Opposites Attract (The Locklaine Boys Book 2) (30 page)

THE WEEK THAT FOLLOWED
my ending things with Richard felt like it dragged on for an eternity. Each day was spent following the exact same routine. I woke up early, knowing Richard’s schedule, so I could leave for Flora before he was set to head out for work. I went through my every day in a daze, as if I spent every hour on autopilot. Doing my job while remaining detached from everything around me. I left Toni to close up every evening, knowing Richard usually got home around seven. I had to be home by five to ensure there wouldn’t be a run-in in the hallway or elevator.

I might have avoided actually seeing him at every turn, but at night, I lay curled up in bed, as close to the headboard as possible in the hopes of hearing him on the other side of the wall.

Shady, being too in tune with my mood, spent the week curled up close to me, whimpering and whining at any sound that passed through the wall. It was like he missed Richard just as much as I did. The poor little guy didn’t even have the desire to sniff the other dogs’ butts when I took him out for walks.

The door to Flora opened and I looked up just in time to see Devon walk in holding a garment bag. She gave me a pitying smile as she moving close. “You ready?”

Not in the least
, I thought as I rounded the counter at the same time Toni joined us. “Yeah. Let’s just get this over with. I’m already ready for this day to be over.” That was an unbelievable understatement. The three of us were on our way to Connecticut for Navie and Rowan’s wedding at his family’s estate — yes, I said
estate
. Like I wasn’t already fully aware that I was worlds apart from Richard. After the two-hour early morning trip, I would be spending the remainder of the morning and the early afternoon setting up all the flowers for the ceremony. The largest of the arrangements had already been put together in my shop and loaded into the back of the van for transport. Once there, Toni and I would put the finishing touches on everything.

I’d fully intended on driving back home as soon as I finished, but Navie wasn’t having any of it. She and Pepper had hounded me until I finally agreed to stay through the entire reception as their guest. They’d even gone so far as to bring Devon over to their side so she’d join forces with them. I eventually caved and agreed to stay for the entirety of the wedding, but I put my foot down when she tried to get me to agree to spend the night in one of the many rooms. No way in hell was I sleeping in the same house as Richard. I just couldn’t bring myself to do that.

Devon waved the garment bag at me and said, “Well, I have our dresses to change into once the dirty work’s finished, and I have to say, we are going to look
hot
.”

Toni crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. “I can’t believe I let you guys talk me into this. You know I
hate
weddings.”

I looked at her with an evil smile. “Yeah, well, if I have to suffer through this it’s only fair I have a posse around me. Besides, you know what they say. Misery loves company and all that stuff, so… suck it.”

The three of us hustled out of the shop, locked up and climbed into the van to start the two-hour drive to Hell.

I should have spent the entire drive psyching myself up to see Richard again. Instead, I spent the whole time wondering if he was missing me as badly as I was missing him.

JESUS, I COULDN’T REMEMBER
a time in my life when I’d been more exhausted. Six days. Six fucking days and I hadn’t gotten more than two hours of sleep each night since she ended things between us. I’d spent the entire week bouncing between being pissed off at her for ruining a perfectly good thing and missing her like I’d miss a goddamned limb.

Needless to say, I’d been in a bad fucking mood. And adding lack of sleep onto that just made it that much worse. How was it possible that in such a short amount of time I’d become addicted to the feel of her little body wrapped around mine at night? I’d never missed having Bree in my bed when I finally wised up and ended our marriage. But six nights without Delilah next to me, and I’d done nothing but toss and turn.

For God’s sake, I wasn’t even a cuddler! If you’d have asked me months ago, I would have told you I hated being confined while I slept. Now, I’d give anything to feel her back against my chest, feel the rise and fall of her breaths as she slept against me. I was pathetic. Every morning I’d hover around Devon’s desk, waiting for her to get in so I could ask about Delilah. How was she doing? Was she okay? Did she miss me? She hadn’t started looking for another guy who’d be able to give her the things she wants yet, had she? But the woman was a fucking vault. She refused to discuss Delilah with me, refusing to get in the middle of “whatever bullshit you two idiots are doing, since stupid is obviously contagious.”

Her exact words.

The only time I’d managed to get some semblance of an answer from her was when I asked if Del was going to be at the wedding. Her look said,
just how fucking dumb can you be
, as she answered with a vague, “She’s the florist, smart guy. What do you think?”

I still wasn’t quite sure if that was a definitive yes or not.

The door to my old bedroom opened and my mother flittered in, a ball of anxious energy that none of us could get to calm the hell down, no matter how hard we tried.

“Richard!” she cried, sucking in an affronted gasp as she clutched the pearls around her neck. “You haven’t even showered!”

“I have plenty of time,” I replied blandly. “It’s not like it takes me that long to get ready. The ceremony doesn’t start for another several hours.” I lifted the glass in my hand to my lips and sucked back some more of the amber-colored liquid.

