“Wait just a second. Why are you pushing me away now?”
He opened his mouth and closed it. “Does it matter?”
“Yes. Yes it does.” She swallowed past the tears threatening to escape.
His jaw ticked. “I don’t see why it matters. Either way you’re leaving. Either way, you’re too busy to go to my sister’s wedding with me. Either way, we’re done.”
“Oh. My. God.” She leaned against the wall, unable to believe he was doing exactly what he said he wouldn’t do. “That’s what this is about. Me not being able to do some stupid little thing because of my work.”
His head snapped up and he stared at her, nostrils flared and anger spitting out of his eyes. “Excuse me? My sister’s wedding is not little or stupid. It’s important to me.”
“I know.” There she went again, ruining her words with feelings. Damn it. She held her hands out to him, but he stared at them disdainfully. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sorry.”
“But you did.” His shoulders deflated a little bit, but he quickly stood straight. “And, yeah, I am mad. Actually, I’m fucking pissed that you’re going to throw everything we had going for us away without even caring, just like you said you would, as soon as a part came up.”
“You’re the one ruining this.” She pointed a finger at him. “You’re the one being bitter and holding my success against me, just like all the other men. You lied to me. You’re not different.”
He clenched his hands into fists. “Yes. Because me wanting you at my sister’s wedding is so fucking awful?”
“Yes! Why is it so important to you that I go with you? Huh?”
“Because I fucking love you, that’s why!” He turned as if to walk away but then spun back to her, his face red and his eyes blazing. “I fucking love you, like an idiot, and you don’t even want to be with me.”
Morgan didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to feel.
But she knew hearing those words from him sent equal amounts of happiness and fear shooting to her core. She hadn’t wanted this. Hadn’t wanted love. He’d promised not to fall for her, and yet…here they were. “I…”
“Fuck me.” He covered his face with his hands and his voice came out flat. “Don’t say anything. I shouldn’t have said that. I…I didn’t even mean it.”
“That’s just…” fucked up, she added silently. So he went and threw that declaration out there, and he didn’t even mean it? What the hell was he playing at? “You’re right. You shouldn’t have.”
He squared his jaw. “Sorry.”
“I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to get me to give up my dream. To be your wife.” Part of her knew he wasn’t doing that, but he’d hit a trigger. And once it was cocked and loaded, it was hard to turn it off without firing. “You probably only said you loved me to get me to stay and be your personal sex slave. You didn’t even mean it, did you?”
“How could you be so fucking blind? I—” He took a step toward her, his face red, but then stopped. “You know what? You’re absolutely right. I’m a domineering asshole who wants nothing but to see you fail. You should take off the ring and run away, before I drag you down with me to the slums of fucking suburbia. Run off to Chicago.”
She froze, her whole body shaking. She couldn’t breathe. God, why couldn’t she breathe?
Was this what a panic attack felt like? “Maybe I will.”
“Fine.” He stared her down, not a hint of softness in his eyes. Certainly no love. “Go ahead.”
“I will.” With slippery fingers, she took the ring off and threw it at him. He let it drop to his feet, not even bothering to pick it up. That’s how much it meant to him. “Don’t come chasing me, begging me to come back.”
He inclined his head. “I already told you I wouldn’t. As a matter of fact, I’ll leave now. Good luck, Morgan.”
He turned on his heel and walked away from her.
The jerk walked away from her, before she could walk away from him. She watched him go, her fists tight at her sides, aching to chase after him and scream at him and hit him until everything made sense again. Until she knew what was right and what was wrong.
Until the aching hollowness in her chest went away.
Morgan turned around, picked her ring up off the floor and opened the door to their honeymoon suite. It looked so big now. So empty. And it was all his fault. She sank down on the mattress and covered her face. No. It wasn’t all his fault. She’d flown off the handle as soon as he’d expressed hurt over the fact that she’d forgotten his sister’s wedding. Was that really so unforgivable?
She flopped back on the bed and her elbow hit something hard. The TV came to life, and she heard her own voice, slurred and way too sloppy sounding. Unrecognizable, even.
“Marry me,” she slurred into the camera.
Morgan sat up and rubbed her eyes. Oh, no. It was the wedding DVD. Had Mike been watching it before he came to get her? Had he been watching their wedding? Why? And did she always look that stupid when she drank too much?
Mike’s voice ripped her out of her distraction. Just hearing it sent a fist of pain straight through her heart. She hugged her knees to her chest, holding on tight.
“Tell the camera why you asked me to marry you,” a slow speaking Mike said, his mouth an inch from Drunk Morgan’s ear. “Tell the camera who asked who tonight, in case you forget and don’t believe me tomorrow.”
“I asked you because you’ll be the best husband ever. You’ll never hold me down,” Morgan said, grinning sloppily into the camera. “Right?”
“Not unless you want me to,” Mike murmured in her ear.
“Well, I just might, husband. Later tonight.”
“I’m not your husband yet.” Mike grinned and tossed her over his shoulder. “Elvis, marry us before she changes her mind!”
