Second Opinion (5 page)

“Your room or mine.” My mouth found hers once more.

Her lips immediately parted for me, and this time her hands tangled in my hair as I thrust my hips toward hers.

If kissing was this good, I knew the sex would be out of this world. I didn’t know much about Avery, but I had gathered from my sister’s talks about her that she tended to play the field.

Well so did I, so the more I thought about it, the more hooking up with her seemed like a really fantastic idea.

Just like the first time, I pulled away from her. She looked supremely disappointed, and I felt it as well.

“Tomorrow, then,” she whispered.

“Tomorrow,” I repeated, and then I pressed my lips to hers once more and opened the door.

After she left and I bolted the lock behind her, I wondered what the fuck I had been thinking.

I had a raging hard-on, and I had just let the solution to my problem walk out the door.

I tossed and turned after a lonely one-on-one session with my cock. I couldn’t stop wondering why I hadn’t just fucked Avery, why I hadn’t allowed her to stay. Even if we hadn’t fucked, we could’ve fooled around a little. Instead I was alone, miserable, and horny, even after I released the pent-up desire pounding inside of me.

* * *

I woke up on the day of my sister’s wedding. I was happy for Quinn and Reed. It was cliché to say they completed each other, but seeing the two of them together really did show me it was possible to find light in the dark. It was possible to find love even when you didn’t want it, because neither of them had been looking for it when they found each other.

I thought about Rachelle for about the millionth time over the past few weeks. It must’ve been the wedding bringing back so many memories of her, but I couldn’t seem to get her out of my head.

I showered and shaved, fixed my hair and brushed my teeth, and threw on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt to head down to the hotel’s free continental breakfast.

And wouldn’t you know it? There stood Avery, looking like an angel as she studied the bowl of yogurt containers cooling over ice.

I sauntered up behind her, ready for the day ahead. I was excited because my sister was getting married, but I was also looking forward to spending the day with Avery. I was anticipating in particular how the day was going to end, but I loved the game we were playing, too.

“Good morning,” I said softly.

She jumped and turned to face me. “You scared the shit out of me, Grant.”

Somehow she took my breath away. Her hair and make-up were already done for the day, but she was wearing a button down plaid shirt and a pair of shorts. She looked beyond stunning. The night before at the rehearsal dinner, she was stunning. This version of Avery was out of this world. Her hair was pulled back, a mass of curls piled on top of her head. Her skin was flawless and accentuated with make-up that made her look both natural and gorgeous. I knew I was staring, but I couldn’t stop.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “Find any good yogurt?”

“I like strawberry, but there’s only peach.”

“Want me to run to the store to get you strawberry?”

She smiled flirtatiously. “You wouldn’t.”

“I’d do just about anything for you,” I wanted to say. But I didn’t.

Wait one goddamn minute.

What the FUCK was that thought about?

“Sure I would,” I said instead, and she smiled as she held up the peach one.

“I’ll deal with this garbage.”

I grinned. “Mind if I join you for breakfast?”

She made a face. “I have bridesmaid duties. I just came down to grab some food.”

“Better fuel up, baby,” I murmured.

She caught my drift. “I could say the same for you,” she said, lowering her voice as we both watched my parents walk into the room for breakfast.

I lowered my voice even more. “I’ve heard peach yogurt makes you come harder and longer.”

A light blush graced her cheeks, causing her to look a bit more innocent...something she was most certainly not. She reached into the bowl and grabbed another peach yogurt, grinned at me, and headed out of the room. She hugged each of my parents before disappearing, and I realized I had watched her walk all the way out.

I had to get control of my hormones, or this was going to make for a very long day.

I poured the waffle mix into a cup and then transferred it to the waffle maker as my parents walked up.

“Good morning,” I said, and my dad clapped his hand on my shoulder.

I glanced at my mom. She was dressed and ready for the day.

“You look gorgeous, Mom.”

She lit up and pulled me into a hug while my dad headed over to the coffee machine. “When are you getting dressed? Bridal party pictures are in two hours.”

“Probably in about one hour and forty-five minutes.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t make your sister mad today. You know how she gets.”

“How’s she doing?”

I tended to tease my sister a lot, but I loved my family. I had a soft spot for Quinn that had only deepened as I watched her fall in love with my friend. She had been through more than I knew, more than she’d ever shared with me. I was thrilled she’d met and fallen for a guy like Reed, and I was glad to be welcoming him to our family.

“She’s surprisingly calm.”

“I think that’s the effect Reed has on her.”

“Have you seen him this morning?” My mom pulled a peach yogurt out of the bowl and I shifted uncomfortably as I thought about what I’d just said to Avery.

“No. I’ll catch up with him after breakfast.”

“You’re so laid back. It drives me crazy sometimes, Grant.”

I slung my arm around my mom’s shoulders. “What’s there to worry about?”

“Only everything.”

“I see where Quinn gets it.”

My mom glared at me, and I laughed. The waffle maker beeped, indicating my breakfast was ready. I set it on the plate and covered it with syrup, grabbed a banana and a peach yogurt of my own, and sat at a table.

My dad set his coffee down at my table and joined my mom by the food to get his own plate. I slid my phone out of my pocket to fire off a quick text to Reed to check to see if he needed anything.

I had a new text from Avery.

Just thought you should know I finished both of my peach yogurts. –A

I grinned down at my phone.

Good girl. –G

I included a picture of my own empty peach yogurt.

My parents sat. “What are you smiling about?” my mom asked.

“Nothing,” I mumbled, setting my phone on the table facedown. I hadn’t even realized I’d been smiling.

My mom raised my eyebrows at my dad, who said nothing.

“What?”

My mom shrugged. “That ‘nothing.’ That smile. Is it a girl?”

