2. CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER TWO
KINSLEY
T he next morning, after I shower and blow dry my hair, I slip into my favorite pink sleeveless dress. It’s short and simple, perfect for any occasion. Today I dress it up with a pair of rose-gold hoops, mismatched bangle bracelets, and my favorite pair of nude heels.
With one last glance in the mirror, I fluff out my loose curls. When I’m ready to head out, I zip up the overnight bag I packed for Tessa’s and double-check that I have the file my client provided for her soon-to-be ex-fiancé. The poor bastard.
Savannah is about two hours from my apartment in Charleston. While I don’t normally travel so far for work, it was almost impossible to turn this one down. Not after Victoria told me her fiancé would be alone and golfing at a country club thirty minutes from my small hometown in Georgia.
The job itself will be an easy one, so long as this Ethan Michael character takes it like a champ and keeps his tears to himself. Even so, I grab a small pack of tissues just in case. All I have to do is get in there, find this Ethan Michael fella, and do what Victoria can’t do on her own. Then I’ll spend a few hours shopping before I head over to my sister’s house for a home-cooked meal.
When I pull up to the Clubs at Savannah, the sky is bright blue and the sun is scorching hot. For fall, the weather is unusually warm, but I’ll take this over the cold any day. I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Victoria.
Me: I’m here.
Victoria: He just finished hole number sixteen. He said he might hang out at the bar and watch the Braves game before heading home. I think he’s wearing a blue polo and khaki shorts. You won’t be too harsh on him, though, will you? He really is a sweet guy.
Me: Do you want to back out?
I unbuckle and step out of my car, knowing full well that this is Victoria’s MO. She’s a flip-flopper. One second, she’s ready to cut the cord. The next, she’s not sure. She wants me to hold her hand. To tell her she’s making the right choice.
I don’t. It’s important my clients be absolutely sure. I won’t sway their decision one way or the other.
The humidity is stifling, and the asphalt hisses. I instantly regret curling my hair.
Victoria: Is it bad that I’m nervous? Either way, I feel like I might be making a mistake.
Me: The wedding is already paid for. And so am I. So it’s your call.
This isn’t the first time a client has waffled like this. Brides tend to be more emotionally invested, which proves decision making to be damn near impossible. Females are far more likely to weigh their pros and cons, and for some ungodly reason, they feel the need to balance them out rather than see what’s right in front of their face. Men, on the other hand, don’t give much thought once they reach a decision. Maybe that’s why it was so easy for Jay to screw my friend on our wedding day. He’d already planned to marry me, so once Chasity was cool with being the side chick, he didn’t care about anything else.
Victoria: Go with the original plan.
Me: All right. I’ll text when it’s over.
I slip my phone into my handbag, then stride into the country club. As I scan the impressive space, with its high, vaulted ceilings and marble floors, I relish the cool air. It only takes a moment to find the bar in the far right corner. It’s quaint, with masculine décor. The Braves and the Yankees are playing on the large television that hangs overhead.
The bartender looks up and grimaces. “My manager isn’t here.”
“Manager?” I quirk an eyebrow.
“You’re dressed like you want to sell me something.”
I glower. “No. I’m not selling anything. I’m actually looking for someone. His name is Ethan Michael.”
“Is that name supposed to mean something to me?” he chirps, handing me a cocktail menu while looking too busy to be bothered.
I shake my head, dismissing the menu. Then I take a seat at the edge of the bar closest to the exit. “I’m not here to drink.”
“Suit yourself, but it might be a while before your knight in shining armor arrives. Heard there were two skunks out there chasing after a handsome hottie right before hole eighteen,” he says, his tone full of sass.
Catching my lip between my teeth, I regard him. “And here I thought you didn’t know Ethan Michael.”
Tsking, he sets a lemon drop martini in front of me. “Never said I didn’t know him.”
