Page 11 of Accidentally Marrying the Best Man
“And you’re just now telling me?” she shrieks. “Is he hurt? Where is he?” Her voice is loud enough that people at the other tables look over. Charlotte notices and lowers her voice. “What happened to him?”
There’s no way I can relate the unhinged story he told me to Charlotte. She’ll have a ton of questions that I won’t be able to answer. “I don’t know, but he’s okay. And he’s so sorry he stood you up. He says there were extenuating circumstances beyond his control. He’ll call you and explain.”
She ponders that for a moment. “Okay. I guess I’ll wait for him to explain.”
The thought of the two of them having a conversation without me, even over the phone, doesn’t sit well. I’m fucking jealous of my brother, even though I’m the one married to Charlotte.
This is so fucked up.
I’m fucked up.
I need to move on from this train of thought. “Want to move some of your stuff to my place?”
“Yeah,” she says, relief lacing her voice. She’s as happy to move on to a new topic as I am.
I get up and reach out to help her out of the booth. She grabs it, and once she’s standing, I don’t let go. We walk out together, fingers interlaced.
Mel notices and catches my eye. She looks down at our hands, then back up at me and nods. I smile at her, and inwardly smirk.
I don’t have to tell people that Charlotte is mine. Fir Hollows is a tiny place, through which any gossip runs rampant.
All I have to do is show everyone that she belongs to me now, and everyone will quickly get the message.
Chapter 5
NICK
Two days later, I push through the door at Lola’s to meet up with Jay. After moving most of Charlotte’s clothes and other personal items to my place, we had another amazing night together. And then a lazy Sunday in bed. Actually, not that lazy and I get hard thinking about it, so I stop.
I’m in a foul mood because I want to be back in bed with my wife, but I can’t because I have to meet up with my idiot brother. And also, my wife is at work.
The bar is quiet this Monday afternoon. A nod to a few regulars sitting at the bar. Technically, half of this place belongs to me, but I’ve always been a silent partner. Jay runs this place without bothering me with the details. And I run our other co-owned business, Crossed Arrow Security. After we left the Special Forces, we put the skills we’d gained to use by starting a company specializing in data and people retrieval. Often, we contract with branches of the armed forces when they need to run missions off the books. We also work with several corporations. It's amazing how often business travelers get kidnapped and need quiet extractions that don’t come to the attention of shareholders or board of directors.
Speaking of kidnappings, I scan the place for my unhinged brother. I owe him a punch in the face.
Lamps cast long shadows over polished wooden tabletops. Barry Manilow paraphernalia adorn the walls. Grandmother was a big fan, and the name of the place is a nod to her favorite song.
Jay comes out of the office in the back and nods toward a booth. I join him, sliding into the seat across from his.
“You’re late,” he says as the vinyl squeaks under my weight.
“Not as late as you. You’re like, missing-the-wedding late.” I exhale, pissed beyond words but holding it back, mostly. “You left Charlotte standing there, Jay. That’s not just shitty. It’s the kind of crap that breaks people.”
“I’m sorry about that,” he says, voice flat, finally meeting my eyes. “I’ll apologize to her.”
“This isn’t something you can fix by saying you’re sorry.” I jab a finger against the table. “You really hurt her. And I’m fucking done cleaning up your messes.”
Jay’s jaw twitches, like he wants to say something but the words get tangled halfway out. “Look, it’s not what you think.”
“Oh, it’s not?” I laugh bitterly. “You didn’t let your best friend down? After you’d begged her to do you a favor?”
He hesitates. For a long moment, the only sounds are the soft clink of glass and the drone of a country song playing low on the speakers.
“I really couldn’t help it,” Jay says. “I didn’t mean to abandon the wedding. I didn’t mean to leave Charlotte like that.”
“You always have brilliant excuses for screwing up,” I mutter.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re acting like I’m the family fuck-up who you constantly have to clean up after.”
