I exhale a hard breath.
“I’m serious. Relax and open your mind.” She closes her eyes, sits straight, and inhales. “Okay, here we go.”
Collin leans in, literally on the edge of his seat.
Jazz clears her throat, running a long fingernail down the center of my hand. “Okay, this is interesting … your fate line … this one right here … it tells me how strongly your life will be controlled by your destiny. Now, your line is pretty deep. Deeper than most. Some people don’t have one at all. But yours has this branch that connects to your lifeline. You have a predetermined destiny … but there’s a crossroads here. You’re fighting it. You’re denying it. You have to decide what you want and go for it. The universe will support you either way. But as it stands now, your life can go in one of two extremely different directions.”
I jerk my hand away, done.
Tell me something I don’t fucking know …
43
Brie
“Why does that girl keep staring at us?” Megan nods toward the back of the crowded bar Friday night. Four hours ago she hopped off her plane and cabbed it to my place, fully dressed and ready to paint the town.
After the week I’ve had, I’m not particularly in the mood to “party” but it’s good to spend time with a familiar face—one I can trust.
Besides, she came all this way.
“Who’s staring?” I scan the room.
Megan points. “That girl with the big blue eyes and the long wavy hair and the flowy marigold dress.”
My gaze lands on the deep yellow across the room. How I missed it the first time, I don’t know. But sure enough, the girl is shooting looks in our direction.
My direction.
Because that girl … is Serena.
“I think she used to date Grant.” I turn back to Megan. “Ignore her.”
“Maybe you should tell her he’s single?”
“What’s the point?” I shrug and sip my lemon drop martini.
“I just don’t like the way she’s looking at you. I want her to stop.” Ever the protective big sister, Megan glares back in Serena’s direction.
“She’s not worth it.” I pat Megan’s arm to redirect her attention. “Stop. Let it go.”
“Oh my God. She’s still looking over here.” Megan scowls. “I’m going to say something.”
“Don’t …”
Before I can utter another protest, she’s on her way to the other side of the bar. Her back is to me and her hands move as she speaks—never a good sign. I turn away. I can’t watch this. Sipping my drink, I peruse the bar menu before scrolling through my phone a minute or two. Checking back, I find them still going at it.
And then Serena whips out her phone. The screen lights the dark space around them, painting their faces in white-blue light. Megan leans in. And then for some crazy reason, Serena hands my sister her phone.
I’m half-tempted to go over there and investigate, but something tells me to stay put.
An endless minute goes by before Meg returns.
“That son of a bitch.” She shakes her head and reaches for her drink.
“What? What just happened? I’m so confused …”
“Well.” She squares her shoulders. “I went over there and introduced myself as your sister. I told her that she needed to grow the hell up and leave you alone. I told her that you dumped Grant. That you were done with him. And then I said he was all hers … to which she responded: what made you think he never was?”
“Meg, how drunk are you? You’re not making sense. I don’t understand what you’re telling me.”
“Basically … the whole time Grant was engaged to you, he was screwing her behind your back.”
I have no words.
In fact, I can hardly bring myself to move a muscle.
I never loved him, not in any profound sort of way. But the sting of betrayal sends a searing heat to my core and a burn to my eyes.
“Hey.” Meg reaches across the table, covering my hand with hers. “Don’t cry over that asshole.”
“I’m not.” The tears fall anyway. “I just feel so stupid, that’s all.”
“He had you snowed. He had us all snowed. Just be grateful you went with your gut and got out of that before it was too late.” She gives me a squeeze. “Want to get out of here? Let’s go. We can loaf it up on the couch. Put on some Sex and the City. Maybe grab some microwave popcorn and cinnamon Mike and Ikes on the way home from that bodega on the corner?”
She’s trying to cheer me up, and I love her for that, but this is one of those things I’m going to have to sit with for a sec.
I’ll get over it.
I’m not worried about that.