Shit. She was dangerously close to the truth, but it wasn’t just any girl. This was Avery, one of my sister’s best friends.

I ignored the question in favor of a bite of my waffle.

My mom was starting to get the grandmother itch, and I was certain she had expected her son to get married before her daughter. I knew she just wanted me to be happy, and I understood her concerns considering I’d never brought home a girl to meet my parents. But I’d never met anyone worthy of meeting my parents, not since Rachelle.

“I’ll take your silence as a yes.”

“Take it how you want. I’m just enjoying my waffle.”

“Why didn’t you bring a date to the wedding?” she grilled.

“What are you, twelve?” I gave my dad, who had thus far remained silent, a look indicating I needed him to help me out.

He just shrugged and rolled his eyes, as if to say, “You know how your mother is.”

Thanks, Dad.

“I’m just curious, Grant. You’re thirty-two. Haven’t you thought about settling down?”

The funny thing was that I had, in fact, thought about settling down. I had planned on it, actually.

But that was a long time ago.

CHAPTER 6

SEVEN YEARS EARLIER

“No.”

It was the only word I hadn’t expected to hear fall from her perfect mouth in the thousands of scenarios I’d pictured when I had thought about this moment.

But it was the single word that had the ability to rip my heart out of my chest and shove it back up my ass.

That’s how it felt, anyway.

“No?” I repeated, feeling stupid and small and insecure – three things I never, ever felt. Three things only the word “no” from Rachelle in this very moment could make me feel.

“I… I can’t, Grant.”

Can’t Grant… Can’t Grant… Can’t Grant.

Her rhyming denial echoed in my mind.

“But I love you.” My voice sounded like someone else’s, not like the strong adult I’d somehow grown into.

“And I love you. But marriage?”

“If not marriage, then where do you see this going?”

She glanced away, and I felt her cold hands drop mine. “You’re not marriage material, Grant.” Her voice was soft, but it was far from soothing.

That was the single moment I knew it was over.

She didn’t want a future with me. She didn’t see a life with me even though it was all I had dreamed of with her.

That was the moment when I stopped dreaming of the future and started living for the moment.

She had broken me, shattered me into a million pieces when she’d told me no, but I had no idea what the future held in store for me.

I had no idea that one day down the road, she’d walk back into my life.

I had no idea that when she did walk back in, the pain and destruction she left behind would be far, far worse than her simple denial.

You never really hear the stories of engagement denials. You only ever hear about the good stories, the ones that work out. The ones where the woman says, “Yes.”

But my story is the one where she said, “No.”

It was awkward as soon as I realized it was a negative.

I stared at her, memorizing every millimeter of gorgeous skin she owned and knowing full well what we had was over but not willing to be the one to end it. Because as soon as this moment ended, that meant we ended, too.

The eyes I knew so well and I had imagined looking into as we grew old together wouldn’t meet mine.

I thought I had planned the evening perfectly. I didn’t want some stupid cliché engagement story to share with everyone, so I planned a huge surprise.

Shit, she hadn’t even met my family. There was absolutely no way she would have expected it.

I hadn’t been nervous going into it. I knew I wanted to spend my life with her, and based on the conversations we’d had, I was fairly certain she felt the same. I was ready to take that step and make that commitment.

She loved animals, so I did it at the zoo. We had known each other since college. I’d been her friend before I’d fallen in love with her, and our friendship first was enough to convince me we would make it the distance.

It was in front of the giraffes – her favorite animal – where I dropped down on one knee. She’d looked at me like I was insane, and then I had said, “Rachelle, I love you. I want a future with you. Marry me.”

I’ve already mentioned her response.

So I stared at the giraffes and decided I hated giraffes from that moment forward. Anything giraffe could go to hell.

Even that video of the mother birthing the baby giraffe. Fuck it. I hated it.

And the poster of the mother giraffe kissing the baby giraffe? Fucking gag me.

We walked awkwardly toward the zoo exit and back to the car. I drove her home in silence, rolling her words over in my mind. I didn’t want silence. I wanted her to explain herself. I wanted to know why she didn’t see the same future I did. I wanted to know why she had diagnosed me as someone who wasn’t “marriage material.”

I wanted a second opinion.

But what I wanted didn’t matter, because I had no idea how to break the silence filling the space between us.

I dropped her off at her apartment, and that was it.

After that, we didn’t speak for three years.

When I walked into my house, I glanced around the place, thinking what it would’ve been like to come back and celebrate our engagement. I never once even pondered the idea I might end up alone that night. I never imagined for a second she wouldn’t be as excited as I was to start our future together.

I tossed my keys on my counter and wandered quietly through the kitchen. I opened the refrigerator and peered in. After a full minute of staring at the contents inside of my fridge, I pulled out a bottle of beer.

I stared at the bottle for a while before hurtling it to the ground. Glass shattered and amber liquid spread in a soft, slow wave across my floor. The smell of yeast pervaded my nostrils, but none of it had any effect on me.

I went to my liquor cabinet and poured myself a tall tumbler of scotch. My goal was to drink until I passed out, to numb the pain from the rejection I never saw coming.

When I woke up on my couch the next morning, it was hard to look at reaching my goal as a success.

My head pounded from the liquor, but worse than that, I felt as shattered as the broken bottle of beer I’d slammed against my floor the night before… which I completely forgot about until I stepped on the broken glass.

“Fuck,” I muttered to no one in particular.

I extracted a small glass shard from my heel and pressed a wet paper towel to the wound, not really sure what to do for myself. I was hung over, miserable, and now bleeding, and I blamed Rachelle for all of it.

Fucking Rachelle. The girl who I loved was now the bitch who ruined my life.

Even as I thought it, it felt wrong. She wasn’t a bitch. But she had ruined my life.

She’d broken my heart.

I’d never known what a real broken heart was like, but I was about to.