Loose End: A One Night Stand Prequal Novella

1. June

ONE

I don’t knowhow I should feel on my wedding day, but I should be feeling something. Right?

I’m literally standing here in the puffiest wedding dress ever made and while it may not have been my first choice, I can’t deny the fact that I look like I just walked right off the page of a fairytale. I’d do anything to make my sister happy, and she fell in love with this dress the second I tried it on, which is why I’m wearing this to begin with.

And yes, before you ask, there’s even a sparkly crown sitting on top of my perfectly styled hair. Can’t be a princess without it.

The clock is ticking, and there’s only a handful of minutes between me and the rest of my life. Just a short walk down the aisle and I’ll be married. I’ll have the happy ever after that so many people are desperate to find. This should be the happiest day of my life. So, why do I feel so blah?

“Umm, June. We have a bit of a problem.” Poppy, my sister and best friend, sticks her head into the bridal suite, her voice soft yet tentative. I’m sure the smile she gives me is meant to be reassuring, but it’s not. “Have I told you how much I love you in that dress?”

“Poppy?” I turn away from the full-length mirror, the ridiculous layers upon layers of white tulle swishing around my legs. “What kind of problem?”

She doesn’t answer right away, just hovers in the doorway, wringing her hands and gnawing on her bottom lip. It must be bad. She takes a small step toward me, gesturing to the skirt still moving back and forth. I swear this thing has a mind of its own, but right now, it’s the least of my worries. “The dress really does look amazing.”

“Poppy.”

“Well…” She twists her hands in front of her frilly candy pink dress—another Poppy pick. She’s digging at her French manicure which is never a good sign, and she’s already chewed the lipstick off her lower lip.

She’s stalling and we both know it, but while she’s admiring the beaded corset, my brain is running a mile a minute.

Did Uncle Frank decide to have an early sample of the wedding cake like he did at our cousin Muriel’s wedding? Were the live flowers homing a colony of bees that are now attacking the guests? Is my mom drunk already?

Sweet baby Jesus. She’s probably drunk and yelling at my dad—aka her ex-husband.

Oh, fuck…

Wait.

Can I think the word ‘fuck’ in a church? Fuck, I should have learned all the Catholic rules. Shit, I thought it again. Shit, now I’m thinking ‘shit,’ too.

I’m getting married in a church because it makes Paul’s family happy, and now I’m going to get… smited?...is that the word?... all because my mother-in- law wanted a church wedding for her little boy.

There’s a problem at my wedding and I’m going to Hell.

“Poppy, you’re freaking me out. What is it?” I reach up to run my hand through my hair but then I remember how many hours it took to get my hair into this intricate updo and, of course, the crown, can’t forget that.

“Paul’s missing.”

“What?” I shriek.

Poppy looks at the ground. The ceiling. Around the small church bridal suite. Everywhere but back at me. “According to Teddy,” her long-term idiot of a boyfriend, “Paul ran off as soon as he got his tux on and no one’s seen him since. The wedding planner was getting ready to start the ceremony, but…he’s gone.”

“What?” I repeat, this time whipping around the room—opening drawers, digging through my bags, glancing in the trash, looking for…well, I don’t exactly know what I’m looking for since my phone and my purse were taken away and put who knows where. A sheet. A bag. A pillowcase. An old Halloween mask. There was one I had of Bill Clinton I bought for a party a few years ago.

I know, not exactly helpful right now, but if I’m going to be searching the whole church, I need to hide my face. Or my whole body.

Or do I?

If you can’t find the groom does it even matter if he’s not supposed to see me before the wedding?

I freeze and despite my earlier trepidation, my blood runs cold. Oh, God. What if he decided he doesn’t want to get married to me? What if he just left?

My mom would love that. As a cut throat divorce attorney, she’s always been against the institution of marriage. And love. And happiness in general.It’s no wonder things didn’t work out between my parents.