I just need to let myself feel this molten wave of emotions so I know exactly how I never want to feel again: like a fool.
44
Cainan
It’s two solid hours before Grant emerges from the hotel suite bedroom, tucking his shirt down his pants and wearing a satisfied smile.
“Good to see you’re taking this Brie thing in stride,” I say when I bump into him by the fridge.
He grabs a beer, his satisfied smile fading. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Seems like you’re in better spirits, that’s all.”
“Yeah. Well. It’s a lost cause.” He pops the tab on his Coors, and I decide not to tell him his shirt buttons are crooked. He’s probably too drunk to care. “She convinced her dad not to invest with me. He ripped up the contracts. Told me to get lost.”
“So … that’s what makes it a lost cause?”
“Obviously.” He takes two generous swallows.
“I thought you loved her?” All those phone calls, all the self-pity, all the rambling he did about how perfect she was. “Or was it always about the money?”
Resting his back against the counter, he gives me a sideways smirk. “Don’t be so fucking dense.”
“Grant, you lied to me.” My vision narrows and my jaw is taut. “You told me you met the woman of your dreams … that she was everything you ever wanted … that you loved her … you said you wanted a house in the ‘burbs and kids and a dog …”
He hides his arrogant grin with his beer. “Yeah. I said those things.”
Serena …
The prenup …
“You never loved her.” I’m not asking.
He lifts a shoulder. “I mean … I thought I could learn to love her. She was a nice girl. A bit vanilla in the bedroom but the sex was good enough. We could’ve had it fucking made, Cain. If she would’ve just—”
“—you mean you could’ve had it fucking made,” I correct him. “She would’ve been shackled to an unfaithful prick who only married her because he wanted her family’s money.”
“Unfaithful prick?” He scoffs. “Little harsh there, don’t you think? And why are you acting so protective of her? She was my girl. Not yours. Oh, wait. That’s right. I remember. I asked you to keep an eye on her for me and you let her fucking fall for you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I saw the way you looked at her at my dad’s funeral. Every time she thought I wasn’t paying attention, she was staring your way. Then I busted you two outside, alone, at your party. And then magically, as soon as we get back to Phoenix, she dumps me and tells me she’s moving to New York. I’m not a fucking moron.”
“If you didn’t trust me, why’d you ask me to keep tabs?”
“Maybe because a part of me did trust you. You’re my best fucking friend, Cainan. Didn’t want to think you’d stoop that low.”
“Stoop that low?” If that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black …
“Or maybe you just wanted to get me back.”
I fold my arms. “Get you back for what?”
“Mallory,” he speaks the name of my ex from college, a girl I dated for three years before she had a pregnancy scare, admitted the baby wasn’t mine, and found herself immediately single. In the end, she miscarried
, losing the baby and the guy she supposedly “loved more than life.”
“What are you saying …?”
“Oh, come on. I know you know.” He rolls his eyes.
“It was you?”
“It was a mistake. A one-time mistake. And I felt like shit about it after … I thought she told you?”
My jaw clenches so hard it sends a throb to my temples. “Do you honestly think I’d forgive you for fucking my girlfriend of three years?”
“Well … yeah. That’s what brothers do.” He chuffs.
“You’re not my fucking brother.” The words are a hoarse growl in my throat. “Not anymore.
I moved on from the Mallory incident a lifetime ago, but I never forgot how eager Grant was to help me pick up the pieces when I moved on. He personally saw to it that I was never empty-handed come the weekend and that I never went too long without a gorgeous piece of coed ass to numb the pain and forget the betrayal.
“You knew I didn’t know,” I say.
He shakes his head, nose wrinkled, looking every inch the part of a liar.
I see liars all the time in my office. People like him that think the rules don’t apply to them. Who forget how to be a decent fucking human being. Who act like their wants and needs are above everyone else’s.
