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“Hurt me?”
The bitterness in her voice took his breath away. And yet, he deserved her wrath. “No, Remy,” he countered gently, “I protect you.” He took a step forward.
She shook her head, stepping back. “Just don’t. Stay away from me. Just leave me alone!” Her dress rustled and brushed across his legs as she ran away.
It occurred to him then that even though he knew he did the right thing by stopping the wedding today, he’d forever be remembered as the guy who broke her heart, not once, but twice.
Chapter 2
“You can’t hide in your wedding dress forever.”
“Watch me,” Remy called to Kinsley from beneath her blanket on her queen-size bed. They were best friends, but not even Kinsley could get her out of where she’d been hiding all morning. The sunlight shone through the thin sheet, promising a gorgeous day. There was nothing beautiful about it, and Remy wouldn’t be fooled.
Life sucked.
And she wasn’t just wallowing in finding out her fiancé was trying to con her out of her inheritance, even if her heart currently felt like Damon had put it through a cheese grater. First of all, she thought she’d wake up this morning married to a man who was as close to perfect as he could get. Damon had been sweet, thoughtful, and romantic. He’d given her foot rubs without her having to ask. He’d listened to her problems and offered gentle advice. He’d even planned perfect dates. Lies! All lies!
Second, she thought she would finally put working as a bartender behind her, would finally have her inheritance to open her long-awaited shop, Black Cat’s Cauldron, a New Age witch, herbal medicine shop, mixed with some good old-fashioned voodoo, spell making, and tarot card reading. All things she’d learned from her nana, whom she’d lived with since she was six years old after her mom decided she didn’t want to be a mom anymore, and instead went on tour with her country folk band. Only days ago, Remy had figured it all out. She planned on buying the empty shop beneath her rented loft apartment. A shop that was beside Peyton’s lingerie shop, Uptown Girl, with Kinsley’s bar, Whiskey Blues, on the other side. But that dream was now gone. And so was her inheritance. Not that she blamed her nana for putting in that stipulation into her last will and testament. Her grandmother thought Remy would marry Asher. She couldn’t have anticipated that Remy would have still been single at the age of thirty.
The other—biggest—problem was Remy’s unexpected reaction to Asher objecting to the wedding. In those long seconds after he called out, her heart skipped a full beat, hoping—hell, begging—that he had come for her because he still loved her. She hated the hurt that followed when she realized that wasn’t the case. She’d spent years getting over Asher. She’d spent even more time pulling her life together after he’d left. She was supposed to be over him. Asher was behind her.
Apparently, her heart didn’t get that memo.
No wedding. No shop. Still renting. Total failure.
And now on top of all that, she felt broken. Clearly she had nothing together if she couldn’t have spotted Damon for what he was, and she obviously hadn’t
gotten Asher out of her heart.
Somewhere between waking up and when Kinsley and Peyton entered her bedroom, Remy decided to live under the blanket with her black cat, Salem, the biggest bottle of wine she could find, and a gigantic tub of cookie dough ice cream.
“What is that smell?” Kinsley asked, breaking into Remy’s thoughts with a tight voice. “Seriously, Remy, I know you believe in magic and spells and all that jazz, but your room smells like a mix between a fart and a very spicy dead thing.”
“It’s called ‘I’m fixing my wrong’ incense,” Remy said, giving Salem a scratch on the head. He sat on her chest, purring away like life was great, with his bright green eyes on hers.
“What wrong?” Peyton asked.
“Damon…or Kyle…”—Remy hesitated and then winced. “Nope, I can’t do it. I’m calling him Damon. Anyway, Damon didn’t like all the witchy stuff, so he asked me not to do anything magical at the wedding, so I didn’t.” And boy, did she regret that now. “Hell, maybe that was the first red flag. He feared all the light, that damn evil bastard.”
“I agree with the evil bastard part,” Kinsley said. “But I can do without whatever shit this is that you’re burning.”
“Touch it and lose a finger,” Remy said calmly as Salem lifted his chin for more scratchies. “I need all the help I can get. That incense will cleanse me for abandoning what my nana taught me—for abandoning magic at the wedding.”
Heavy silence filled the room. Until Peyton broke it with her sweet, soft voice. “Your mom has called a dozen times now.”
Peyton had only moved to Stoney Creek a few months ago after losing her husband in a tragic car accident. The worried tone of Peyton’s voice was endearing, really, considering only a month ago the man who’d caused her husband’s murder had set out to kill her too. All in order to take full ownership of Peyton’s husband’s multi-million-dollar real estate company. Sad as that was, Peyton found love with Kinsley’s brother, Boone, and they were engaged now, so at least there was some good in the world still.
Compared to everything Peyton had been through, Remy’s problems seemed tiny. Even if her life was less than picture-perfect, with a father she never knew and a country folk singer mother who had less money than Remy did in her bank account, Remy felt like an asshole for hiding when Peyton faced everything with strength. She lowered the sheet, meeting the gentle stares of her two closest friends. Salem rose, yawned, and dug his paws into Remy’s chest as he stretched. The strong one, Kinsley, was sitting in the chair in the corner of the room. Her long, dark brown hair was straight today, with little makeup around her blue eyes. Not like she needed any. She looked beautiful first thing in the morning. The sweet one, Peyton, stood at the end of the bed, worrying her bright pink lips, her honey-colored hair in a side braid, looking perfectly put-together in her cream-colored sundress. “If my mother is really so worried about me, she would have actually come to the wedding yesterday instead of sending me a text,” Remy pointed out. She sat up in bed against her light gray fabric headboard, sending Salem moving off, only to return a second later to curl up in her lap. “She sends a fucking text to wish me well on my wedding. Who does that?”
Peyton cringed. “Okay, you’re right, that’s shitty, but she’s calling you now. Wouldn’t talking to her help?”
“Doubtful.” While Remy mentally understood that her mother couldn’t leave the tour, her heart didn’t. Especially considering it’s not like her mother was selling out huge stadiums. Playing small gigs was worth more than coming to her daughter’s wedding, apparently. Remy knew that shouldn’t surprise her. Her mother had never been the nurturing type; that’s why her nana had raised her when Mom decided to hit the road. And thank God she had her nana, or Remy’s life would have likely been filled with drunk and stoned adults.
“All right,” Kinsley finally said, breaking the silence with a scrunched nose. “You’re burning whatever shit this is to cleanse the bad energy; what else can we do to get you out of this bed?”
Remy took in what Kinsley said and then covered her face with her hands. God, she was pathetic. Seriously, pathetic. “Wine,” she mumbled, beneath her hands. “All the wine.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Peyton said. “You need to face this.”