“Is this a game you play with all your patrons?” I ask, bringing the martini glass to my lips. I hum in appreciation of the cool, crisp cocktail. My favorite drink. And then it hits me. I didn’t order this.
Mr. Sassy Bartender hunches over the bar, grinning, batting his lavish lashes at me.
My stomach twists at the expression. He knows who I am.
I inhale sharply, then blow out a long breath. “Should I be surprised that you know my drink of choice?”
“It took me a hot minute to realize you were the one and only Kinsley Grant. Destroyer of Happily Ever Afters. Queen of Wreckage. Ice Empress of Empty Hearts.”
“It is I,” I say, giving a curt wave.
“I follow your blog.” He stands back up, straighter this time. “My favorite wedding cancel was the one where both the bride and groom hired you at the same time. You’re a legend. That and nobody other than Victoria ”—he shivers, as if just saying her name repulses him—“calls Ethan that.”
I take another sip of my drink. “So, you do know Ethan Michael.”
“Girl, everyone knows Ethan. That fine ass of his…wait. Are you… Holy crap. You’re here to do it, aren’t you? Victoria is pulling the plug? That whore.” He slaps his palms against the lacquered bar top. “I knew it. What a bitch.”
I lift my brows, amused at my new best friend’s choice of words. “So, you’ll point him out when he walks by?”
His smile disappears and his lips thin out. “Uh-uh.” Arms folded over his chest, he shakes his head. “No. No way. You can’t do that to Ethan.”
At a small commotion behind me, his attention drifts. I follow his line of sight, taking in a group of men entering the bar.
Turning back to my new friend, I lean forward and read the name embroidered in tiny black print on his gray vest.
“Ramon,” I say, keeping my tone light. “I’m not here to hurt anyone. You should know that better than anyone else. I’m simply canceling an event before things get worse. You wouldn’t want me to fail at this, would you? We all know the alternative.” I say this as if it means nothing, but the truth is, blogging about my own traumatic experience was more difficult than I’d imagined. Yes, working through my own shitstorm of a breakup was therapeutic, but being cheated on is never an easy pill to swallow.
Ramon’s shoulders sag. “Girl,” he whispers, leaning in close, “if he had another week, I’m pretty sure Ethan would have broken it off himself. You can’t let that pretentious bitch do this to him.”
“I’m sorry the idea of Ethan getting his feelings hurt is so upsetting to you,” I say, angling closer and keeping my voice low, “but Victoria is my client, and she already paid me. Also, why are we whispering?”
Ramon shoots daggers at me, but an instant later, the expression is replaced with a wide smile, and he’s straightening and looking over my shoulder.
“Looks like the Braves just scored a run. Can you turn the volume up?” a husky voice beckons from behind me.
“Nope. The game got canceled.” Ramon clicks a button on the remote, and the TV goes dark. He scrunches his nose and tilts his lips up in a way that makes him look like a bloodthirsty Chihuahua.
The man behind me clears his throat. “You feeling okay, Ramon?”
“Yeah, Ramon,” I say, my voice a bit too loud. “You feeling okay?” There’s no stopping the smile that splits my face.
Ramon shakes his head, but it’s too late. Ethan is behind me. I twist in my seat, and when I zero in on the tall, broad-shouldered man, my heart comes to a screeching halt.
“Holy shit!”
He stumbles back a step and echoes the sentiment. “Holy shit!”
“Shit, shit, shit!” Ramon yells, waving his hands erratically in the air. “Victoria doesn’t want to get married. She’s calling off the wedding.”
The room goes deathly silent. Every person here, even the men at the other end of the bar, is silent and watching us.
“I couldn’t let you do it.” Ramon looks at me with wide eyes, breaking the silence. “I couldn’t let her do it.” This time, the statement is directed at Ethan. “Victoria hired her to dump you. Oh my God. Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”
Damn. Well, that didn’t go as planned.
“Ramon, have a seat.” Ethan says calmly. But he’s not looking at Ramon. He’s staring at me.