“All you ever do is lie,” I say. “But I can’t even be mad at you right now. I can only be mad at myself for looking the other way all these years. For making excuses for you. For thinking our bullshit brotherhood trumped the fact that you’re just a shitty asshole in an expensive suit.”
All this time, I could have been pursuing Brie. Instead, I tormented myself, convincing myself that Grant’s happiness mattered more than mine.
Now I know that had the tables been reversed, the bastard wouldn’t have hesitated a single fucking second before making his move.
“You’ve changed, Cainan. You’re not who you used to be,” Grant turns up his nose. “Sometimes I feel like my best friend died in that accident … because I don’t know who the hell you are.”
“Fuck you.” I turn to leave, intending to grab my duffel, find another hotel room in a different hotel, and book the first flight back to Manhattan tomorrow.
Only before I take a second step, I catch a surprise left hook—and everything fades to black, nothing but a soft voice whispering in my ear.
Elay-fay-por-twah …
Elay-fay-por-twah …
Elay-fay-por-twah …
I wake to two paramedics in blue uniforms hovering over me.
“Hey, there,” one of them says. “You gave us quite the scare.”
But the words play on a loop in my head.
Elay-fay-por-twah …
Elay-fay-por-twah …
Elay-fay-por-twah …
There’s no music.
No girls.
Not even Grant.
Elay-fay-por-twah …
Elay-fay-por-twah …
Elay-fay-por-twah …
My head throbs with the intensity of a Mack truck.
Elay-fay-por-twah …
Elay-fay-por-twah …
Elay-fay-por-twah …
I couldn’t begin to make sense of that if I tried—it’s not English.
Hell, for all I know it’s a made-up language.
The paramedics sit me up.
“Easy does it,” one says. “You’re going to have one hell of a shiner. Nice little souvenir to take back with you. Not everything that happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas …”
Someone hands me ice wrapped in a washcloth.
Elay-fay-por-twah …
Elay-fay-por-twah …
Elay-fay-por-twah …
45
Brie
Megan’s on a plane back to home, and I’m folding the last of my towels Sunday night when a text comes through—from Cainan.
CAINAN: WE NEED TO TALK.
ME: LIKE I TOLD YOU LAST TIME … DON’T CONTACT ME AGAIN.
I’m two seconds from blocking his number and being done with this when his name flashes across my screen.
He’s calling me.
My thumb hovers over the red button, all the while my heart lurches into my throat. Half of me wants nothing to do with Grant or his connections in any way, shape, or form. The other half of me is drowning in a conflicting cocktail of ‘what if’ scenarios.
I tap the green icon and lift my phone to my ear. “Why are you calling me?”
“I just got home from Vegas,” he says. “We need to talk.”
“No thanks.”
“Brie, please. Five minutes is all I need.”
“Funny, you just spent a weekend with my ex and the first thing you do when you get back is check in on me …” I fold the last towel and place it on top of the stack.
Cainan exhales hard into the receiver and we wallow in mutual silence for a beat.
“Listen,” he finally says. “I’m not trying to harass you, and I didn’t call to argue.”
His tone is sincere. Believable. Then again, it always has been.
“I need to know if this phrase means anything to you … elay-fay-por-twah ….”
I collapse onto the foot of the bed, eyes wet and completely at a loss for words.
“Brie?” he asks. “You still there?”
A thick tear slides down my cheek. I wipe it away with the back of my hand.
“Yeah.” My throat is so tight it hurts to speak. “I’m still here.”
“Can I come over?”
I swallow and attempt to steady my breath. “Yes.”
46
Cainan
“Oh my God.” She gasps when she opens the door, hand clamped over her pretty mouth. And then she reaches for my eye. “What happened to you?”
“Grant. Grant happened.”
She frowns. “Why?”
“Because I called him out on his bullshit and he didn’t like what I had to say.” I give her the shortened, condensed version for now. “Can I come in?”
Brie nods and steps out of the way, closing the door behind me.