“Good Lord! Is that…?” Mom stomped over to me in her designer heels and snatched the tumbler from my fingers, bringing it to her nose to take a whiff. “Oh God, son,” she cringed. “It’s not even noon yet and you’re drinking
whiskey
? So help me God, if you get drunk before your brother’s wedding, I’ll—”

Rowan chose that moment to walk through the door, hopefully having come to save me from my mother’s wrath. “Relax, Mom.”

“Relax?” she snapped, shoving the glass back toward me and propping her hands on her hips. “It’s the day of my son’s wedding, and my
other son
is moping in his room like a lovelorn teenager and downing whiskey first thing in the morning, and you want me to
relax
?” she finished on a shrill screech.

“You know what?” Rowan asked, the very definition of calm as he walked over and threw himself down on my bed like he didn’t have a care in the world, like he wasn’t about to sign his whole life away to a woman in just a matter of hours. “The caterers just showed up downstairs. You should go make sure they haven’t screwed anything up with the menu. You’re
so
good at that.” He shot our mom a boyish grin, pretending he wasn’t just trying to get rid of her before someone was forced to hog-tie her and lock her in the closet during the wedding.

“Oh! You’re right! I need to make sure everything’s perfect. The last thing we need is for them to serve pasta to Charlene Henderson.” She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “She claims she has an allergy to gluten, but I think she’s just looking for attention. That woman was always so narcissistic.”

I looked at the woman before me like she was insane — which was debatable. “Mom, wasn’t she hospitalized because of it once?”

She waved me off and started for the door. “Wouldn’t be surprised if she did it just so everyone would worry and fuss over her.”

“And you consider this woman a friend?” Rowan asked with a bewildered laugh. “Wow. I’d hate to see how you talk about your enemies.”

“Oh hush,” she chastised before turning to me. “And no more liquor. We can’t have your eyes looking bloodshot in the pictures.” Then she disappeared, gone to rain terror down on the poor, unsuspecting caterers.

I sat back on the couch on the other side of the room and brought the glass back to my lips, savoring the burn as the whiskey slid down my throat and heated my stomach.

Rowan cleared his throat, calling my attention to where he still lay on the bed. “At the risk of pissing you off even more than you have been, you look like shit, brother.”

I snorted and sucked back another swig. “At the risk of sounding like an asshole… go fuck yourself.”

He laughed good-naturedly as he climbed from the bed and walked over to join me on the couch, picking up the bottle of Crown Royal from the coffee table and taking a sip. “Shit,” he coughed. “Couldn’t you have at least pulled out the good stuff? It
is
my wedding day, after all.”

I chuckled and propped my feet up. “Mom keeps the fifty-year-old Scotch locked in the cupboard. I couldn’t find the fucking key.”

He swallowed another mouthful before looking back at me. “Seriously, though… are you okay?”

I let my head fall back on a heavy sigh, lifting my free hand to scrub at my face. No, I wasn’t okay. But it was my own fault, wasn’t it? I really didn’t have anyone to blame but myself. Instead of answering his question I asked one of my own, one that had been plaguing me ever since he proposed to Navie.

“How did you know you made the right decision? Proposing, I mean.”

Rowan stayed silent for so long I had no other choice but to lift my head and look at him. He stared straight ahead, deep in thought, before finally answering. “I just did.”

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “Thanks, brother. That really helps.”

He turned his gaze to mine, his identical features looking right back at me. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Rich. I just knew. I mean, I never thought I’d ever get married, but then I met her and… things just changed. I started looking at everything differently. I found myself actually considering a future that wasn’t full of random women whenever I felt like it. And I liked what I saw when I thought about a life with her.”

At his words,
considering a future
I felt my chest get tight. It hurt to breathe, but I needed to know more. Luckily, he was in a generous mood.

“At first, I thought it was because she made me happy, you know? Some of the shit she said, man,” he chuckled giving his head a slight shake, “it made me laugh, and I hadn’t laughed in a long fucking time. But the longer I was with her, I realized it was more than that.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, on the edge of my seat, literally and figuratively. Without even noticing, I’d scooted to the edge of the couch and placed the glass on the coffee table so I could rest my elbows on my knees.

He rubbed at his jaw as he considered his words. “Well, I realized it wasn’t about how
I
felt, so much as it was how
I
made
her
feel. The only thing I used to care about was myself, what I wanted, shit like that. But then she came along and I discovered that I woke up every single day asking myself what I could do to make
her
happy, to make
her
smile. Getting each one of those from her was more important than anything else. I started living each day strictly for
her
. That’s when I knew I needed her to be my wife. She’s the most important person in my life. She’s my best friend. She made me want to care about someone other than myself, and whatever makes her happy, makes me happy.”