Hitched (2 page)

Allie signaled for another shot.

“Come on, Allie, dance with us.” Bernice, her annoying cousin and one of her bridesmaids, tugged on her arm. “We’re making requests. You have to dance with us to this one.”

It was Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies”. Great. The perfect prewedding song, Allie thought sarcastically.
If you like it…

Josh definitely liked her. He had since he was ten and she was seven. Liking wasn’t the problem. Common goals, plans for the future, family dynamics, sharing a general life philosophy—none of those were problems either.

Allie looked longingly at the empty shot glass on the bar. Matt hadn’t refilled it yet, but that bar stool was a lot closer to the bottle than the dance floor was.

She made herself turn away from Matt and face the women who would be standing next to her tomorrow. Bernice, Crystal, Joanna and even Greta were already dancing. Actually, Greta was standing in the middle of the dance floor looking like she wanted to be anywhere else. But that made sense. Not only were the other girls being obnoxiously happy and annoyingly fun, but Greta was Josh’s younger sister and didn’t really know the other women well. Allie was pretty sure Greta was there only because Bernice had
insisted.
Bernice was good at that.

The other three squealed with delight as Allie moved onto the floor, bouncing up and down and singing the lyrics at the top of their lungs.

Oh, lord. Squealing bridesmaids, Beyoncé and tequila were not a good combination. Allie pressed her hand against her stomach as it pitched in response to the hip swivel she attempted. She took the boogying down a notch and just mouthed the words.

Thankfully, the song eventually switched to something slower.

The other girls had had a bit to drink as well, and they linked their arms and started swaying, again singing along to Shania Twain’s “You’re Still The One”. Allie let them link her into the circle and she swayed with them, closing her eyes and thinking about the words.

You’re still the one…

Stupidly, she felt her eyes stinging. Maybe she’d had enough tequila after all. She shouldn’t be feeling lonely and sad. It was the night before her wedding. These girls were here with her, celebrating the biggest day of her life. Her house was filled with family and friends, getting ready for the next day. Somewhere a man was sitting with his friends, preparing to stand up in front of everyone they knew and loved and say that he’d spend the rest of his life with her. A good man. A wonderful man. A man any woman would be privileged to share her life with.

You’re still the one…

Josh deserved better. He deserved better than a woman who was sitting in a bar, listening to a love song and thinking about someone else.

She should
not
be thinking about Gavin.

Allie took a deep breath, opened her eyes and smiled at her bridesmaids.
Brides
maids. She was going to be a bride. She was getting married.

Okay, she could do this. It was a good thing. A great thing. She was a very lucky woman.

“Josh is a great dancer,” she said to Bernie. “Did you know that?”

“I’ll bet.” Bernie waggled her eyebrows.

He was. He was tall and when they slow danced, she could rest her head on his chest. His big hands easily spanned her low back, making her feel feminine and cared for. He had great rhythm, and his powerful thighs pressed firmly against hers because he always held her really close. That was just the kind of thing that should make a woman want to get even closer.

Dammit.

There was that word again—
should
.

“Greta, is there anything Josh isn’t good at?” Allie asked, looping her arm around Josh’s sister.

She was Allie’s maid of honor, even though the girls didn’t know one another well. Well, they
knew
each other of course—their families had been friends forever and spent lots of weekends and most holidays together—but Greta was younger and Allie had always had Josh as a confidante. It wasn’t like the girls had shared any deep dark secrets.

Greta was the best choice for maid of honor, though. Their mothers had been best friends, and Josh and Greta’s mom, Sophie, had taken Lily’s death as hard as anyone. Truthfully, she’d been a mess. Her longtime battle with depression didn’t help, and Allie and Josh had talked extensively about ways to get her through the hard time. Allie had always considered Sophie a second mom and seeing her so distraught tore at Allie’s already aching heart. Just like she was doing for her dad and brothers, Allie was intent on helping Sophie smile again. So far, planning a wedding where Sophie’s son was the groom and her daughter was maid of honor was working very nicely.

Greta lifted her shoulder at Allie’s question about her brother. “Josh has always been good at everything.”

Yep, that was exactly right. Josh was nearly perfect. The guy didn’t even snore.

Crystal approached with a small tray laden with shot glasses. “Let’s toast!” she said with a grin.

That was a fantastic idea. At the moment, Crystal was her favorite bridesmaid. Hands down.

Allie wasn’t sure of the wisdom of mixing tequila with the pink stuff Crystal had brought, but hey, it was liquor. It wasn’t like she was going to be feeling great in the morning anyway.

She tipped the sweet concoction back and swallowed. Oh, yeah, that was good.

Her head spinning nicely, she looped her arm around Bernie’s neck. “Thanks for picking out the dresses.”

Bernie laughed. “When you still hadn’t picked anything out and we were only a month away, someone had to do something.” Bernie patted Allie on the head. Like a puppy. “Sometimes it’s just easier to let someone else do it. I don’t mind.”

The dresses were god-awful. Allie had overheard Greta, Josh’s sister, refer to them as
Gone With The Wind
dresses, and she couldn’t disagree. Scarlett would have swooned at the sight of them, for sure. But Allie had been simply unable to look at another one after the fortieth. None were right. None felt good.

The song switched to another sappy love song, and Allie felt her eyes welling again. She really loved this song. She couldn’t remember what it was called, but she loved it.

Humming and swaying with her eyes closed again, Allie thought about the man she loved. She was going to walk down the aisle tomorrow and the man at the end of the aisle was strong and charming, intelligent, wonderful. He had dark hair, brown eyes. He also had a smile that made her heart melt and when he ran his hands down her back and grabbed her ass she…

Her eyes flew open. Dammit. She really had been thinking about Josh. Or trying. But her thoughts slipped so easily to Gavin.

