AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Archer
Ripping off the stupid bow tie, I finally unbutton my dress shirt that feels like it’s choking me. A sheet of sweat blankets my skin, and my palms are clammy. After my worry that Willow wouldn’t walk down the aisle was confirmed, I got punched in my face by a tiny woman half my size, instead of getting an explanation. I took off out the back and headed toward the beach where I currently sit stewing on everything I did wrong.
The sun set hours ago, but I sit in the cold sand burning with anger and confusion. Why?
What was it that finally made her run? I can’t be mad at her. It’s what I wanted for her. I’m just a selfish bastard who wanted to keep her.
“Hey. Thought that was you.”
My head snaps at the unexpected greeting. Cole, the very last person I ever thought I would see again, is standing on the beach, looking down at me. I look around for his wife, who I’m more afraid of, but the coast is clear. Contrary to his size, Cole is a big softy. He proves this by casually walking up and sitting next to me in the sand. Me, the man his wife and sister clearly hate at the moment.
I stay quiet, brewing in the misery of my own making. Why did I have to touch her? One touch from that woman was all it took for her to completely own me, convincing me to break my self-imposed rule not to mix pleasure with a business arrangement. Instead of taking a risk on me and giving up the life she knew, she ran.
The quiet splash of the calm waves breaking on the shore is the only sound as two grown men sit in a heavily emotional situation, not knowing what the fuck to say. Call me a cliché. I don’t fucking care.
“Your douche of a blonde friend was running his mouth when Willow and I were starting our walk to the altar. Told anyone who would listen to him that she’s putty in your hand because you saved her from a car hitting her.”
“That son of a bitch,” I scream at the thought of Willow having to hear Christian run his mouth.
“He basically said she was your perfect mark since she’s everything your mom hates, and it’s a way to stick it to her for making you have to get married.”
He won’t look at me, and I have no idea why he’s here. Is he trying to help me?
“Listen, I knew something was up the first time we met, but even the best liar wouldn’t look at my sister the way you do. So, I went along with everything without being a dick, but now is the time to start talking, if you want my help.”
I take a deep breath and tell him everything. The poker game, dad telling me to make a plan before the meeting, my unexpected name drop, getting to her right before the car hit her, Rio, and my undying love for her. “I would do anything to share a life with her.”
The night’s become pitch black. The only light is from the moon’s reflection off the water. It's calm, no tourists out walking on the beach.
“Damn if this isn’t romantic, man,” he says with a laugh, then pats my leg. “Let’s go get a beer.”
I happily accept the distraction of alcohol and ride with him to an old dive bar with a sign that reads Pants required. It smells like sweat and sawdust, and serves flat beer. I was fortunate this man wanted anything to do with me, let alone offer to help me figure this shit storm out.
We take a booth in the back, and he tells me stories about Willow, torturing me with more reasons to fall in love with her. When the hostess comes back with our second round, a flash of white catches my eye. Sitting at the bar with a glass of dark liquor is my father. Shocked, I take in his appearance. He looks disheveled, his tux resembling mine, with a missing jacket and bow tie, top buttons undone, and our sleeves rolled up to our forearms. It's like looking into my future. A lonely future.
His eyes catch mine, his expression equally shocked to see me. It takes a few minutes, but he finally pushes up to his feet and slowly makes his way to sit at the table.
“I’m sorry, son.”
He grips my shoulder, and I feel it. The warmth, like when I was a kid, upset about something, and he hugged me. I nod, still choking on so many feelings.
“I blame myself for telling you to pick someone. In my defense, I had no idea you would fall in love,” he says, but I keep my focus on my beer.
“I must say, I’m surprised to see the two of you here, let alone together.”
My father takes a long drink of his whiskey, and Cole takes in my silence with understanding, and explains things to my father.
“That little shit head. Where is he right now?” I almost smile at my father's outrage on my behalf.
“I have no idea.” Tipping my glass, I take a swig of my ale.
“I could find out,” he whispers conspiratorially.
This gets my attention, and after a quick phone call, we have an address.
“This brings back all the wrong memories,” Cole says, running his hands down his beard. He parks his truck across the street from Bombshells, a strip club I’ve been to with Christian a dozen times before. It shouldn’t surprise me that after ruining my wedding, my so-called best friend would be here.
I check my phone out of curiosity. Zero missed calls. One text message from Cole Waterson asking where I was. The sight is another reminder of how empty my life is without Willow.
At that exact moment, the blonde dick-head himself walks out with a girl on his arm. The three of us jump out but approach him slowly.
“Hey Christian, question for you?” I don’t let him answer before I swing, my fist crunching into his nose, and the woman screams. “Ever consider not saying stupid shit? We’ve had this conversation before, and I’ve brushed it off as Christian Wellington just being the pretentious, entitled dick head that he is. No big deal.”
He shouts at me from the ground, but his hand muffles his words attempting to stop his nose from bleeding. “When you insult my fiancée, moments before she’s about to walk down the aisle to me, it becomes a big deal.” I look down at him menacingly, fuming. Our lifelong friendship means jack shit at the end of the day. He’s only ever been out for himself. The cock sucker stumbles up and hides behind the girl he probably knows nothing about. I spit on his ugly ass loafers and turn back to Cole’s truck. Nothing left to say.
