Page 11 of Second Chance Saloon

“It’s fully paid for, and I won’t be able to get a refund now. Fuck.” He groaned. “Maybe you and Caroline could go? Two weeks in a gorgeous all-inclusive luxury resort in Cancún. Shame for it to go to waste.”

Hunter chuckled. “I’d love to, dude. Really. But Caroline needs to get back to work next week, and I have riding lessons scheduled.”

After Hunter’s father died, the family had sold their ranch outside Purcell. Hunter had taken his share of the money and moved to Aberdeenshire in Scotland, where he bought an equestrian facility.

Mitch sighed. “I’ll email the hotel in the morning, say we aren’t coming … Money’s just money, right?”

“You should go,” Hunter said.

Mitch goggled at him. “Go on my honeymoon alone, without a wife?”

“Why not? If anyone deserves a great holiday it’s you. Especially after, well, everything.”

Mitch’s stomach dropped. His life had imploded in a matter of hours. The hopes and dreams he’d harbored for his future, with Eve by his side, popped and disappeared like fragile bubbles that had raised a bit too high in the air.

He’d already taken two weeks’ vacation from work. What would he do if he didn’t go to Mexico? Go back to Oklahoma City, to the apartment they shared? Stare at their photos, get angry and smash them? Lie in their king-size bed, Eve’s pillow no doubt still smelling of her? Maybe he could burn that pillow once he got back.

It had “pathetic” written all over it.

Maybe Hunter was right. Maybe this was exactly what he needed.

Two days later, Mitch squeezed himself into seat 7A on the plane heading to Cancún. He had fallen asleep on the first leg of his flight; now, with another three hours ahead of him, he was wide awake and ready to get the party started. It didn’t matter it would be a pitiful one.

“Sir, I need to ask you to remove this.” A flight attendant with a blonde pixie cut looked pointedly at his Stetson straw hat sat on its own seat like a guest of honor. “Someone might be sitting here.”

“My wife was meant to be here.” He frowned, the words burning his throat. “But she cheated on me in the side room of the chapel—moments before our wedding.” Mitch let out a sarcastic laugh. “So, she isn’t here. I’m wifeless, wishing I could be a lot less sober.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I really must insist—”

“Leave the man be. He ain’t hurting anyone,” an older man in the aisle seat piped up, joining the conversation. “It’s just a hat.”

The flight attendant grimaced. “Someone might want to sit here. Though I suppose if the seat was booked, it might be all right.”

Mitch grunted.

The man smiled at the flight attendant. “Then it’s sorted. We’re going to spend the next three hours with …” He turned to Mitch. “What’s your name, son?”

“Mitch.”

“I’m Bart.” The man extended his hand in greeting.

Mitch gripped it firmly and shook. Then, he looked up at the visibly flustered flight attendant. “Once the bar opens, can we get some drinks for me and Bart here?”

She gave him a tight smile. “Of course.”

An hour later, Bart knew every horrendously embarrassing detail from Mitch’s sham of a wedding. Alcohol always loosened his tongue, and he’d left his days of being insecure back in college. One drink turned into three. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure how else he would work through his pain. Bottling his feelings up never did him any good, so he decided to have some fun. If this humiliation could ever be considered fun.

Bart raised a plastic cup to him. “Maybe it was fate. Maybe it had to happen. Maybe it would’ve been a mistake if you ended up marrying her.”

Mitch snorted, pushing himself further into the uncomfortable seat. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it.”

“I’ve been married three times. Each one ended up in a divorce. They cost a fortune … You should count yourself lucky, son.”

Mitch shut his eyes, trying to turn off the jumbled voices around him. He had a splitting headache. It could be due to the alcohol consumed on the flight or maybe the cumulation of all that he had drunk in the past couple of days—either way, he refused to rejoin the conversation.

As much as Eve was in the wrong, as much as there was no excuse for what she did, she also wasn’t completely wrong. He’d never forgotten Jackie. And he probably never would. How could he, if he never got the closure he needed to move on?

Maybe whoever controlled his fate was having a good laugh at him just now. Karma and all.