Crap on a cracker, here I am thinking about my mom when I should be focused on Paul. I hope he’s okay and not passed out somewhere. This is so unlike him.

Paul doesn’t cause drama, he’s not an attention seeker. He doesn’t get excited about…well, anything. He’s just Paul. Which I know makes him sound like a glorified house cat, but he’s always been there for me. He’s been my rock all the way through college, and we love each other. Right? Right. I love Paul.

Poppy grabs my arms and swivels me around to face her, keeping me from emptying the trash can like a rabid—but also sparkly—raccoon. “I need you to stop, June. Take a breath.” She inhales dramatically. “Now let it out.”

“I know how to breathe.” My words are jumbled together, and while yes, I know how to breathe, I do what she says.

“Of course you do.” She gives me a slight shake, rising up on her tiptoes to look me straight in the eyes. “I need you to calm your fucking tits before you jump on the crazy train and take it all the way to Brentwood Sanitorium. What are you looking for? I don’t think Paul is in this room, let alone the trash can.”

I take in a deep breath, this time on my own, and glance around the small space. “I know he’s not here. I was looking for something to cover my face so I can go look for him.”

Her lips twitch like she’s trying not to laugh at me, confirming my ridiculousness. A pillowcase is a stupid idea. I wouldn’t be able to see out of it unless I also found a pair of scissors. “You could put your old shirt over your head and peer out the armhole, but I think that might ruin your hair.”

With a gasp, my hands fly up to my hair and I straighten the crown. There are so many curls, twists, braids and bobby pins and no way would I be able to fix it.

If there even is still a wedding.

“Maybe he’s in the bathroom? He’ll sometimes eat Thai food that’s a little too spicy and that gives him the…you know.” I gesture to my stomach and grimace. “Maybe he had something for dinner last night that didn’t agree with him.”

“Gross. I didn’t want to know that about Paul. Come on, we need to meet up with the rest of the wedding party.”

Right. The wedding party. My two youngest sisters and Paul’s golf buddies from college who will all be judging me and wondering what I did to scare off the groom.

Which by the way, is a big fat nothing.I’m perfectly pleasant.

Maybe he needs a breather.

It’s normal to get cold feet. He probably felt some of what I was feeling earlier and escaped to a bathroom for a few minutes to clear his head. It’ll all be fine. We’ll find him, and the wedding will go off without a hitch.

Easy peasy.

Next week I’ll be laughing about this. Right? Right?

Poppy clutches my hand in hers and we sneak out of the bridal suite, passing the alcove leading to the main part of the church. The room where all our friends and family are waiting patiently while listening to the string quartet. My mom’s out there so patient is a bit of a stretch, but you know what I mean.

We make our way past the front entrance, where the door appears tightly closed. Surely, he wouldn’t take the time to do something as trivial as closing a door if he was running out of here like the church was on fire. Which means he’s got to be inside. Or at least that’s what the rational side of my brain thinks.

As we pass the coat closet, I hear a thump followed by a muted curse. I stop dead in my tracks and drop Poppy’s hand. I did hear that, right?

I glance at Poppy, her brows are drawn together and the intense way she stares at the door tells me I’m not alone in what I heard. Silence fills the air once again, but I can’t drop my gaze from the brass doorknob. I don’t know if I’m waiting for it to turn from the other side or if it’s waiting for me to find the courage within myself to open the door and find what or who is on the other side.

It could be nothing.

Or it could very much be something.

There are no accidents, at least not in my world. Ever since Poppy beat cancer, I’m a firm believer that things happen for a reason, even the bad things. The bad things bring you closer to the people you love. They help you learn and grow.

And right now, my gut is telling me not to walk away. It’s telling me I need to see what’s behind this closed door.

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” Poppy grabs my hand and gives me a slight tug, but as a muffled moan comes from the closet, I stay firmly in place.

