He looked to her. “Should we go in and take our seats?”
Olivia opened her mouth to agree but then thought twice. Jessie wasn’t her friend anymore, and neither was Camille. They might’ve all been willing to pretend for a year but going in there now and pretending to support this union that she didn’t believe would last a year made her feel like a hypocrite of the worst order.
She shook her head. “I don’t think anyone would miss us if we slipped out early, do you?”
Avery and Drew gaped at her. “Before the wedding?” Avery clarified.
Olivia nodded and Drew grinned at her, taking her hand and leading her toward the exit as Avery called out after them. “We’re sharing a room, remember. Try and wrap things up by the time the reception lets out?”
Drew raised a hand in acknowledgment but neither of them turned back. They were walking so quickly they were nearly running to catch a taxi back to the hotel.
It wasn’t until later—much later—that they stopped kissing long enough to talk.
“No regrets?” Drew asked, his naked body wrapped around hers as he spooned her.
“About leaving the wedding?” she said. “Not a one.”
He dropped a kiss on her shoulder, his voice laced with amusement. “I meant about us.” He squeezed her tighter. “About this.”
She turned her head so she could see him. “No regrets. And I’m not even scared anymore because we’re in this together, right?”
He leaned forward to drop a gentle kiss on her lips. “Always.”
Epilogue
Livvy turned to face him, her lips puckered and her hands on her hips after taping up the last of her boxes. Her apartment was officially packed. “This is crazy, right? I mean, what we’re doing is ludicrous, isn’t it?”
He moved forward and pulled her into his arms. They’d been through this a million times. “It’s not the sanest thing we’ve ever done.”
Her worry melted and he was rewarded with a sweet smile. “But it’s the right decision?” When he didn’t answer immediately she smacked his arm. “Come on, reassure me just once more.”
He refused to tell her one more time that she’d made the right call. “Would you rather move to Louisiana for law school?”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course not.” Shortly after they’d returned to NYC after the wedding they didn’t attend, Livvy had informed her parents that she wouldn’t be attending law school in the fall. They weren’t happy about it and they were even less pleased with her new plan.
Her eyes grew big as she took a deep, steadying breath. “But Japan? For a year?” Her expression was a mix of excitement and terror at the idea. “I think this might be the craziest thing I’ve ever done.”
He grinned. Packing up and moving to Japan for a year while she taught English and he worked on his music was absolutely the craziest thing he’d ever done but right now one of them needed to keep it together and it looked like it was his turn. “We got this,” he said, squeezing her shoulders like a coach. “I’ll be there with you the whole time, remember?”
She nodded. “And you’re sure?”
It was his turn to roll his eyes. They’d been over this a million times. After his drummer quit, their bassist had informed them that he was moving for his wife’s job. Half his band was gone, so that wasn’t keeping him here anymore. And while he liked his job, it was almost too comfortable. He could see himself being there years from now, in the same position, playing for the same crowd. “I can write music anywhere, remember? And traveling the world sounds like pretty great inspiration.”
She let out a long breath and her shoulders relaxed under his touch. “It does, doesn’t it?”
After many long discussions about what she would do with her future, it became clear that the only thing Livvy was certain she wanted—aside from him, of course—was to see the world. So they’d started looking into ways they could feasibly do that while also making money. She’d gotten a job as an English teacher and that had settled it. He could find freelance gigs working remotely—he’d been doing that on the side anyway—so they could make this work.
The plan was to save up their money and once her year contract was up, they would travel around Southeast Asia. Avery was even toying with the idea of meeting up with them during their travels next summer. She’d finally come out to Kimmie, but sadly her love story hadn’t ended so happily. She’d dealt with Kimmie’s rejection better than he’d expected, saying that knowing was better than living in limbo. Now she could move on.
Apparently Kimmie had offered to be her wingwoman at gay bars and Avery had taken her up on it. Maybe Avery would succeed where he had failed and be able to maintain her friendship while getting over her crush.
If not, he and Livvy would be there for moral support if she needed to get some distance.
Livvy smiled up at him in his arms. “We’re really doing this,” she said.
He was happy to hear more excitement than terror in her tone this time.
“We’re really doing this,” he confirmed. “Oh, and I got you a going-away present.”
Her nose crinkled up as she laughed. “A present? But I didn’t get you anything and—”
He shoved the poorly wrapped box into her hand before she could protest any further. “Just open.”
When she saw the used, but good quality camera, inside her eyes filled up with tears. “I love it.”
He smiled as she wrapped her arms around him so tight it was hard to breathe. “You should have seen the way your eyes lit up when you first told me you wanted to be a travel photographer.”
“And you remembered,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest.
“Of course.”
She lifted her head and grinned at him. “Of course you did. That’s why you’re the best best friend in the world.”
He raised one brow teasingly. “And?”
She laughed, giving his jaw a quick kiss. “And the best boyfriend.”
He grinned. “Damn straight.”
Thank you for reading The Plus One! If you enjoyed it, reviews are always greatly appreciated. Keep reading for the second book of the series, Love Times Two.
