15. Leah
15
Leah
P aula and Pete got married on a boat set out to sea, not docked, but floating… ensuring that no one could leave the party. Ever . I may die out here. Here lies Leah. She died attempting to swim back to shore in red high heels–but hey, she looked good.
For real—my hour has come and gone. How does one leave this party?
My stomach growls, and I pull a little tighter at the edges of my black cardigan. It’s the last day of January—who gets married on a boat, in Coeur d’Alene, in January?
I am cold. I can’t decide if I am seasick or starving—probably both. Plus, I’m in heels. Heels —Paula! Does the girl have any idea what heels do to your feet? They should probably be outlawed. Not to mention, I know no one on this stupid boat other than my big dumb ex. So, let’s add ‘alone’ to my list of complaints.
That’s it, Paula and I are no longer friends. I don’t care that her roll order is paying my rent next month.
Even if I weren’t getting sly glances from stupid, sue- happy PJ every six and a half seconds, I would still be so far out of my comfort zone that it’s not even funny.
Why isn’t PJ paying attention to his very tall, very blonde date?
The bride has assured everyone that food will be brought out soon. I need food. Food would improve my situation immensely. I haven’t eaten in hours. I am anxious, alone, trapped, and hangry. It’s not a great combo, people. I need meat. I need sustenance. I need this boat to find a dock.
I am a good person, gosh dang it. Come on, Universe, help a girl out. I deserve better. If this boat is going to float out to sea, then sink, all while my ex stares at me from across the room, at least let me do it with a chicken leg in my hand.
As if the let’s-laugh-at-Leah gods were invited to this wedding too, suddenly, tall, smiley, and sexy struts over to my table.
How in the heck did Cooper Bailey get on this boat? Is there a secret way to get on and off this thing? I swear he wasn’t here five minutes ago. Or an hour ago. Is there an actual exit? Or maybe like the Room of Requirement, it only shows up when you need it. HEY, UNIVERSE—I NEED IT!
Grinning—because he’s always grinning—he walks right up to me. As if we might be friends. And sure, that grin is attractive. That doesn’t mean he is attractive. That means the mouth attached to his face looks semi-decent when turned up.
I chose this table because no one else had taken a seat here. I chose it for solitary. I’m regretting that choice now. I’ve given him five empty chairs to choose from.
“Leah,” he says. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Yeah,” I say, gritting my teeth with that one-syllable word. I regret ever calling Paula my friend at this point.
“Can I sit?” He points to the chair next to me.
“No.” I shake my head and find my voice. “You cannot.” Sure, I had a weak moment—I almost asked Cooper for help yesterday. But that was yesterday. Today, my sanity has returned.
But Cooper just chuckles. What’s so funny, bub?
“How about over here?” He points to the chair at this round table directly across from me.
I am too cold, too hungry, and too strappy to play nice. “No,” I snap. “You can’t sit there or there,” I say, pointing to another empty chair. “Or there.” I set a hand to my stomach—so hungry. “I don’t need anything else to ruin my night. I’m in heels—stupid four-inch-tall high heels. Do you have any idea what heels do to your feet? I haven’t eaten in hours. I’m starving. And the one person I dislike more than any other on the planet—even more than you, Cooper Bailey, is on this boat. I can’t escape. Who does that? Who traps all of their wedding guests on a boat set to sea, refuses to feed them, and in the middle of winter! So, no. I don’t want to sit by you. Remember you asked if we could be friends, and I declined the offer?” The words are out, fast and clipped. No mercy. I have zero goodwill left inside of me.
He swallows, his grin faltering. “I do remember.” He takes one step backward, like I might bite.
“Then why are you here?”
His shoulders are stiff, his smile gone. “Sorry.”
I watch him walk into the crowd. He doesn’t find a new place to sit but stands near a small table with the wedding cake atop it. There’s a small group standing there, and he must know someone because he starts up a conversation easily enough.
I blow out a tired breath. Maybe I was a little rash. Maybe I could have been nicer. Maybe Cooper could have distracted my growling belly and sore feet. Or maybe all the odds are against me and The Universe wants to see just how far it can push Leah Bradford.
And then—because The Universe is having a good laugh at my expense tonight—my Cooper watching is interrupted with a thunk into the chair next to me.
PJ.