Chapter 32
CHAPTER 32
HAYES
T he tailor shop smelled like expensive fabric. Was that a smell? If so, I didn’t like it. It wasn’t like an earthy, cotton smell but something… rich. Or maybe that was just me being a grumpy asshole. Nothing made me happy. Food tasted like shit. Everything smelled bad. The skies were gray. My favorite Spotify station sucked.
I stood on a small platform in front of a trio of mirrors, arms out as the tailor made small adjustments to the jacket that would soon be part of my suit for Dad’s wedding. The man moved like he had done this a million times, pinning and smoothing the fabric as I stared at my reflection.
“You got a date yet?” Isaac asked from the nearby armchair where he was lounging like he owned the place. He sipped an espresso that someone from the shop had offered him.
“No,” I said curtly, not bothering to look his way.
Isaac snorted. “Figures. Can’t imagine you bringing anyone. You’re the kind of guy who makes stag your whole personality.”
I glared at him in the mirror. “It’s not like that.”
“Sure it isn’t.”
Dad, standing nearby in his own half-tailored suit, waved a hand to cut Isaac off. “Enough,” he said calmly. “He’s not inviting a stranger. I understand. Don’t tease your brother.”
“Thank you,” I said, relieved that someone in the room got it. “This isn’t about saving face. It’s about not pretending.”
Isaac smirked. “Buzz kill.”
“Trust me, if I could bring Dixie, I would.”
“If Hayes gets to go stag, I should be able to as well,” Isaac said.
I rolled my eyes. “Difference is I won’t be trying to hook up with anyone at the wedding.”
“Bullshit. Best way to get over a woman is to get another one under you.”
I clenched my jaw, the tailor’s pin pricking slightly as he adjusted the sleeve. “Not everyone operates like you, Isaac. Some of us actually care about the people we’re with.”
Isaac leaned back, stretching his arms over the back of the chair, his smirk widening. “Oh, come on. You’re telling me you’re still hung up on Dixie? After everything? She dumped you, man. Moved on. You should too.”
The words hit harder than I wanted to admit. I stared at my reflection, the sharp lines of the suit making me look like someone I didn’t recognize. Someone polished, put together. Someone who wasn’t falling apart inside.
“It’s not that simple,” I muttered.
“Hayes, you don’t have to explain yourself to anyone. If you’re not ready to bring someone, that’s your choice. But don’t let Isaac get under your skin,” Dad said, his tone firm but kind. He adjusted his cufflinks, his gaze steady on me in the mirror. “You’ve always been the kind of person who feels things deeply. That’s not a weakness. But don’t let it consume you either.”
Isaac rolled his eyes, clearly bored with the conversation. “Whatever. Just don’t be moping around at the wedding, okay? It’s supposed to be a celebration, not a pity party.”
I didn’t respond. Instead, I focused on the tailor’s hands as he made the final adjustments to the suit. I couldn’t shake the image of Dixie from my mind—her face when she told me it was over, the way her voice had cracked when she said she couldn’t do this anymore. I had replayed that moment a million times.
“Is Kathy getting excited for the wedding?” I asked Dad in an attempt to change the conversation. And to give me something other than Dixie to think about.
Dad’s face softened at the mention of his fiancée. “She’s in full wedding mode,” he said with a chuckle. “Every night, it’s something new—flowers, seating charts, cake flavors. I think she’s already redecorated the reception hall three times in her head.”
I managed a small smile, though it felt forced. “Sounds like she’s got it under control.”
“Oh, she does,” Dad said, adjusting his tie in the mirror. “Honestly, I’m just along for the ride at this point. As long as she’s happy, I’m happy.”
Isaac groaned dramatically from his chair. “Can we not talk about wedding planning? It’s giving me hives just listening to it.”
Dad shot him a look. “You’ll understand one day, son. When you find the right person, you’ll want to give them the world.”
Isaac rolled his eyes again but didn’t respond, taking another sip of his espresso instead. The tailor stepped back, giving the suit a final onceover before nodding in satisfaction.
“All done,” he said, his accent thick but his tone professional. “You can step down now.”
I obeyed, stepping off the platform and feeling the weight of the fabric settle on my shoulders. It felt strange. Like I was wearing someone else’s skin. I tugged at the collar, uncomfortable. We had grown up wearing tuxes a few times a year, but I never got used to it. I had a couple of my own at home, but Kathy wanted a different style for the wedding, so here I was getting fitted all over again.
“Stop fidgeting,” Isaac said, standing and brushing imaginary lint off his pants. “You look good, man. Like a grownup or something.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, though the compliment didn’t land. I didn’t feel like a grownup. I felt like a kid playing dress-up in his dad’s clothes.
Dad clapped a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll get used to it,” he said, as if reading my thoughts.