Its deep baritone sounds nothing like Paul, and I force out a breath. It’s probably just a guest getting his rocks off before the wedding. I turn to head down the hall with the groom’s suite, but before I can take a step, Poppy lunges to the closet door and throws it open.

H.O.L.Y. Shit.

I gasp, my hand flying to cover my mouth as it drops open. I don’t want to look. I don’t want to see this. But I can’t seem to tear my gaze away from a man that looks a lot like Paul, on his knees in front of the best man—his best freaking man—actively sucking his dick and if the sounds are any indication, giving it hell.

Paul is facing away from the door so I can’t see his face as his head bobs and weaves around his friend’s cock, but I know it’s him. His dark brown hair is slicked back in his signature style and his ears are a bit too big for his head. Mark, the best man, has his head tilted toward the heavens, a faint smile across his face, and holds onto those ears for dear life. His hips thrust and as they do, his head tilts down, his eyes finally meeting mine and opening wide.

I still haven’t moved. I’m not sure if I’ve even breathed.

I’m rooted to this spot and Poppy is no better, hovering by my side, crushing my fingers in a death grip.

With a string of curses, Mark jumps back, his dick now fully exposed and glistening with wetness from Paul’s mouth. He makes no attempt to tuck himself back into his pants, he just keeps backing up until his body is plastered to the back of the closet.

The man on his knees gets up slowly and turns to face me. My stomach drops and twists in a knot so tight bile creeps up the back of my throat.

“June…” Paul takes a step toward me, but I take one back, pulling Poppy with me.

I need to get away from him. Away from the lies. Away from the man I thought he was and a step closer to the front door.

“June bug, please…”

“No.” I chop the air with a shaky hand, effectively cutting him off. “Don’t you dare try to placate me right now. I know all the lines. It’s not what it looks like. It’s not you, it’s me. We don’t have time for bullshit.” My voice raises several octaves. “We’re supposed to be getting married any minute.” I take a deep breath and Poppy gives my hand a squeeze. “How long has this been going on?”

Paul glances back to Mark who’s all zipped up, but his eyes are still wide and he blanches at my question.

“Two years.” Paul sighs, buttoning his top button and tightening his tie.

I want to be surprised at the situation. I want to yell. I want to throw a fit that would rival that of a three-year-old in the Target toy aisle.

But I can’t.

First, because I’m a lady and all my friends and family are a very short distance away. And two, while this news is certainly shocking, especially on my wedding day, it makes a lot of things click into place. It’s not that Paul isn’t excitable, he’s just not excited by me.

I’m so stupid.

How did I not notice this sooner?

No wonder he was hardly ever in the mood for sex. It would explain all his trips with the boys. And the many times he insisted on going out by himself when his friends got together. He always told me the girlfriends were staying at home and I’d just make it weird.

Holy cannoli, I dated a man who liked other men for almost four years and had no idea.None.

“I didn’t know how to tell you.” Paul’s voice cracks as he extends a hand toward me before dropping it and letting it fall to his side. “I didn’t know how to tell anyone about this. About me.”

I take another step back, the tulle winding around my ankles, reminding me that I’m supposed to be walking down the aisle and getting married any minute now.

Or at least I was.

Paul glances down at my dress, taking in the giant glittery skirt, the beaded corset and finally the actual crown on my head. “You look beautiful, June bug.” He brushes a hand through the slick strands of his hair before his gaze volleys between Poppy and I. “Can we…can we talk about this later? We have almost four hundred people waiting for us inside.”

A small laugh escapes my lips.

Four hundred people. Four hundred people. Is he really suggesting what I think he is?

Before I can ask him what exactly he thinks I’m going to be doing, Poppy drops my hand, jumping between us. Her hands are firmly planted on her hips and I don’t need to see her to know she’s staring him down with everything she’s got. “Four hundred people, huh? Well, you know what? That doesn’t sound like it’s June’s problem anymore.”

Paul leans to the side and looks at me over Poppy’s shoulder. “June?”