Crap.

She looked around, spotted Crystal and stumbled toward her friend. “I need another drink.”

Crystal grinned. “Okay, let’s do a blow job.”

Allie started to clarify, but Crystal grabbed her hand and towed her to the bar. A moment later, a shot glass filled with a creamy brown mixture and topped with whipped cream appeared magically before her.

Whipped cream was a good sign.

Allie shot the drink back, sighing happily as the sweet liquid went down.

“You like a good blow job once in a while?” Matt asked with a wink.

“Of course,” she said, winking back. Or at least she thought she winked. She might have blinked at him instead. She giggled and Matt laughed.

“Josh is a lucky guy,” he said.

Yeah, Allie thought. Josh was a lucky guy. She was quite a catch.

She stumbled as she turned and started back for the dance floor.

“Whoa, babe.” Crystal caught her by both elbows. “You okay?”

“I’m great!” Allie announced. She was sure her words sounded slurred only because it was so loud in here. “I’m getting married tomorrow!”

Crystal laughed. “I heard that somewhere.”

“And he’s the best,” Allie insisted. She pivoted and grabbed a beer from the waitress as she passed.

“He is, definitely,” Crystal agreed.

Allie drank, then shuddered, then spread her arms wide. “Gavin is the only man I’ll ever want.”

Crystal froze, her eyes widening. She was still holding on to to one of Allie’s arms, which was fortunate because Allie felt a little off-balance.

“Al?” Crystal said, getting closer so she could lower her voice. “What did you just say?”

Allie frowned at her. “I said Josh is the best.”

“And then you said
Gavin
is the only man you’ll ever want.”

Allie shook her head. “No. That’s not funny.”

Crystal squeezed her arm. “I know. It’s really not funny. What are you talking about?”

Dammit. She should have never pulled that letter out last night. Allie closed her eyes and groaned. She’d been so pissed at him, so hurt. Her mom had died, it was absolutely the blackest time of her life and Gavin hadn’t even called. He certainly hadn’t showed up. He hadn’t done a damned thing.

Then two weeks after the funeral she got a letter. Handwritten. Seeing his writing again had made her
almost
crack. She’d been holding everything together just fine. She hadn’t cried, she hadn’t broken down, she hadn’t thrown anything, she hadn’t told anyone to just leave her the fuck alone and quit asking if she was all right. She’d been composed and calm, she’d gotten everything taken care of, she’d gotten
everyone
taken care of.

She’d been fine. Until that letter came.

She’d
almost
lost it.

Instead, she’d read it once, folded it up and stuck it in her bedside table under some old CDs and a box of stationary. Then she’d forgotten about it.

Except that wasn’t true. She’d pulled it out three times. She’d put it back without reading it twice. But last night she hadn’t been able to resist. She’d read it. Four times.

And now he was so on her mind that she was screwing everything up. Of course.

“I didn’t mean it,” she told Crystal, shaking her head.

Allie immediately regretted that. Her head swam and she grabbed Crystal to keep from tipping over. She should have worn flats tonight instead of the high-heeled boots.

“Allie, you just…you can’t be thinking about him,” Crystal said. “What about Josh?”

“It’s normal for people to think about their exes,” Allie told her, hoping it was true. “We’re getting married. That’s a huge deal. It’s natural to think about your past relationships. I’ll bet Josh is thinking about Devon.”

Devon Grant was Josh’s most serious ex. He’d been completely in love with her. If she had been willing to move to Promise Harbor, he’d be married to her right now. For sure.

Devon and Allie had been as close as sisters at one time. In fact, Devon had met Josh through Allie. Allie had been thrilled that her two best friends had fallen in love.

And then real life and obligations and divergent paths had come between Josh and Devon too.

She didn’t know every detail about their breakup. Josh hadn’t wanted to talk about it, and Allie and Devon had drifted apart when things had gotten bad with her mom and things had gotten bad with Gavin…and things had just gotten bad.

In the end, it seemed to Allie that she and Josh just weren’t destined for true love forever.

So they had each other. As always. It seemed fitting in many ways that they would end up together. She couldn’t remember a Christmas dinner or a birthday celebration without him. So why
wouldn’t
she agree to spend those events with him for the rest of her life?

They were…comfortable. They could completely be themselves. There were no secrets. They loved each other. Maybe not madly and passionately, but they had each other’s backs. That was more than a lot of couples could say.

“Even if he is, he’s probably not announcing it to the bar. You need to take it down a notch,” Crystal said with a frown. “Let’s go dance.”

Allie went along, mostly because Crystal was still holding on to her and Allie wasn’t sure she could stay upright on her own. She drank more of the beer and liked that it was more bitter than the blow job or the pink stuff. She was feeling a little bitter herself.

She drank again, swaying to yet another love song. This one was “Amazed”, by Lonestar. Her bridesmaids were just going down the list of the sappiest love songs of all time. But she found herself singing along. And thinking of Gavin. They’d danced to this song.

They’d gone to high school together. They’d graduated in the same class and had known each other. The harbor wasn’t big enough to not know everyone in your graduating class. They’d even flirted.

He and Jason Simpson had sat behind her and Devon in chemistry senior year. He’d cut in on her date at the homecoming dance and at prom. Every weekend from January until May he’d asked her to a party. She’d always said no.

But he’d never asked her out on a real date. Which was fine. She would have said no to that too. He was a bad boy, a rebel. She was a good girl who followed all the rules. He dated casually, if at all, and was just out for a good time. She dated nice boys, one at a time, and never did more than French kiss.

It was so cliché—the good girl fascinated by the bad boy—it was pathetic.