Flawlessly Broken: (Broken Series Book 2) (37 page)

Spencer

CLAY MADE HIS
way across the room and nodded to the half-empty bottle on the table between Brant and I, slipping into the seat across from me as Brant slid around to the back of the horseshoe-shaped booth between us. “I see you two decided to wait.” He quirked a brow and lifted the bottle to inspect it.

Brant snickered softly and pointed at me. “His idea, dude. I was just being polite. Can’t let my boy drink alone, right?”

I ignored the pointed look Clay was giving me and flagged down our server for another glass. No one spoke until it had been delivered and we were once again alone in our darkened corner booth.

Clay sipped his bourbon and gave a nod of approval. “Not bad. It isn’t my usual brand but it’s decent.” He returned the glass to the table and flicked a glance my way. “So, I gather from all the drama that your little fling with Talia has come to an end.”

I shook my head to clear it. Why would he assume...? Right, the ‘girl emergency.’ I’d finally forced it all from my mind for a moment, fleeting as it was. Oh, fuck it. It was probably better that Clay already knew the deal. I shrugged absently and told him what he expected to hear. “Looks that way. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.”

“I bet.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and I realized for the first time that he looked worn, tired.

Brant noticed too, because he immediately said, “Damn, Clay. The haggard look doesn’t suit you. They working the shit out of you out there or what?”

“Something like that. Between the hours on site and time with the design team, I barely have any time to spend with Ali, much less help her prepare for the wedding. I think she is going to enlist Talia for a few more things because we may not finish up at the park until a few days before the wedding, a week if we’re lucky.”

The impulse to volunteer to help Talia was strong for about half a second, then the fist squeezing my heart reminded me that she wouldn’t want my help. Maybe Derek could be of assistance. I picked up my glass and drained it, dropping it to the table with more force than I intended before smiling meekly at the server who’d stared at me from across the bar with a wince.

Clay spoke up again. “Spence, are we going to have to rearrange shit to keep you and Talia from killing each other or can you play nice for the wedding? Well,
weddings.
.. Eileen finally got Ali to agree to a ‘traditional’ wedding here instead of just a reception but the Denson wedding is still on for the week before.” He pinned me with a stare. “Will I need a referee for you two?”

I scoffed at him, blowing out a breath and lying through my teeth. “Hardly. I’m not even upset by the whole thing. She isn’t either. We both knew it didn’t mean anything. Chances are, she’s just worried that our little tryst might have upset you and Ali. Best friends of the bride and groom, hooking up and adding unnecessary complications to an already stressful event.” I gave him my best staged smile. “We’re capable of being adults about it. She’s already moved on, back with the ex who has been hounding her the last few weeks.” I tried for a new topic. “Seems to me, if anyone was going to give you trouble at the wedding, it would be Lauren. Didn’t I hear that Ali invited her, at least to the one in Denson?”

Clay waved me off, unaffected. “Nothing to worry about there, she declined. She said she’d feel out of place, all things considered.” Like the fact that Lauren had been partially responsible for a lot of the bad shit that had happened to Ali the previous summer. Technically, she’d been blackmailed into it, but still. Ali was a better person than me. I never would have forgiven something like that. He focused on me again with narrowed eyes. “And don’t change the subject. We were discussing you and the maid of honor. You sure you’re good?”

I shrugged again, playing the part. “It’s really no big deal, man. It was just fucking. We all do it, and it doesn’t have to mean anything. You of all people know that.”

Clay didn’t say anything, just sat there watching me. After a while, he blew out a breath and smiled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Sorry for getting in your shit. I was just trying to gauge how much arguing I was going to have to do with Ali because you know damn well if it came down to it, if we had to choose sides, she and I would have been at odds over it.”

Brant had remained silent while I flat out lied to my best friend about the nature of my relationship with Talia but at Clay’s statement, he sat up and smirked. “Spencer knows that, don’t you Spence? You know Clay would never side against you, no matter what.”

Fucking smartass.

I nodded and shifted my attention back to Clay. “Wait, so if you’re going to be working right up until the wedding, when the hell are we supposed to have your bachelor party?”

He and Brant both frowned and glanced at each other for a second before turning back to me and raising their glasses, chanting in unison. “Right fucking now!”

I smirked at them and nodded. “Hell, yeah.”

Clay reached out and slapped my shoulder. “And now that you got that first post-divorce fling out of the way, it’s time to get you back on the whores.”

“Horse,” Brant corrected, chuckling into his glass and moving to exit the booth.

Clay shot him a look that suggested he was dense and slapped my back again, looking me straight in the eye. “I stand by my statement.”

I could only shake my head and smile.

Brant headed off to the men’s room and Clay’s jovial tone vanished.

“So, you’re sure you’re okay and this thing with Talia was no big deal?” He asked in an even voice, not necessarily prying, just checking in now that it was only the two of us.

“Yes. I’m fine. Everything is good,” I bit out, trying not to let my annoyance get the best of me. I didn’t want to think about this shit right now. There would be plenty of time for that later. A lifetime, actually.

He leveled his gaze at me, assessing. “And if I asked Talia, would she answer the same way?”

Without looking away from my glass I told him in a surprisingly steady voice, “Clay, she’s doing even better than I am at this point. Let it the fuck go.”

“Anything you say, Spence.” He watched me for a second longer and nodded toward the quickly-emptying bottle, thankfully changing the subject. “If we’re turning this into a bachelor party, we’re going to need more bourbon.”

