Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 68309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
More laughter trails from down the hall, which only makes this moment all the more painful. He has a wonderful family. They’ve been nothing but supportive of Grant and Georgette, and they’ve welcomed me with open arms while grieving their beloved patriarch at the same time.
Tomorrow we leave to spend a couple of days in the city—kicking things off Friday night with Cainan’s party. And Cainan, as it turns out, is the same man who hit on me at a singles bar in Hoboken this past February. Of course I didn’t know that when I came across his car accident two days after that night. And then when I saw him again at that Midtown bar the other week, I didn’t know he was Grant’s friend.
Everything is cross-crossing and intersecting in the strangest of ways, and I don’t quite know what to make of it. The only thing I am still sure of—is that I still intend to end the engagement when the dust from all of this settles and we’re back home in Phoenix.
I wish I felt differently about Grant. I do.
But you can’t force yourself to love someone any more than you can make yourself to un-love someone.
Either you do—or you don’t.
There’s no such thing as in between.
“We’re going to have one of these someday.” Grant closes the album and places it on the coffee table with the others. “Can’t wait to fill it with memories of our own.”
His dark gaze holds mine captive.
Grant cups my cheek in his hand and deposits a slow kiss, one I have to force myself to return even if his lips are ice cold and his breath tastes of beer and marinara.
“I love you so much, Brie,” he whispers in my ear as he cups my cheek.
An apologetic ache burns in my chest.
And then I say the words he needs to hear because the man has had enough pain and suffering for one week. “I love you, too.”
He returns to the kitchen, turning back once to give me a sleepy smile.
The bitterness of my lie remains on my tongue long after he’s gone, and while I’m lying in bed later that night, unable to sleep, my mind is inexplicably fixed on the strangest thing.
No, not thing—person.
Grant’s best friend.
20
Cainan
“How many of those have you had?” Claire points to the empty tumbler in front of me.
“It’s my first.” I push it toward the passing bartender and nod when he asks if I’d like another.
“Jesus, Cain. The party doesn’t even start for another twenty minutes. Pace yourself. I can’t have my guest of honor stumbling and bumbling around like a drunken idiot.”
“When have I ever stumbled or bumbled?” I shoot her a look and accept my refill.
“Fair point.” She glances toward the door. “Okay, people are arriving. I just saw Mia Taylor and her husband. And DuVall is here with his wife. You should probably head to the private dining room … oh, there’s Serena. Aaaand Grant and Brie.”
The latter two follow a line of well-dressed guests down a dimly-lit hallway. His hand rests on the small of her back, her body enveloped in a little black dress that makes me want to eat my fucking fist.
Like the good brother I am, I head to the private room to receive my guests—beginning with the Taylors, old college friends of mine who flew all the way here from Seattle, and moving onto DuVall before Grant interrupts by squeezing between us to order two drinks.
“Hey, man,” he says, inadvertently butting DuVall out of the equation.
“Glad you guys could make it.” Although I saw them two days ago, in some ways it feels like a lifetime.
I’ve been doing my best to emotionally distance myself from whatever mental hold my mind had on that woman.
Guests arrive in full force. Singles. Pairs. Groups. An hour into the event, Claire tells me everyone who RSVP’d has officially arrived and instructs the wait staff to start handing out champagne for the toast.
She’s officially insane.
But whatever.
A hundred people lift their glasses to me.
They celebrate the fact that I’m alive—I smile as if I share their enthusiasm.
But the truth is, I’ve never felt so dead inside.
In some ways, I suppose I’ve come full circle.
The woman I believed I was destined to love … belongs to my best friend.
She can never be mine.
So while he’s been mourning his father, I’ve been mourning her.
And the life we’ll never have.
21
Brie
I gather a breath of chilled city air into my lungs and pull Grant’s linen suit jacket tighter around me. The restaurant signage glows above me. Passersby converse along the sidewalk.
Inside, Cainan’s party is still going strong. We’ve been here three never-ending hours, and somewhere along the line, Grant did four too many shots and drank three too many beers and forgot that he was here with a plus-one.