Chapter Ten The Wedding Invitation
After over a week of no contact with Mirabelle, Bastian was heading to Mirabelle’s condo for the fifth time since she left. He had been unable to stop himself from going in whenever he drove past her building. Part of him hoped he would find something he’d missed the previous time that would tell him where she went, and part of him hoped she had cooled off, had time to think and come home ready to hash things out with him. Marie had told him Mirabelle would be home late Sunday night, and when it passed dinner time Monday with no word from her, his limited patience ran out, and he drove to her place on his way home from shopping for computer systems for the office.
He pulled into the underground parking and saw her car in its spot; he pulled in beside it and was about to turn off the engine and go in when his phone rang. He frowned when the caller ID showed it was a sports bar about halfway between his condo building and Mirabelle’s, which he went to fairly frequently to watch MMA fights. He almost sent it to voicemail, but something told him he’d better answer. “Hello?”
“Bast? That you?” a voice he instantly recognized as belonging to Myles, his favourite bartender at the bar, came over the car’s speakers.
“Yeah, Myles, it’s me.” Bastian frowned. “What’s up?”
“Oh good, I was hoping it was you; I mean, how many Bastians can there be?” He chuckled awkwardly, and when Bastian didn’t respond, he continued hurriedly. “Um, yeah, so I have your friend Mira here, and she’s pretty drunk. I cut her off and asked if there was someone who could come get her, and she gave me your name and number.”
“I’ll be there in five.” Bastian hung up and pulled out of the parking garage quickly. Mirabelle being cut off for being too drunk raised all kinds of concerns. She wasn’t a drinker, neither of them were, but while Bastian enjoyed well-aged scotch occasionally, Mirabelle usually abstained completely, drinking tea or water and electing herself as the designated driver. So, for her to be so drunk that she was cut off was extremely out of character.
Bastian walked into the bar and spotted Myles at the far end, talking to the woman he had been told he needed to pick up. Seeing her giggling with Myles, Bastian felt a mixture of deep relief and anger wash over him. Myles looked up, saw him, and held up a finger. He said something to Mirabelle and then came down to speak to Bastian.
“Hey, Bast, I'm really glad you got here so quickly.”
“No problem, Myles; thanks for calling me and letting me know she was here.” Bastian couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was swaying slightly on the stool, a half-empty glass of some kind of mixed drink in front of her. When Myles walked away, her cheerful expression faded, and she stared sadly down into the glass, twirling it slowly in a circle between her hands. “Did she say anything about what's wrong?”
“Something about a wedding and an asshole.” Myles glanced at her over his shoulder, then looked back at Bastian. “When I came on shift an hour ago, she was already pretty drunk. She was definitely overserved, and I let the other bartender have it about that. It took me a while to convince her to let me call someone to pick her up. It was only when I asked her to touch her nose, and she couldn’t, that she agreed to it and gave me your name and number.”
“Okay,” Bastian nodded slowly. He was pretty sure he was the asshole she was referring to but wondered what she meant by a wedding. “I'll take care of her, no worries. Want to get me her bill?”
“Sure.” Myles nodded and went to ring her up as Bastian went down the bar and came to a stop next to his favourite person, relieved that even if he was the asshole she was referring to, she still asked for him.
“Is this seat taken?” He asked quietly, hoping she wouldn't freak out when she saw him and tell him to go away. To his surprise, when she heard his voice, she turned and absolutely lit up when she saw him.
“Bastian! Oh my god, you came!” Mirabelle stood up and stumbled to him, practically falling into his arms, her arms wrapping around his neck as she caught herself.
“Of course I did, Mira.” Bastian wrapped his arms around her quickly, holding her up and hugging her tightly. “I was told you were drunk off your ass and had to come to see for myself.”
Mirabella pulled back from him, her eyes, which reminded him of the deep blue-grey-green colour of stormy ocean waves, filling with tears. “You came because you wanted to see me drunk?” She pushed herself off him and unsteadily sat back down. “Seats taken.”
“Mira...” Bastian frowned; he had forgotten how mercurial her moods were when she was drunk, the slightest perceived insult causing her to get upset. “I was joking. I came because I was worried about you. You've been MIA for a week, and then I get a phone call from Myles saying you're incredibly drunk at a bar down the street and need me to come to get you.”
“Uh-huh.” She leaned forward, resting her forearms on the bar and putting her head down on them. “Worried.”
“I'm serious!” He pulled out his phone and pulled up his call history. “I've been calling you every chance I got to see if you'd unblocked me. I've been to your condo hoping you’d come home and searched it four times hoping I missed something that would tell me where you went!” Bastian reached out and tucked a strand of hair that had escaped from her braid behind her ear. “And I'm both so angry at you for the constant state of worry you had me in and so, so relieved that you're okay.” He gently ran his fingers over her cheek and waited for her to look at his phone. “Come on, Bunny, let me take you home.”
Mirabella looked at his phone for a minute, and he could see she was struggling to process everything. “You searched my apartment?”
“Four times.” Bastian sat beside her and nodded, smiling sheepishly. “I know you're upset with me, and you have every right to be, but I wanted to find you to beg for your forgiveness.” He cupped her cheek, trying to convey how sorry he was with his eyes. “I'm so sorry, Mira, but I swear I can explain everything if you want me to.”
“Wait, you're right. I am upset with you.” She frowned and pulled away from him. “You're an ass. Was she worth it? Are you a baby daddy again?”
“I told you, I didn't sleep with her,” Bastian folded his arms and bit back an angry retort. He hated that Mirabelle thought he would be stupid and desperate enough to screw around with Kelly, but he knew it was the alcohol talking. “But no, she wasn't worth it. I had to buy a new mattress, rug, and comforter set because she vomited on everything.”
