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“I don’t know, dude. I don’t know you anymore. Maybe you’re still holding a grudge from when we were kids.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it. I would never hurt you like that.”
He might have been in a totally separate building down the road, but it felt like a sucker punch right to the gut. I ground my molars together and did my best to ignore the memories tapping incessantly in the back of my brain, trying to break through the barrier I installed ten years ago—when he did fucking hurt me like that.
Realizing I’d gone entirely too long without speaking, I drew in a breath and was about to blunder through some lame-ass excuse to get off the phone when he spared me.
“I’m sure we’re both really busy,” Alex said, clearing his throat. “So I’ll see you later, ok?”
“Yeah.” I rubbed the nape of my neck, trying not to overthink the next question out of my mouth. “You’re not on some weird fucking food cleanse, are you?”
He actually chuckled. “No. Not since I quit football in college.”
“K. I’ll set a plate aside for you tonight. It’s nothing special,” I added quickly. “All of the staff get dinner on the house, especially for weddings and bullshit holidays like this.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” If he was put out by my clarification, it didn’t seep into his tone. In fact, it sounded like he was still smiling on the other end, which was fucking weird considering our history. But, whatever. I didn’t have time to think about it because for once he was right, I was busy and I’m sure he was too now that I doubled his workload.
“Later,” I said, disconnecting before I slumped against the bar top and closed my eyes.
Goddamn him. Why did he have to be so nice? So easy-going?
Except, he wasn’t always nice. Sometimes he could be a real fucking asshole, like when he went off to college in Mississippi and didn’t look back. I went six years without seeing him. Not a phone call. Not a letter. Not even a goddamn friend request on social media. But then out of the blue, there he was at the grocery store, trying to hug me like old times, like he didn’t up and abandon me when our family fell apart.
Did I blame him for the divorce? Of course not. I blamed him for promising me nothing would change when everything changed. He said he’d always be there and then he wasn’t. After eleven years of being my rock, he was just… gone. His mom was gone. The house I’d grown up in was gone. It was me and the asshole sperm donor on our own until I threw a middle finger in the air and left it all behind, just like my mom did when she found out the asshole was cheating on her with the woman before Heather.
And now here I was, back in Middleton, trying to carve out a life for myself, trying to reclaim a piece of the security I felt before it had all been ripped away. Alex wasn’t supposed to be a part of it, but when shit hit the fan, he’s the one I ran to. Guess some things never changed.
“Hey boss, you ok?” Dane asked, picking the portable phone up from the bar and setting it back in its stand.
“Yeah,” I said, straightening and cracking my neck from side to side. “Spaced out for a bit. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”
4
ALEX
Valentine’s Day — 3:25 p.m.
Wiping the sweat from my forehead with the back of my arm, I expelled a short breath before hefting the final bucket of table arrangements into the back of the van.
Thank God my part-timer, Piper, had been able to come in for a few hours to help otherwise there was no way I would have gotten all of this done. But between the two of us, we knocked it out sooner than I thought we would.
I might have skimped on designing bouquets for the retail aspect of the business, but whatever. If someone waited until the day of to pick out flowers, I didn’t have much sympathy for the lack of selection. Besides, on a holiday like Valentine’s Day, you couldn’t really go wrong with roses and Lord knew with as many roses as I ordered there would be enough to last the rest of the night.
As soon as everything was loaded and secured, I drove to the end of the street and turned into the alley that ran behind Bramble. I didn’t have to guess which door belonged to the banquet hall—a series of other wedding professionals were in the process of unloading their equipment and schlepping it up the stairs.
I followed after them like a little worker ant, hauling buckets of carefully packed floral displays up and down the stairs until the van was empty.
Just as I was assessing the banquet hall and trying to decide which displays should go where, Aaron walked in and did a double take. I didn’t know if it was because of me or all the flowers. Either way, I couldn’t help but smile at the look of surprise on his face.
“Hey,” I said, snagging a vase with a towering fan of roses and lilies and centering it on the gift table.
“Hey,” he replied automatically, his gaze following me as I moved around, setting up more pieces on the tables. It reminded me of high school, the way I could sense him watching me during football games, despite the fact there were dozens of other people milling around.
He cleared his throat when I caught (and held) his curious stare and looked down at the pocket-sized notebook in his hand, scratching off something quickly, like he’d been in thought the whole time and not watching me specifically.
“Still carry one of those around, huh?” I nodded toward the notebook on my way by.
“Yeah.” He shoved it in his back pocket and gave me a look that said he didn’t want to talk about anything personal. “Where are the flowers for the wedding party?”
