide me away. “Nicole doesn’t need anyone telling her what’s right for her own life. If she wants to bang the bartender, I say, what the hell? Bang the bartender. He’s hot. She’s only going to be young once.”
“I don’t feel anything when I kiss Henry,” I inform her, since she is clearly my people. “Like, nothing.”
“No arousal?” she asks sympathetically.
“Oh, God,” Alex says, grimacing and finally walking away, leaving us to our own devices.
“None,” I tell Bethany. “I want him to be… bossy. You know? I want him to tell me what to do. I want him to take control. I wanna be stimulated, Bethany.”
“Oh, honey.” She pats my shoulder reassuringly, walking over to the bar. “Hey, Romeo.”
The hot bartender turns around, giving Bethany a once-over, then looking at me. “Back so soon?” he asks me.
“My stepdaughter thinks you’re hot,” Bethany states.
His dark eyebrows rise. “And who is your stepdaughter?”
She points at me.
His eyebrows rise even higher. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“Nope, we’re a wet dream come true. Are you a dominant fuck?”
His jaw drops open as Bethany asks that, and he clears his throat. “Uh… wow, you are direct.”
“My stepdaughter here needs someone to show her a good time. I’m talking two orgasms, minimum. Men need itches scratched, they get it done. Girl power and all that shit. Are you qualified to get the job done?”