Love Times Two
Starting from Zero
Prologue
Mark and the rest of the bar staff watched in varying degrees of horror and amusement as the wasted brunette belted out “Purple Rain” in the middle of the makeshift dance floor, surrounded by a handful of her giggling friends.
“How much do you want to bet that She-Prince over there tosses her cookies all over the bar tonight,” the waitress Melody mused.
“Dude, I am not cleaning that up.” The barback shouted to be heard over the drunk chick’s wailing but Mark couldn’t tear his eyes away. Sure she was making a massacre of a Prince song, but she was still freakin’ hot.
The barback came behind the bar for a better view of the spectacle. “You need to kick her and her friends out of here before they go from annoying drunk to messy drunk.”
“At least she’s not crying anymore,” Melody pointed out.
They all nodded in agreement at that. There was nothing worse than a crying drunk and this poor lightweight had been a weepy mess for the first hour after she’d arrived. That was before she’d discovered the jukebox.
“Seriously, man, cut her off.” The barback moved away to clear off some empty glasses.
“She’s only had two drinks,” Mark called after him. But he did cut her off. The drunk hottie and her friends, for good measure. It was a relief to ignore them since the bar filled up with a late crowd that had him hustling all night.
Despite the ban on liquor, she never left. He would catch sight of her, dancing in the midst of a crowd or crying on a friend’s shoulder at the end of the bar. And then, hours later, the weepy cutie was his last customer of the night. She was slumped over the bar, her cheek resting on the wood. Shit. Was she asleep?
But then he heard her murmur, “Gonna die alone,” for what
must have been the tenth time that night. Nope, not asleep. Her hand was slowly reaching out for the half-full glass of whiskey next to her head. Where the hell had she gotten that?
“Oh no you don’t.” Mark hurried over and moved it out of reach, ignoring her moan of complaint.
“One more sip.” She lifted her head then and those eyes were a punch in the gut.
Before he could tell her yet again that she’d been cut off, the drunken beauty swung her head from left to right and back again, her dark curls bouncing around her pixie features which were crinkled up in confusion. “Where are my friends?”
He didn’t even try to disguise his annoyance. Some friends. “They left an hour ago, remember?” They’d been all too happy to help this little slip of a woman get wasted—in record time, he might add—but one by one they’d peeled off, making their excuses and giving their poor, weepy friend hugs on their way out the door.
So now, he was stuck with her.
In any other circumstances he’d be ecstatic to find himself alone in the bar with a hot, single woman. He figured ‘single’ was a fair assessment given her mantra of the evening. But one who alternated between weeping uncontrollably and singing along to the jukebox, loudly and off-key—there was nothing even remotely sexy about this scenario.
Apparently just now realizing that she was all alone, she turned to him with those big blue eyes and her lower lip so firmly jutted out, she looked like a little kid. “I’m gonna die alone,” she said again, this time with a trembling lower lip, as another round of tears welled up in her eyes.
“You’re not going to die alone.” Despite himself, he couldn’t help but laugh. She was so…pathetic. But so adorable. For the millionth time he cursed her flaky friends who’d left her for him to take care of. They didn’t know him from Adam, what if he was a player with no scruples? What if he was something far, far worse?
“You don’t know that,” she was saying now, shaking her head back and forth before dropping it back down onto the bar, burying her face in her arms.
“Hey, whatever it is, it’s not that bad. You’ll feel better in the morning, I promise.” He paused before adding, “Well, not tomorrow morning. You’ll probably feel like hell tomorrow morning. But the next day. You’ll definitely feel better about everything then.”
She didn’t stir.
Mark sighed as he cleared off the rest of the glasses from the bar. “Come on, miss, why don’t you tell me where you live and I’ll call you a cab.”
When she still didn’t answer, he came back and gently shook her shoulder.
Her only response was a snore.
Chapter One
Long after the last student left her classroom, Elizabeth sat staring at her phone. She had the nagging feeling that today’s date was significant but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Was it Mom or Dad’s birthday? No. Those were months off. She mentally ran through her best friends’ birthdays and the birthdays of their kids. Nope.
Was it Jason’s birthday? Just thinking of her cheating ex made her nauseous. No. Not his birthday either. And not their anniversary, thank God. She was just starting to recover from the epic hangover she’d gotten from their breakup two weeks before. Her liver would never survive their anniversary.
The memory of that next morning, waking up in a stranger’s bed, head aching, mouth reeking, eyes swollen. It was like a bad dream she couldn’t shake. The horrible guilt and shame as she slinked off, tiptoeing out of the studio apartment to keep from waking the hot bartender who was sprawled half naked next to her in the bed.
Ugh. Don’t go there. That morning is a distant memory that will be locked away until the end of time. There was clearly a reason her memory had a convenient black hole where that night should have been. But everyone had their bad nights, right? So what if hers happened to be an epic doozy of a bad night—it was all in the past.
Squinting at the calendar on her phone, Elizabeth racked her brain. It would come to her. She just needed a minute.
A text popped up from her twin sister, Connie. “Be here by six for the interview.”