Me? I’m pretty sure my soul has left my body.
Finally, when I gain my bearings, I say, “You’re Ethan Michael? Since when do you go by Ethan fucking Michael ?” I grab my martini and toss the entire drink back in one shot. This cannot be happening. I can’t be staring at the first man I ever loved. The man who stole my virginity. The man who promised he’d make me his wife over a decade ago. No, because that Ethan doesn’t exist anymore. That Ethan took off and never looked back.
“Kinsley.”
“Ah. It’s like that? My full name?” I can’t remember the last time he called me Kinsley. It’s always been Kinz or Kinzie.
He winces like maybe my sour response hit him right where it counts, but a split second later, his eyes go wide.
“Wait. What did you just say?” His body goes rigid as he darts a look at Ramon, who’s perched on a stool behind the counter, shoulders hunched, looking like he’s just been grounded for running over a squirrel.
“I couldn’t let her do it,” he tells Ethan, pointing at me like I’m the devil in the flesh.
“What couldn’t you let her do?”
Ramon’s brow dips when he looks at me.
Ha . He has to say it again.
He swallows audibly, then clears his throat. This time his words come out quiet and slow. “Victoria. She’s calling off the wedding.”
Ethan looks at me, blinking slowly. “You came here to tell me Victoria doesn’t want to get married?”
“Yup,” I say, lifting my chin. “But Ramon here beat me to it.” I wave a hand in his direction. Though I keep my demeanor cool and unattached, anger wells up inside me. The seventeen-year-old from my past seethes inside my twenty-nine-year-old body. It’s been twelve years since I last saw Ethan, and while I thought I’d long ago put him behind me, in this moment, it’s clear that I have unresolved resentment toward him.
“Victoria thought you might cry, so I brought these.” I pull out the travel-size packet of tissues from my clutch and drop it into his palm.
He doesn’t look down. He doesn’t look away. With confusion swimming in his eyes, he asks, “Is this what you do? You break up engagements? You go around ruining lives?”
“Ruining lives? Hardly. I’m saving them. And I may have just saved yours. You can thank me later.” I swallow hard. I’m fishing. But I don’t like the bitterness in his voice.
Ethan is the last person who should judge me or the choices I’ve made with my life.
“Ramon, make me another one of these lemon drop martinis, please.”
Ethan pulls out his phone and taps out a message. He’s just like the rest of them. The need for answers is a bitch.
“She won’t respond. Not until I tell her it’s over. She knows to wait for the all-clear.”
Ramon slips another martini glass in front of me, his eyes lowered, his lips paper tight. He looks scared. Good.
I reach for the drink and down it as quickly as the first.
Silence blankets us, thick and unbearable. I should get up. My job here is done. But I’m glued to the seat. I won’t give Ethan the satisfaction of watching me leave. Between the two of us, I’m not the one who walks away.
“Ramon, this is the best martini I’ve ever tasted. If you make me another, I’ll forget about your little slip-up and feature you on my blog.”
“She doesn’t need another martini,” Ethan growls, his tone dark.
I snap my head in Ethan’s direction. He did not just martini block me. “You, Ethan Michael ,” I say emphasizing his middle name, “do not get to tell my dear friend Ramon to stop making martinis for me. If I want a damn martini, I’ll drink a damn martini.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Ethan glares. “There’s no way you can handle two martini’s and still drive.”
“Three. And what are you, a cop?” I seethe.
Ethan laughs, though it’s not because he finds this funny. No, this is his uncomfortable laugh. He doesn’t know what’s happening, and he’s lost inside his head, processing it all. It’s his superpower. Always thinking. Always analyzing. It pisses me off.
Ignoring him, I tap my fingers on the bar.
This time, when Ramon sets my pretty yellow drink in front of me, I don’t immediately gulp it down. Instead, I stage it, shifting and angling it so I get the full backdrop of the bar behind it. Once I snap a few pictures that are upload worthy, I say, “Your turn, Ramon. Lean forward and place your fingers right here.”
