Cordially Not Invited

Prologue – Asher

Prologue

ASHER

Sometime between waking up this morning and sliding behind the wheel of my car, I veered off the road and crashed straight into “Hell.”

While struggling to unfasten my seatbelt, all my bad decisions flashed in front of my eyes, and every person I’d ever hurt stared me down through the rising smoke.

Okay, okay…

Maybe I’m being slightly overdramatic, but descending into Satan’s lair is the only logical explanation for this disaster of an afternoon.

And I refuse to believe that Hell’s flames can get any hotter than the ones right here in Riley Jane’s Homestyle Diner.

“Can you please get your greasy finger out of my face?” my fiancée, Delilah, screams at our waitress. “Like, what the heck is your deal, lady?”

“My deal is having to serve rude, bitch-ass customers like you.” She hisses, still wagging her finger. “We’re out of bolognese sauce, and avocado toast is not on our menu. I’ve told you this eight times already.”

“You serve avocado and toast separately.” Delilah fumes. “So, just go back there and tell the cooks to put those things together.”

“Or how about, you get up and go someplace else?”

“Excuse me?” Delilah gasps. “Get me your manager. Now.”

The waitress huffs and walks away, and I clasp Delilah’s hand atop the table.

“It’s not that serious, Delilah,” I whisper. “Just drop it, apologize for yelling at her, and we can go someplace else.”

“You want me to apologize?” She narrows her eyes. “She called me a bitch! Didn’t you hear her say that?”

You called her a cunt first…

“I just want to keep the peace,” I say. “You’re on edge about our wedding plans, and you’re taking it out on everyone else.”

“Because everyone else is out to get me, Asher.” Her eyes widen. “They don’t want me to win in life. Can’t you see?”

I look around the restaurant—at all the eyes staring in our direction, and I can’t help but hold back a sigh.

Were you always this crazy, or am I just now seeing it?

“You’re supposed to be on my side, for life.” She squeezes my hand. “Right or wrong, do or die. If I kill someone, you help me hide the body, remember?”

The sheriff sitting at the table across from us raises his eyebrow.

“Remember, Asher?” She squeezes me again. “We’ll share life sentences in prison together?”

“Yeah, together.” I look away from the sheriff and focus on her. “Look, just say sorry to the waitress, okay? Do it for me.”

“But—”

“For me.”

“Okay, fine…” She lets go of my hand as the manager steps in front of our table.

“Good afternoon.” He smiles. “I’m Mr. Burke, and my waitress said you needed to talk to me about something?”

“Yeah, about how effin’ rude, and—” Delilah clears her throat. “I mean, I wanted to say sorry for how rude my fiancé was to her.”

What the hell?

“He drove her crazy asking for that sauce and the specialty toast, and he just should’ve accepted your wonderful menu as it is,” she says, pulling out a few twenty dollar bills.

“He wants to make it up to her by leaving a sixty-dollar tip, and we’ll come back and visit again when we’re not in a rush. ”

“Wow.” The manager beams as he takes the money. “Sonya will appreciate this very much, and I’ll make sure she gets it. Thank you both so much.”

I nod because the only words on my tongue are “Are you out of your goddamn mind,” and they’re not for him.

The moment he walks away, Delilah looks over at me. “Happy now?”

“Let’s just go…” I slide out of the booth and head for the exit.

Out of habit, I hold the door open for her, even though I’m tempted to let it slam.

When we get to my car, she buckles her seatbelt and sighs.

“After this next appointment, let’s try a real restaurant,” she says, “not some rinky, dinky diner that’s stuck in the seventies. Okay, babe?”

“Yeah…”

“I mean, can you believe that place?” She whines as I peel out of the parking lot. “Only regular brewed coffee and no lattes? Serving all those carbs with no gluten-free options?”

I refuse to utter another word, and I know what you’re thinking right now.

“Asher, this woman is a red flag…”

But the joke’s on you.

I already know that, and looking back, this wasn’t the first one she threw.

Hell, it wasn’t even the tenth one.

There were hundreds of huge, violently waving “stop dating this woman” flags long before.

I didn’t listen, though.

Not until it was too late and our hearts were shattered when they didn’t have to be.

It wasn’t until months later that I learned to spot the red flags earlier.

But it took years and other heartwrenching breakups to finally spot the true issue: commitment.

That word no longer existed in my vocabulary, and I swore off long-term relationships forever.

I never did anything that could possibly make a woman believe a proposal was coming her way. No dates past the third one, no consistent calls, and no mentions of “next time.”

I even lucked into a career where I save men (and a few women) who were close to making the same life-altering mistake I almost did.

And nowadays, there’s only one consistent person in my life, and every time I run into her…it’s against my will.

It’s also a never-ending war between wanting to bend her over mid-argument and succumbing to another bout of blue balls, but that’s a story for another day.

Crossing paths with this woman every couple months is either punishment for “ruining” one too many of her lavishly-planned weddings, or a warning to stay away from her before she gets any closer than she already is…

Either way, I’m putting an end to our numerous run-ins this year once and for all.

I never invited this woman into my life, and the next time I run into her, I’ll be cordially disinviting her from mine.