The interview. Oh crap. Crappity crap crap, crap on a stick. This was not good.
The bottom of her stomach gave way and she sucked in air so quickly she thought she might hyperventilate. It was with shaky fingers that she dialed her sister. This was not how she’d wanted to tell her family the wedding was off. Not that she wanted to tell them at all. Especially not Connie.
That’s what happen when you procrastinate, her inner schoolmarm chastised.
Shut up.
“Please don’t tell me you’re running late,” Connie answered. “You know how important this feature is to me.”
Oh yes, she knew. Everyone knew. When Connie first came up with the idea of a double wedding, Elizabeth had been on board. After all, her sister loved planning events and it would save herself and Jason some money if all the costs were split between the two couples.
Connie had been in event planning heaven ever since. During what must have been a taffeta-induced high, Connie managed to sell the fact that they were twins having a double wedding to a national bridal magazine. Once news spread, this publicity opened all kinds of doors, it had gotten them the venue of Connie’s dream and a celebrity caterer—well, the closest thing to a celebrity caterer one could find in their small town. All because they were the adorable double-trouble twins. They actually weren’t identical in any way, but still…America loved weddings and a twins’ double wedding was ‘double the pleasure, double the fun.’
Except that one of the twins walked in on her fiancé having sex with her former friend.
Somehow Elizabeth doubted that was the story American Bride wanted to hear.
“Listen, Con, I uh…I can’t do the interview.”
The silence at the other end of the line was deafening. Elizabeth cringed as she waited for her sister’s response.
“Excuse me?”
That was it. So typically Connie. Ice dripped from the words and Elizabeth found herself twirling her hair around her finger like one of the teens she taught.
“Um, see, the thing is….Jason and I. We called off the wedding.”
Silence.
Dammit. Why hadn’t she told her sister sooner? Maybe because she was afraid of this.
“Why?”
Elizabeth drew in a deep breath before finally wussing out. “I don’t want to talk about it.” And she didn’t. She really didn’t. Especially not with Connie, who had never liked Jason. The thought of hearing an ‘I told you so’ right now was more than she could bear.
Fortunately Elizabeth hadn’t expected sympathy, because she certainly didn’t get it. “Fine. Don’t talk about it but you are not backing out of this interview.”
“But—”
She could practically see her sister’s scowl as she cut her off. “Listen to me, Lizzie. I have planned our dream wedding and you will not ruin this for me. I’m sure this is just cold feet and you and Jason will make up eventually. And when you do, you will thank me for holding this wedding together.”
No, she wanted to scream. This is not cold feet! This is a penis in another woman’s vagina. This would not be patched up with a bouquet of flowers and a good talk.
But she didn’t say any of that. She just flapped her mouth in a vague attempt to find an excuse. “Jason won’t be there. It’s supposed to be with both couples,” she pointed out.
“Let me handle the interview. You just show up here on time.”
Any further protests were cut off with a dial tone.
* * *
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Mark said as he shoved one arm into a long-sleeved shirt.
His best friend’s voice lowered to the point where he could barely hear him. “Please, man, I’ll owe you.”
“Is this your fiancée’s idea?” He refused to call Connie by her name. Petty, sure, but it was a passive way of protesting his best friend’s colossal mistake of an engagement.
Robbie’s lack of a response was answer enough—this was her idea.
“Why the hell do you need me to take part in an interview?”
Robbie sighed and for one brief moment, Mark took pity on his quiet, kind friend who’d somehow gotten himself involved with a she-devil. “Look, it’s a long story. But we really need someone to pretend to be her sister’s fiancé.”
“What happened to the real fiancé? Did the twin eat him alive?” If Connie’s twin was anything like her, he hoped like hell the poor fiancé had fled the country. If only he could take Robbie with him. Save yourselves!
“Very funny,” Robbie sighed. Mark bit back any more jokes at his friend’s new family’s expense. He could go on for hours about how ridiculous this double wedding had become but it would fall on deaf ears. Besides, as best man he was supposed to be supporting his friend—even though what he really wanted to do was sabotage this Titanic of a marriage.
Mark sighed his surrender. “Fine. But you owe me.”
“Whatever you want,” Robbie agreed with a triumphant grin. Mark watched his friend head toward the door. Probably trying to escape before Mark had a chance to change his mind. Smart man.
Mark called out after him. “My bike is in the shop again. You’re paying for my cab to your house tonight.”
“Done,” Robbie shouted as he headed out the door.
Mark heard the insanity before he saw it.
The door to Robbie and Connie’s home was cracked open so he let himself in. Connie’s harsh voice had him wincing in sympathy for Robbie.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
He heard a soft, female voice respond but he couldn’t make out the words. So it wasn’t Robbie who was in trouble this time, good for him. Must be the sister.
The kitchen was a mass of commotion. Connie, with her perfectly coifed blonde hair, was moving around the room, straightening up an already tidy kitchen. Robbie was putting together a tray of cheese and crackers and the sister—
The Morning After: Starting from Zero Box Set Page 15