Mike started for the altar but a hand reached out and grabbed his arm. Alistair, presumably. “Dude, are you sure? Why are you doing this?”
Mike turned to him, leaned in close, and whispered, “Because I think I’m gonna fall head over ass in love with this woman, and she’s mine. I love how determined she is to succeed, and I want to watch her grow. Help her.”
Morgan’s breath caught, and she clung to her knees.
Al’s hand dropped out of sight. “I’ll be damned. A girl who out-Mike’d Mike. All right. Then I’m behind you, if you’re sure. And later on, when you watch this video—”
“I’ll be even more happy because by then, I’ll love her and she’ll love me, too.” Mike slapped Drunk Morgan’s ass, making her squeal. How long had she hung there, not speaking or moving? “Right, wife?”
“Right.” Drunk Morgan pointed at the altar. “Now let’s do it.”
Morgan shut off the movie, unable to watch any more of the wedding. The look in Mike’s eyes when he said he might love her someday was the same way he’d looked at her tonight after he’d told her he loved her. Before their fight had ruined it all. Before she could…
Before she could even think about saying I love you, too.
Chapter Thirteen
Mike tightened his bow tie and glowered at himself in the mirror. He’d been moping about since last night, wanting nothing more than to strangle himself for his own stupidity. He’d broken his every rule. Broken everything he ever believed in, and for what? A few nights of marital bliss that would be forever in his past, haunting him?
He’d become everything he hadn’t wanted ever to be.
Now he was at his sister’s wedding and all he could think about was Morgan. Morgan when she laughed. Morgan when she asked him if he’d meant what he said about loving her. Morgan when she told him he was despicable. All of it morphed into one crazy memory until he didn’t know what the hell he was feeling anymore.
Did it even matter?<
br />
Fuck everyone who had found their happily ever after. Who needed fairy tales, anyway? In a few days he would be back to normal. Cruising the bars and hitting on beautiful women with whom he didn’t want a relationship. Women who meant nothing to him.
Right after he managed to remove the wedding ring he still wore.
He clutched his fist tight, the band digging into his fingers.
But not tonight. Not yet. Tonight, he’d play the part of the solo husband. Women would leave him alone because of his ring and he could heal in peace.
Shit, now he really sounded like Oprah.
The door opened and Garrett entered, his cheeks flushed and his eyes sparkling. He looked so happy. Much like Mike had looked on his own wedding night which, thanks to Al, he’d gotten to see. That was right before everything collapsed around him, and directly after he realized he loved Morgan…and then told her how he felt, like the fool he was.
He should’ve kept that information to himself. At least he could’ve kept his pride.
“It’s almost time,” Garrett said, smoothing his tux jacket and grinning at Mike in the mirror. “I can’t believe this is actually happening and she hasn’t run for the hills yet.”
Mike choked back his own misery He wouldn’t miss the joy of such a momentous event. Garrett had been in love with Kiersten since high school. He deserved every happiness. “Me either. I have to admit, when you got her pregnant, I thought you’d fail in winning her heart.”
“For a while, I did too.” Garrett turned to him. “But for some reason, she loves me. And I couldn’t be happier.”
“I know. And I’m happy for you both. I love you, man.”
Mike cleared his throat, overcome by love for a second. Shit, Morgan had made him acknowledge his feelings for Garrett and Kiersten and everyone. He’d gone his whole life without getting choked up about anything, but now here he was, about to slobber and snot all over himself because his best friend was marrying his sister.
Might as well give him a pair of pink heels, that apron Morgan had worn, and stick him in the fucking kitchen. He was done.
“Uh, I love you too, dude?” Garrett eyed him cautiously. “You okay? You’re kind of freaking me out right now.”
Mike snapped himself out of it. “Yeah. I was just picturing how I’d kill you if you ever hurt my sister.”
“Wow.” Garrett tugged at his bowtie, seeming relieved at the change of topic. “Guess I’ll have to not hurt her then, huh?”
Mike clapped him on the shoulder. “Somehow, I think you can manage that. When you love someone, you try to make their life better, not worse.”
That’s why he had set Morgan free. Let her leave angry at him instead of being torn about what she should do. Which was why he’d said he didn’t mean it when he said he loved her. Also why he’d flipped out at her about her work, knowing it would set her off, and he’d tried not to let her know how much he would miss her.
And, damn it, he would miss her a hell of a lot. He already did.
Garrett fiddled with his bowtie again, then dropped his hands at his sides so Mike could help straighten it. “Is Morgan out there?”
“Uh, no.” Mike’s fingers stilled at the mention of her name but he forced himself to keep moving. “We’re kind of done. She got a part in a play that’s going to be touring the country so we figured it was best to call it quits.”
Alistair knocked on the door and poked his head in. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Garrett said without looking away from Mike. “Why did you guys have to split just because she got a role?”
“Were we ever really together?” Mike asked, his voice choked.
“You let her leave? But I thought you were going to fall in love with her.” Alistair nudged Mike, a grin on his face. “Came to your senses once the booze wore off, huh?”