I guide his hand and position his dark palm on the polished wood of the bar top, then adjust his fingers so they’re barely touching the stem of the glass. Then I snap a few more photos.
“You, my dear friend,” I say, admiring his dark brown eyes and high cheekbones, “are incredibly photogenic. I can’t wait to post these.”
I take a sip of the drink and plant a fake smile on my face, ignoring the tension building behind it.
“Are you going to explain? How do you even know Victoria?” Ethan sits next to me and twists on the barstool so he’s facing me.
My heart thumps against my sternum as he assesses me. What the hell am I supposed to do now? I could take off, hang him out to dry, I suppose. It’s not my job to give specifics. I only deliver the cancellation. The rest is between the bride and the groom. But this could be my chance to ask him what happened. How he knows Victoria. How he ended up back in Georgia. How long he’s been back. Where he calls home and why he never called me.
I clear my throat and go with a third option. “I’m a lifestyle blogger. Victoria is a client. She hired me to call off your wedding.”
Ethan shakes his head. “I don’t follow. What does writing a lifestyle blog have to do with her hiring you to cancel our wedding?” Roughing a hand down his face, he sighs. “And why didn’t she just tell me herself?”
It’s hard to look at him. There’s so much history buried between us. I blinked, and suddenly we were no longer teenagers in love. He left when I needed him the most. He joined the marines, and then he vanished.
Forcing myself to breathe through the pain that hits me at the memory, I take him in. It’s weird. This is Ethan. He has the same oval face. The same soulful brown eyes. Yet his jawline is more pronounced, even dusted with stubble. His mouth is the same too, with full lips that are almost perfectly symmetrical.
His body is vastly different, though. He’s no longer skinny with lean running legs. No, this man is muscular, with broad shoulders and thick biceps that are practically suffocating beneath the tight sleeves of his blue polo shirt. The way he’s sitting makes the thickness of his thighs hard to ignore.
I sigh. “A few years ago, my blog blew up, and I became what is known as a wedding canceler.”
His brow creases, and he dips his head. “A what?”
“Wedding canceler.” I sip my drink and set it on the bar again. “When a bride—or a groom—gets cold feet, they call me up, and I help them dissolve their relationship, keeping the integrity of what’s most important intact.”
“And what’s that?”
“Love, because believe it or not, the majority of my clients don’t want to hurt their partner.” I take another sip from my glass.
Ethan shifts in his seat. “I don’t understand.”
Ramon sets a Heineken in front of Ethan. Then, with an uneasy smile, he backs away.
“Thanks,” Ethan says and takes a gulp.
“Victoria said it wouldn’t be a difficult break because you two don’t live together. But if it’s any consolation, she was hesitant to go through with it.”
“Not that. Victoria is…well…she’s Victoria. It’s this that I don’t understand. How do you insert yourself so boldly and break people apart?” He studies me, his expression unreadable. “The Kinzie I knew would never have chosen this path.”
He’s right. The Kinzie he knew was a romantic, like him. Hopelessly and utterly in love with being in love. But life broke me, one relationship at a time. I don’t actually feel broken. I just don’t feel it necessary to be in love. Not anymore. I’m perfectly happy with who I am, with what I do. It may not be the path I expected, but it’s the path that found me.
With a thick swallow, I focus my attention on my drink. I tip the glass back and forth, watching the yellow liquid sway from side to side. Today wasn’t supposed to go down like this. I was supposed to come in, do my job, and leave. But now I’m sitting here, next to the man I used to imagine growing old with. The man who broke my heart and left me to navigate life all on my own. A large part of me grew resentful after he left. That part still exists, and it wants to destroy him the way he destroyed me. This right here could be the payback I’ve always longed for. Only instead of feeling vindicated, I feel empty and hollow.
So, rather than responding with something I might later regret, I gulp down the rest of my martini and reach for my keys.