“Did you know he was cheating on me?” she asks before I make it halfway to the living room. “With that Serena girl. The whole time we were engaged. Did you know?”
“Yes.” I turn to face her, only to be met with the saddest green eyes I’ve ever seen.
She didn’t deserve what Grant did to her. Not an ounce of it.
“Were you ever going to tell me?” Her arms fold across her chest and her glassy gaze is pointed.
“I wanted to, Brie. But it was never my place.”
“Did you also know he was trying to convince my father to sign over his entire financial portfolio to Grant’s firm?” she asks.
“I had an idea, yes. But I didn’t know the extent of it,” I say. “At least not until this weekend.”
“You were drafting a prenup,” she says. “I saw the letter you sent him where you mentioned some clauses …”
“Unfortunately, I’m not able to share that with you. Attorney-client privilege.”
“Of course …” She sighs. “Must be nice to pick and choose when you want to be an upstanding individual.”
“You’re right.”
Her eyes flick onto mine.
“I could have spoken up if I wanted to. About the cheating. About comments he’d made. I didn’t. And I deeply regret the hurt it caused you to be on the receiving end of Grant’s antics.”
If I sound rehearsed, it’s because I spent the entirety of the flight home practicing exactly what I wanted to say to her, like a trial lawyer rehearsing his closing remarks. I didn’t know if she’d give me the time of day, but I sure as hell was going to try.
“Antics.” She huffs. “You make it sound like he’s some wayward juvenile delinquent and not a grown man playing God with other people’s lives.”
I take a seat in the velvet chair, rest my elbows on the tops of my thighs, and breathe into my hands.
“I was about six when Grant’s family moved next do
or to us on Copper Street in Jersey City,” I say. “First time we met, we got into this throwdown fight over whose bike was faster or some stupid thing kids argue about. I didn’t like him. There was something about him. But the feeling was mutual. Anyway, a week later my parents got into one of their infamous blood-curdling screaming matches. I grabbed my baby sister, went up to my room, and locked the door like I always did when that happened. But as I was sitting there, trying to distract Claire with a handful of stale Cheerios, someone was throwing pebbles at my window. I went to investigate, only there was nobody down below. Just a faded patch of dirt and weeds. But then I looked across—realized it was Grant. His bedroom window lined up perfectly with mine. He’d been throwing Legos, trying to get my attention. When I finally opened the window and popped out the screen, he tossed me a Star Wars Walkie-Talkie. Asked if I was okay. That was the day he became my best friend.”
She’s quiet, gaze fixed on me as she worries the inside of her lip.
“I mean it when I say he was like a brother to me,” I continue. “Growing up, we always had each other’s backs. We were inseparable. Nothing—and I mean nothing—could come between us.”
Brie takes a step closer. Silent. Reluctant. Attentive.
“He used to be a good person,” I say. “But somewhere along the line, he became toxic. Self-serving. A bold-faced liar.”
She takes a seat on the edge of the sofa, head in her hands.
“He lied to you, Brie. He deceived you in the worst kinds of ways,” I continue. “But he lied to me too. I was too blinded by my decades-long loyalty to see it. We never want to think the people we care about are capable of using us.”
She huffs, nodding. “What did he lie to you about?”
“Amongst other things … his feelings for you,” I say without pause.
Her dark brows knit. “I don’t understand how that’s a friendship deal breaker.”
“Because from the moment I met you in my dream, I knew you were real. And I knew you were meant for me. I looked for you everywhere. I thought about you constantly,” I say. “But then I found you. And you were his. And as much as it killed me inside, I had to respect that.” I press my lips into a hard line, exhaling. “He’d go on and on about how much he loved you, how amazing you were. And all it did was solidify—for me—the fact that I could never have you. When I found out you were moving here, Grant asked me to keep an eye on you. He also asked me to pretend to date you so you wouldn’t be able to date anyone else.”
The Best Man Page 18
