Chapter 22 – Asher
Twenty-Two
ASHER
The Peyton & James Parker Wedding
Lone Mountain Ranch
Blue Sky, Montana
“Please tell me I’m not a bad person for doing this four days before my wedding.” The groom paced the balcony. “Oh, wait. Before you do that…”
He pulled a few twenties from his pocket and handed them to me.
“Is this a bonus, James?” I asked. “It looks a little light…”
“No, man.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s to cover your drinks at the bar tonight since I forgot to add you to the guest list.”
“I appreciate your hospitality.” I tucked the bills into my pocket. “I’ll raise a drink to you.”
“Good. Now, tell me I’m not a bad person.”
“You’re not a bad person.”
“Can you say it like you actually believe it? Like everything in the future is guaranteed to work out for the best?”
“I’m not a fortune teller, Mr. Parker,” I said. “I’m just here to do the job you asked me to do, and it’s better if I handle it today.”
“Do any of the ditched spouses cry when things get called off?”
“I hope this is a joke…”
“It’s not.” He looked serious. “I’m hoping they don’t cry…”
“Most of them spent over a year planning the perfect day and it all goes to shit out of nowhere.” I crossed my arms. “What do you think?”
“I honestly think Peyton would be settling if she married me… She deserves better.”
That’s a new one… I arched a brow.
“She mentioned wanting to start a family right after we tied the knot,” he said. “Poof! It was out of the blue because we’ve never discussed kids one way or another, but…”
“But what?”
“I got a vasectomy the day after she said it… just to be sure we never have any children.” He sighed. “I don’t want them.”
“You could’ve just told her that.”
He shook his head and sighed.
“Before we got engaged, I wanted to make sure I got all the need for sex with other women out of my system,” he continued, treating me like a priest in a confessional. “I even slept with one of her close friends… She’s a bridesmaid.”
“Please stop talking. Now.”
“Then me and my ex-girlfriend started talking and having sex again, and she said something that’s been on my mind ever since.”
“Step away from the door so I can get the hell out of here.”
“You’re not the settling-down type, James,” she said. “It’s true.”
“It’s not that hard to take two steps to the left…”
“I’ve never been committed to anything for longer than eight months in my life, and I leave every job after about two years—max.
Hell, I left my latest job last month and I still haven’t told Peyton.
” He shook his head. “She’s going to have to pay the rest of what we owe on this wedding by herself. ”
Before he could confess anything else, I moved past him and opened the door.
And then I looked over my shoulder.
“Feel free to take this however you wish,” I said, “but you are more than a bad person. You’re a fucked-up one.”
* * *
“What do you mean he got cold feet?” The bride’s screams were loud enough to rival a freight train. “How can he be ‘too depressed to go through with it?’”
She let out a wail that made me feel the heaviest pang of guilt I’d ever experienced.
“Where the hell is he? WHERE IS HE?”
“He’s on a flight home, Peyton,” a soft voice that sounded all too familiar said. “I’ve just spoken to his therapist.”
“His therapist? What about him?”
“He’s not answering his phone…”
“What about us and the three hundred people who are waiting to see us get married Sunday?”
“I’m sorry,” Katie said, sounding like she was about to cry, too. “I’ll handle letting everyone know, if you’ll allow me to do so. And I’ll happily handle—”
“Get out.” The bride cut her off. “Get the hell away from me. Now.”
The suite’s door opened within seconds. Katie stepped into the hallway, looking down at the floor.
Looking beautiful as ever, she was wearing a light grey dress I’d never seen her in before, and her hair was falling in long waves past her shoulders.
She let out a slow, unsteady breath, and then she looked up at me.
For several moments, she said nothing. Then she moved toward me with tears pricking her eyes.
“Is there a word stronger than hate in the dictionary?”
“I’m sure there are quite a few.”
“Well, look those up and know that in this moment—”
“That’s exactly how you feel about me.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “Exactly. On the other hand, you look happy. I’m glad someone is smiling today.”
“I’m not happy about this one at all.” I grabbed her arm. “I can assure you of that.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because if I knew what I know now, I would’ve never taken him on as a client.” I pulled the handkerchief from my pocket and dabbed her eyes.
“I handcrafted the floral arch myself,” she said. “Every peony, rose, and baby’s breath was plucked from a garden twenty miles from here.”
“I’m sure it’s beautiful.”
“Can something be considered ‘beautiful’ if the audience never sees it?”
“You should show it to me,” I said.
“Because you feel guilty?”
“Because I actually want to see it.” I held back before I could say anymore, before I could admit that I was actually overly impressed with every single wedding she designed.
She stared into space for a few seconds, but then tugged at the mic in her shirt.
“Someone needs to stand guard at the bride’s suite for me,” she said. “I’m taking a walk around the ceremony area.”
I held out my hand, and she took it, letting me escort her away from the wing and down the lodge’s grand staircase.
She suddenly stopped walking as we approached the exit doors. Then she pointed at the bar.
“I designed the centerpieces on all those tables,” she said. “I did the garland in the lobby, too.”
“I figured that when I saw it last night.”
“How could you tell?”
“You always use one random tulip in everything you do…” I’d noticed that years ago. “I’m assuming there’s one on the arch you’re about to show me as well, correct?”
She blushed and continued walking.
Outside, rows of white wooden chairs—all dressed in satin green scarves—stood waiting for a wedding that would never come.
The arch towered over the invisible audience—its fat blooms cascading in an array of pinks, blues, and whites.
Katie stooped down and plucked a pink tulip.
“It’s very impressive,” I said.
“I volunteered to do it once the florist dropped out,” she said. “She claimed the groom never paid her invoice, but I knew that couldn’t be true.”
I looked away from her.
“Well, go ahead,” she said, leaning against the arch. “Give it to me now.”
“Why would you want our first time to be in public?”
“You wish.” She rolled her eyes. “Tell me the real backstory on this and don’t placate me with a fake therapist and diagnosis.”
“He did her a favor, and she’s better off without him.”
“He’s that terrible?”
“One of the worst clients I’ve ever had,” I admitted. “I’ll have to give you the details some other time, though.”
“Why not now?”
“Because you still have to talk to her this weekend, and you have the least believable poker face in the world.”
“That’s not even remotely true. I can totally—” She stopped herself. “Okay, fine. Makes sense.”
Behind us, a small orchestra trickled onto the stage.
“Hey, uh,” the lead violinist spoke into the mic. “Do you mind if we, uh, still practice here tonight?”
“Go ahead,” Katie said. “Practice for as long as you like.”
They began playing a sonata that’s played at tons of weddings before, and I pulled her into my arms.
Before I could ask her a question, she leaned closer on her tiptoes and kissed me.
I returned her kiss, running my fingers through her hair, pulling her even closer.
“This moment doesn’t mean anything,” she said, still kissing me. “I still despise you and all you do.”
“That feeling is mutual, Katie.” I bit her bottom lip. “It’ll always be mutual.”
“You don’t have a good reason at all to continue doing this past today, Asher.”
“I beg to differ…”