Mike swallowed hard, trying his best to sound casual. “Yeah. Something like that.”
Alistair’s smile slipped. “Oh.”
“You okay?” Garrett grabbed his arm. “If you need to—”
Mike shrugged free. “Stop hitting on me. I’m not your type.”
“Mike,” Garrett said, his tone hard. “I’m being serious here.”
“I know. I’m fine. Enjoy your day.”
Garrett looked at him for a little while longer, then nodded. “All right. But if you need me—”
Mike held his hand up. “You’ll be on your honeymoon, having the type of fun with your wife that I don’t even want to begin to contemplate, since I’m convinced Amy was Immaculate Conception.”
Garrett snorted. “Uh. Yeah. That’s right.”
Mike continued on. “And I’ll have your kids while you’re gone.” Mike forced a smile. “You’ll be fine and so will I. I promise to keep them alive.”
“Um, if you guys have had enough female bonding then it’s time to go get married.” Alistair opened the door and then whispered to Garrett, “Want me to help you run away since your best man won’t?”
“Nah. My feet are happily pointed toward the altar.”
Mike’s smile slipped a little bit. Yeah. His had been, too, even if he had been drunk off his ass. “Let’s go. I’ll get you up there and make sure you stay.”
Chapter Fourteen
Morgan stood on the church steps, took a calming breath and smoothed her sweaty palms across her light aqua dress. The chiffon skirt blew in the chilled evening breeze and she rubbed the goose bumps from her arms. Her hair was in a loosely braided bun and her makeup was flawless.
Everything was perfectly in place, except her.
She wasn’t supposed to be here. Mike had told her they were done and walked away without a second glance. But she clung to the hope that he’d been hiding his pain from her and that he might actually love her, like he’d shouted in the hallway. That his words hadn’t been a slip of the tongue, but rather the truth slipping free.
Because she definitely loved him. And she wanted him back.
She treaded up the first step, her heart in her throat and her boots each weighing a ton. Though she should have worn heels underneath her floor-length gown, she kept her boots on for one reason and one reason only. Mike liked them. And if she was going to crash his sister’s wedding and tell him she loved him…then she was going to do it right.
Damn it.
By the time she reached the door, her hands were shaking and she swore her feet were going to slip out of her boots from the layer of sweat covering her body. With her hand on the large metal door handle, she stood there panicking. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t beg him to love her and give her another chance.
Could she?
The door swung open and Brianna was there, smiling. She grabbed Morgan’s arm and hauled her inside, closing the door behind her. “Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to come in and sit before the wedding starts?”
Morgan blinked at the shadowy interior. The church smelled like incense and expensive cologne. The lights were dimmed low and an organ strummed lightly from within the church. “Did it start yet?”
“No.” Brianna grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the double doors. “Your husband is already in there, at the altar. You can sit up front with the family, on the left.”
So, Mike hadn’t told Brianna they’d split up? Hadn’t told his family what had happened? They had no idea and thought she was just another member of the family now. She wasn’t. At all. She couldn’t do this—pretend to be something she wasn’t in front of the people Mike loved.
Not to mention the fact that if she sat up front with his family, he would see her right away. She wanted to watch him from a distance and assess the situation. Get the metaphorical balls to approach him. Panic clawed up her throat, choking her. “Oh, no. I don’t want to be a bother. I’ll just sit in the back.”<
br />
“But—?”
Morgan slid into the last pew in the church, hastily crossing herself as she sat. “See? I’m fine back here. I’ll talk to Mike after.”
Brianna gave her an odd look, but then patted her shoulder. “Okay. I’ll see you at the reception.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Morgan watched Brianna rush back into the foyer and then sank back against the wood pew. She could make out Mike at the front of the church but his back was to her. If she had any luck, he wouldn’t see her until the wedding was over. Then, and only then, could she approach him and pull him into a private room.
He turned toward the pews and smiled, looking as if he couldn’t be happier. As if nothing was wrong. And it hurt to see him so happy. Maybe she’d been wrong to come here. Wrong about his feelings. Wrong about everything. Just as she debated slipping out the back door and disappearing, she realized what a freaking wuss she was being.
It didn’t matter if she was wrong. She needed to tell him how she felt or she would never know if he felt the same. She couldn’t have the uncertainty hanging over her head for the rest of her life.
Someone tapped her shoulder. “May I sit with you?”
“Sure.” She slid over and looked up. Once she saw the red hair and green eyes, and the no nonsense manner in which he held himself, she recognized him. “You’re Alistair, right?”
“Yeah.” His eyes flashed. “But you can call me Al.”
“All right.” She adjusted her skirt and stared down at her legs. She didn’t know what to say to this man who’d witnessed her wedding. Gee, thanks for recording me being a drunk dumbass didn’t quite seem sufficient. “This is a beautiful wedding.”
“Yeah, it is.” Al rubbed the back of his neck. “Why are you here?”
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, twisting the chiffon dress in her fists. “You know?”
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