My phone buzzed on the stand where I’d set it earlier, but I ignored it. “I’m going to change,” I said.
I headed to the small changing room at the back of the shop. As I unbuttoned the jacket, I couldn’t help but think about Dixie again and the fact she was supposed to be coming with me to this wedding.
After slipping back into my jeans and hoodie, I grabbed my phone and checked the notification. It was a missed call.
Dixie.
Her name on the screen hit like a punch to the chest. My pulse sped up as I stared at it, my vision narrowing until the rest of the room faded away. Did she change her mind? Was she calling to tell me she wanted to see me again?
“Everything okay?” Dad asked, watching me closely.
“I don’t know.” I met his eyes briefly, then made a quick decision. “I need to step out.”
Without waiting for an answer, I grabbed my phone and ducked out of the shop, dialing her back as soon as I was outside.
She answered on the third ring. “Hello?” Her voice was nasally, like she had a cold or maybe she’d been crying. I hoped it wasn’t the last. Kind of. I wanted her to be sad she dumped me.
“Dixie?” My heart kicked up a notch. “Are you okay?”
There was a pause, and then I heard her sniffle. “No,” she said finally, her voice cracking. “I’m not okay. I need you to come over. Now.”
I didn’t even hesitate. “I’ll be there in twenty.”
I walked back into the shop. “I have to go. I’ll talk to you guys later.”
“Is everything okay?” Dad asked.
“It’s fine.”
The sports car purred under me as I drove through the city, weaving through traffic as fast as I dared. My hands gripped the wheel tightly, my thoughts running in circles. What could’ve happened? Was she hurt? In trouble? The worst part was not knowing.
When I reached her building, the front door was propped open with a package, likely left by a neighbor. I slipped inside and took the stairs two at a time, my mind racing. By the time I reached her door, my chest felt tight with anticipation. I knocked firmly, trying to make myself calm down. I didn’t want to come in freaking out. She called me because she needed me. That meant I needed to be the calm one. I couldn’t be freaking out and making things worse.
She opened the door within moments, her face pale, her eyes puffy and red like she’d been crying for hours. For a long moment, we just stared at each other.
I hadn’t been sure if I would ever see her again, and the sight of her—fragile, heartbroken, and yet still so her—knocked the air out of me. I didn’t know what she was about to tell me, but I couldn’t deny the relief coursing through me that I was the one she’d called when she needed someone.
“What do you need?” I asked softly, stepping closer.
Her lip trembled, and she swayed toward me. Then, as though something inside her finally broke, she threw herself into my arms, clutching at my shirt like I was the only thing keeping her upright.
The weight of her hit me like a freight train. I wrapped my arms around her instinctively, pulling her close, and she buried her face in my chest, sobbing like her heart was breaking.
“Hey,” I murmured, running a hand over her hair. “I’ve got you. It’s okay. I’m here.”
She didn’t answer, just cried harder. My throat felt tight as I held her, desperate to take whatever was hurting her and destroy it. Gently, I guided her back inside, shutting the door behind us and helping her to the couch. She sank onto it, still clinging to me. I lowered myself beside her, keeping her wrapped in my arms. I held her close like I was trying to absorb her very being into me. I didn’t know how else to take away the pain.
We sat there for what felt like hours, her sobs eventually tapering off into quiet hiccups. Finally, she lifted her cheek from my chest, her tear-filled eyes meeting mine.
“Thank you for coming,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
I wiped her tears away with my thumb, trying to keep my own emotions in check. “Of course. What happened? Are you okay?”
Her gaze drifted to the coffee table, and I followed it, expecting to see something—anything—that would explain her distress. But the surface was bare. Whatever had her so upset wasn’t in the room, and my confusion only deepened.
“Dixie,” I said gently, turning back to her. “Talk to me.”
Her eyes flickered back to mine, and for a moment, I thought she might. But then she shook her head, fresh tears spilling over.
“I don’t know how to say it,” she admitted, her voice trembling.
“Start wherever you can,” I urged, keeping my voice low and steady. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She let out a shaky breath, her fingers tightening on my shirt. I waited, patient but aching to understand, as she wrestled with whatever was weighing her down.
Finally, she said, “It’s not something you can just fix, Hayes. I—I messed everything up. And now…”
Her words trailed off, and I felt my chest constrict. “And now what?”
She pulled back slightly, looking at me with wide, vulnerable eyes. “I’m scared,” she admitted. “And I don’t know what to do.”
Her vulnerability was a sucker punch. Whatever this was, whatever had her so torn apart, I’d be damned if I let her face it alone.
“Whatever you’re dealing with, you don’t have to take it on by yourself,” I said firmly. “Whatever it is, Dixie, I’m here. Just let me help.”
Her lip trembled, and she looked away, clearly struggling to find the words.