“Lots more,” I added. “And one of those luggage carts to wheel our asses to our rooms later.”

Brant slipped back into the booth, fresh bottle in hand. “I thought we should stay ahead of the game so I grabbed a fresh supply,” he announced wryly.

Great minds think alike.

Heaven help the Hilton tonight.

Talia

HOW THE HELL
did I manage to get a hangover from two glasses of wine? That shouldn’t be possible, right?

Despite my initial intentions, I’d had very little to drink. After only one glass of wine, I’d felt myself beginning to slip back into my melancholy, so I stopped drinking, fooling Gina into thinking I was keeping up by barely sipping my second glass while she chattered on and kept us all laughing.

All in all, it hadn’t been a bad evening.

I peeked one eye open and took in my surroundings. Light, bright and blinding, streamed through the window sheers in my bedroom, making my head thump painfully.

My stomach was in knots that felt like a den of boa constrictors writhing and squeezing, the discomfort so acute I even felt it in my chest. What the hell? I thought back to the night before and did another quick inventory of what I’d done. Nope, just those two glasses, so it couldn’t be a hangover. I hadn’t eaten, so food poisoning was out.

Then why did I feel like hammered shit?

My mind flashed back to the last time my head hurt this much, the morning Spencer scared me while I was in the shower and I’d fallen, banging my head.

Spencer.

Oh God, the boa constrictors shifted to squeeze my heart so hard I fully expected it to burst. I pulled the covers over my head and curled up on my side, willing the pressure to subside so I could breathe.

This was no hangover. This was regret. Deep, consuming, caustic regret that was going to eat away at me for as long as I lived.

My head hurt from all the crying, both before and after going to the club. Ali had taken back her old room—texting Clay that she was staying with me for the night—and as soon as she’d turned in, I’d broken down. I cried for hours, knees hugged to my chest in the middle of my bed, alone.

I was alone. Again.

I’d gotten used to it over the years—chosen it—but Spencer had changed all that, and now I felt so adrift I wasn’t sure I’d ever make my way back.

Come Monday, Ali would be gone and I’d be rambling around the apartment like a damn ghost, trying not to drink myself into a stupor. And I’d thought the stress of seeing Derek again had been bad. What I was feeling now was so bone-deep and eviscerating that I genuinely feared I might shatter into a million pieces.

And it was all my fault.

Shit, shit, shit.

“T? You awake, hon?” Ali’s soft tap at the door made me groan. I could barely move, much less have a conversation.

The miserable sounds I was making must have penetrated the door, because she slowly opened it and stepped inside.

“Aww, sweetie. Hiding under there won’t help anything.” The bed shifted as she sat down beside me and touched my shoulder through the comforter. She squeezed gently and tried again. “Talia? You’re going to have to come out of there sometime, and I kind of need it to be now because we have somewhere to be.”

I grasped the edge of the comforter in one hand and folded it back to reveal one puffy, squinting eye. “We do?”

Her smile was full of sympathy, but her voice was firm as she nodded. “Yep. We do. Soon. So get your butt in the shower. I already have the coffee made and there are ibuprofen on the kitchen counter. All that crying last night probably has your head thumping this morning.” Of course she would know. How could she not? Even if she didn’t hear my sobs, she knew me better than anyone else, and she saw the devastation in my eyes even when I was trying my best to hide it.

“You’re not going away until I get up, are you?” I groused, trying to tug the covers back over my head.

She snatched the blanket completely off as she stood, rolling it up against her body with a stern expression. “Nope. I’m not letting you fall into old habits. No wallowing. Not today. Today is going to be a great day, if you will kindly get your ass out of that bed and trust me.”

I still had one eye closed against the harsh light but managed to meet her gaze with the other. “Best fucking bitches?”

“Best fucking bitches.” She nodded, reaching out a hand to help me up.

Because that’s what best fucking bitches do.

“WHY ARE WE
heading to the airport?” I looked at her suspiciously as she drove my Jetta like she stole it, weaving through traffic like a mad woman. “And slow your ass down before you get a ticket. What’s the hurry?”

“Someone,” she shot me a look that suggested
I
was that someone, “slept half the day away and took and inordinately long shower, so we have to hustle if we’re going to make it on time.”

“On time for what?” I persisted.

She just grinned.

I was starting to get a sneaking suspicion. “Oh, shit. Please tell me your mother isn’t flying in from some international shopping spree to join us for lunch or something.” I put a hand to my head. “Because I seriously need something stronger than ibuprofen for that.”

“No, it’s not the mother from hell, thank goodness. She’s off somewhere with Holden this weekend, plotting world domination between Botox appointments.”

Nice try at misdirection. “So then are we going somewhere? Because I need to know things like that up front.”

“Nope.” She considered a moment, brow pinching in thought. “You did take the entire week off, though, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but that has obviously changed and I plan to go back as soon as you leave on Monday, so don’t be getting any ideas for spontaneous travel.”

She laughed, making the turn into Reagan National Airport, and began the long, torturous task of finding parking. It was a Saturday, and the beginning of spring break for most people, to boot. Packed wasn’t the word for it. The Washington and Lincoln memorials were visible as we circled, both looking small and solitary across the Potomac. Despite the fact that beaches got the majority of spring breakers, the area was in for a huge influx of travelers and that was great for Canary.