“Sounds awful. But that’s what you get for being a pushover.” Mirabelle rolled her eyes and downed what was left in her glass. Bastian winced when he saw she was drinking something that was clearly loaded with sugar, which meant she was going to be sick later. “Hey, Myles!” She called down the bar. “Are you gonna get me another drink?”
“I'll give you some water.” Myles came down and smiled gently at her. “You've had enough; you need to go home and sleep it off.” He passed Bastian her bill and a POS machine. Bastian quickly paid and saw she only had three drinks. He wondered how many she had before she settled up with the previous bartender. He glanced over to see Mirabelle pouting as Myles put a glass of water in front of her.
“I'm not that drunk.” She muttered grumpily as Myles took the POS back from Bastian, handed him the receipt, said goodnight and walked away, leaving Bastian to wonder how he was going to convince her to get in his car so he could take her home.
“Bunny—” he started, but she held up her hand, and he stopped talking with a small sigh.
“Don't call me that,” she said abruptly. “That's what Bastian calls me when he loves me, and he doesn't anymore.” She said it with such conviction that Bastian felt his stomach drop. Did she really believe he didn’t love her?
“I do love you, Mira.” He protested, his voice rising in his frustration. “I’ve always loved you.”
“Love doesn't exist.” She mocked his voice, and he felt his hand tighten into a fist. How long was she going to hold that against him? “If it did, you wouldn't have treated me like that. Fucking Disney.” She grumbled, clearly annoyed that her long-held beliefs about the Disney happy ending had been destroyed. “In real life, the beast doesn't change.”
“Mira, please let me take you home.” Bastian pleaded with her, desperately trying to shift her focus so he could get her out of the bar. “We'll talk there.” Mirabelle huffed and looked like she was about to refuse, but then she swayed and closed her eyes. Bastian had a feeling the room had started to spin for her, something that frequently had happened when she got drunk.
“Okay,” She swallowed and nodded, still swaying. “You can take me home.”
Bastian grinned as relief washed over him, and he stood up, offering her his hand. “Good. I was afraid I was gonna have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here caveman style.” A small smile crossed Mirabelle’s face, and she quickly hid with a frown. Then she took his hand. He helped her to her feet and put his arm around her waist, holding her up and guiding her out of the bar. “Thanks, Myles.” He nodded at the bartender, extremely grateful that Myles was the one who had come on and helped her get in touch with him. He’d left him a large tip as a thank you for helping Mirabelle and for just being a good guy.
“No problem, Bast! Hope things work out, Mira!” Myles raised the glass of beer he’d just finished pouring in a salute as they passed.
“Thanks, Myles.” She waved at him drunkenly. “See you later.”
Outside the bar, Bastian helped her into his car and buckled her in. “You good?” He asked anxiously, cupping her cheeks and studying her face. “Have everything?” She held up her purse and phone and nodded.
“I think so.” He nodded, hoping she wouldn’t throw up on the short drive to her place and got in on the driver's side. The drive to her place was quiet. Bastian was trying to put his thoughts in order, and he desperately wanted to talk to her but knew there was no point right now. He glanced at her several times to make sure she wasn’t about to lose the contents of her stomach, but she was sitting with her head leaning on the window and her eyes closed, looking pale but fairly composed.
When they got back to her condo, he parked in the underground parking, practically carrying her up the stairs from the garage to the lobby, then helped her into the elevator and up to the condo. He unlocked the door, sat her on the couch and got her some more water. While she sipped on the water, he sat next to her and gave her a few minutes to get her bearings. “Mira?” He murmured gently. “Why were you drinking?” He was really worried it was because of him and hoped he was wrong.
“They're getting married.” She mumbled, looking a little embarrassed and almost ashamed of her reaction.
“Who's getting married?” Bastian frowned, then it clicked, and his eyes widened. There were only two people who would make her go off the rails like this. “Are you serious? Casey and Eddie?” She nodded miserably.
“They sent me a letter and an invitation.” She leaned over a little, pulled a small, slightly crumpled envelope out of her pocket and handed it to him. He opened the envelope and pulled out the letter, laying the invitation on the table.
Dear Mira,
We know our relationship came at the cost of our relationship with you, but we hope you can find it in your heart to be happy for us. The heart wants what it wants, and we tried to stay away from each other but were clearly unsuccessful. We are getting married, and we would like you to come and show your support for our relationship. It would go a long way toward mending things if you could come and show everyone we've all moved past this.
All our love,
Casey and Eddie.
“Those assholes.” He muttered, incensed on her behalf. After all the harassment and problems they gave her during the divorce process, they actually dared to invite her to the wedding and ask her to show they’d moved past it all? He crumpled the letter in his hand and then tossed it on the coffee table next to the invitation.
Mirabelle shrugged. “I attract them, apparently.” She was staring down at her water sadly, and he felt his heart clenching at the look on her face. Knowing he wasn’t going to be able to talk to her until she sobered up, he wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple.
“Look, I know you're still upset with me, but come on, drink your water, and we'll go lie down; I’ll rub your back for you, and when you've gotten some sleep and sobered up a bit, we'll talk about everything, okay?”
“Okay.” She leaned into him and put her head on his chest. “I was on my way to your place and decided to go to the bar to get a drink first; then I had another one and another one...” She groaned softly, and Bastian tightened his arms around her, knowing how much she disliked being sick and hungover after a night of drinking. “But for the record, I'm only letting you lie with me 'cause I'm sadder than I am angry with you right now.”
Bastian smiled and kissed the top of her head. “That's fair.”