I haven’t even begun to wrap my head around this whole situation. But Poppy’s right; this wedding is no longer my problem. It’s time for Paul to put on his big boy pants and come clean to everyone.

And me? Well, I need a big fat drink.

“I’m very sorry, Paul. Maybe we can talk about all this in a few days after I”ve had time to process,” I wave my hands around the two of them, “this development. Just tell me—was any of it real?”

His shoulders slump and his gaze falls to the floor. “I’m sorry.”

And there’s the final nail in the coffin. The last four years of my life have been nothing but a facade. My chest heaves as I struggle to take a breath and…I just can’t stand here any longer.

Poppy yanks on my arm as I take a step back.

And then another.

She catches me with her gaze and gives me those sad puppy dog eyes I can’t resist. “What do you need?”

“Poppy, I’m sorry. I can’t do this right now. Please tell Mom and Dad I’ll call them in a few days.” I pry her grip from my arm, my eyes darting between her, Paul and his best man…or whatever he is. “I wish you would have told me before we got here,” I say softly.

Paul’s eyes flare with something that looks like shame and for a moment, I’m tempted to tell him it’s ok, that I understand.

But gay, bi, or straight, he was cheating on me. He’s admitted to at least two years of betrayal.

Unshed tears burn in the corners of my eyes but I refuse to let them fall, not here. Not in front of him and his boyfriend.

Without another word, I spin on my heel and march my sparkly fluffy self out the front of the church straight into a steady drizzle. At least it’s not pouring. I’ll just look like a lukewarm mess instead of a hot one.

Now to find a cab. That shouldn’t be too hard to find in downtown Nashville, or at least it wouldn’t be if I had my phone and my purse.

Dang it.

My phone, my purse, and pretty much everything else is still inside the church. Well, everything but the overnight bag I dropped off at the hotel earlier.

I release a heavy sigh, my shoulders falling at the thought of going back inside the church. I really don’t want to go back in because I know if I do, I’ll feel bad and stay to help Paul get everything sorted.

For once, I don’t want to be the responsible one. I don’t want to be the one everyone leans on. I don’t want to have to smile in everyone’s face and pretend I’m okay, that this is okay.

With a bit of desperation, I look toward the bumper-to-bumper traffic. Scanning the streets in every direction. Not a cab or ride share in sight. Just when I’m about to tuck my tail between my legs and go back inside, Poppy runs out, catching me on the stairs outside the church, and thrusts my giant purse into my arms.

“I’m so glad I caught you. I was laying into Paul and Mark when I realized you didn’t have your money or ID. You better go, Paul is talking to Mom, and she looks fifty shades of pissed. Don’t worry, I’ll run a little interference with the parents while you’re gone. I love you. Be safe. Call me when you are ready to talk.” She pulls me into a quick hug before spinning me by the shoulders and pushing me away from the church and the mess that’s ensuing inside.

“I love you too,” I call over my shoulder. This day may have turned into a disaster but at least I have Poppy. She always seems to know what I need and what I need right now is to have alone time to think and process.

A vodka soda wouldn”t hurt either.

The rain lets up, the closer I get to the street, and still I’ve yet to see a cab. Although with how packed the streets are, even if I had one, we wouldn’t be going anywhere soon. Odd. There wasn’t nearly this much traffic on the way to the church.

And that’s when I notice the face paint, the car flags, and the endless sea of jerseys.

Dang it. I totally forgot about the Nashville Aces football game night. Normally I don’t follow football or care for the sport at all, but my dad suggested we check the schedule before we booked the venue.

Between the wedding and the reception, the game would have been over hours before anyone needed to leave the church and the event hall next door.

Too bad I can’t click my glittery shoes together and go somewhere nice. Maybe less rainy and more sunny.

I take a deep breath, sling my purse over my shoulder, and hike up my dress.

A little rain isn’t going to stop me.

A football game won’t either.