3. Chapter 3
Grayson
I must have pictured this a thousand times over.
Music playing, Harlow in a tux, his blue eyes glued to mine as he walks down the aisle toward me.
I never imagined it wouldn’t be at our wedding, but at his wedding with someone else.
Someone else who is currently on my shit list. He should know by now that Harlow doesn’t do well with things changing.
There’s a reason Josh was supposed to go first. And that reason is staring me dead in the eyes.
Harlow’s teeth sink into his bottom lip as he makes the walk down the aisle toward me—well, not me, but… fuck, try telling that to my heart.
I reach up slowly—not that it matters since not a single person is looking at me aside from him—and tap my bottom lip.
Recognition lights up his features, and he releases his grip. The only problem is that now his bottom lip is wet and glistening, and he’s literally walking toward me in a fucking tux, looking every bit like the man of my dreams, and it’s really fucking with my head.
As he gets closer, my eyes start burning. At least no one is gonna judge me for crying at a wedding, I guess.
When he gets a few steps away, he pauses, and his mom—Annette—kisses his temple. His parents untangle their arms from his and sit down. Then he’s standing alone.
Without looking away from me, he takes the final few steps to the altar, then stands beside me, folding his hands in front of him.
The music is still playing, and I turn my attention to the door. Fucking Josh. If I knew it wouldn’t hurt Harlow, I’d give this fucker a piece of my mind.
We wait and wait and wait. The longer we wait, the more Harlow shifts back and forth on his feet, and from the corner of my eye, I catch him picking at his cuticles.
I grit my teeth, frustration welling up inside me.
The song ends, and after a few seconds of silence, the band starts up again, playing the same one.
Sweeping my gaze across the room, I watch people moving in their seats, turning toward the door and murmuring to each other.
“What’s going on?” Harlow whispers.
“I’m not sure,” I whisper back. “Do you want me to go find Andy?”
He shakes his head. “Hell no. Don’t leave me.”
My heart thumps. “I won’t.”
After a few more seconds, Andy appears around the corner. I know his relationship with Josh is strained, and for a second, I wonder if they’ve gotten into an argument. His hair is a mess, nothing like what it was before Harlow walked out here, and his tie is slightly askew.
Ignoring the eyes of everyone on him, he walks briskly down the aisle, his gaze too intense on Harlow for my liking.
Instead of standing in his place opposite me, he steps in front of Harlow. “I need to talk to you,” he whispers to Harlow, his eyes darting to me.
“About what?” Harlow tries to look past him, but Andy shifts, blocking his view.
“I—” Andy starts, then stops, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry, Harlow.”
Harlow cocks his head. “Sorry for what?”
There’s no fucking way. This goddamn asshole. “He left, didn’t he?” I hiss, picking up on what’s happening before Harlow does.
All the color drains from Harlow’s face, his body going stock-still. “What?”
Andy’s eyes are full of apologies as he pulls a small paper out of his coat pocket and hands it to Harlow. I watch in abject horror as Harlow takes the paper with shaking fingers and looks down at it.
I can’t read what it says from where I’m standing, so I step closer, glancing over Harlow’s shoulder.
I can’t do this. Sorry.
- Joshua.
My body starts shaking, rage taking over me as Andy turns toward the guests. “I’m so sorry, everyone, but there will be no wedding today.”
A collective gasp tears through the crowd, and Harlow chokes on his breath, a small whimper echoing in his throat.
I’m going to kill this motherfucker. “Where is he?” I ask, my voice low and rough.
Andy flat-out ignores me, walking away just as quickly as he walked in, leaving Harlow and me standing in front of hundreds of people.
I look at the officiant, and for a second he seems just as shocked as everyone, but then he clears his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen…”
His voice fades off into nothing when Harlow turns to me and presses his face into my chest. “Get me out of here, Gray.”
Don’t have to fucking tell me twice. I wrap my arm around his waist and start walking back down the aisle with him, but his legs go shaky, and he almost falls.
So instead, I hook my arms around him and lift him, cradling his shaking body to me.
He wraps his legs around my waist and buries his face in my throat, his breath uneven and stuttering against my skin.
I nod at his parents, who both stand and follow us out.
I don’t stop. I don’t look at anyone. I just keep Harlow held to my chest with a hand on the back of his head so he doesn’t lift it and make eye contact with anyone. I don’t set him down until we’re outside and away from the building.
When his feet hit the ground, he inhales sharply and doubles over, hands braced on his knees.
He’s a second away from having a panic attack, and a fresh wave of anger washes over me. I’m going to fucking kill Josh.
“I’m gonna go find Andy. I need to know where his fucking piece-of-shit brother is.”
Harlow’s parents surround him, his mom whispering something in his ear too low for me to hear.
I make it three steps before Harlow’s voice has me freezing in my tracks. “Don’t leave, Gray.”
Every single one of my instincts is screaming at me to protect Harlow. To… I don’t know—beat the living shit out of anyone who had anything to do with this. But I can’t. I want to find Josh and knock his teeth down his throat, but I won’t. Because Harlow asked me to stay.
Clenching my jaw so hard my teeth creak, I turn on my heel, and Annette and John step back. Harlow is still bent over, his breath coming in choppy pants, so I kneel in front of him. It’s a little awkward, but it wouldn’t be the first time.
Blue eyes lock on mine. “Hey,” I whisper, trying to smile at him even as my blood boils. “You’re okay. Take a big breath.”
He shakes his head. “This,” he gasps. “Is so fucking…” His breath punches out of him. “Humiliating.”
Yeah, I don’t really have a rebuttal to that.
The only thing I can think to do is force Harlow to stand and pull him into my arms. He comes willingly, pressing his face into my chest as I rub my hands up and down his back.
“You’re okay. Just breathe. In and out.”
It takes forfuckingever, but finally his breathing starts to return to normal. “There you go,” I whisper, still running my hand up and down his spine. “You’ve got it.”
“Take me home,” he chokes out. “I can’t be here.”
I pause. He lives with Josh… “You want me to take you to Josh’s?” I ask.
He shakes his head vehemently. “Fuck no. Your house.”
I can’t even enjoy the way my heart jumps at that. At him calling my house home. It would make me the shittiest friend in the world. I didn’t want Harlow to marry Josh, but I didn’t want this either.
“Alright. I’ll take you home.”
Harlow sags against me, and I have to catch him and support most of his weight.
I glance up at Annette and John. John looks just as pissed as me, his mouth set in a harsh line. I’ve seen that look a hundred times over the years. It’s the disappointed dad look. And Annette has tears welling up in her eyes.
I’m thankful that Harlow isn’t looking at that because I know seeing his mom upset—even if she’s upset for him—would wreck him even more.
“Where are my parents?” I ask.
Annette shakes her head. “Still inside, I think.”
I hope they’re able to figure out what the fuck is happening. As soon as the thought hits me, people start pouring out of the building and into the parking lot.
“Fuck.” I nod toward the building. “Can one of you go get Harlow’s stuff from the room and bring it to my house? I’ve gotta get him out of here.”
John turns on his heel without a word, heading back toward the building, dodging people left and right as they stare at him with sympathy. Fucking assholes. It’s not their fault, but I still can’t fucking deal with it.
“Let’s go, Harlow.”
“I’ll be by Gray’s soon,” Annette says softly.
He shakes his head. “Please, no. Not right now. I just want to be alone.”
My stomach twists. There’s nothing in this world that will cut me deeper than a hurt Harlow.
Without another word, I lead him to my car and open the door for him, helping him climb inside.
He buckles up, and I shut the door before rushing to the driver’s side and climbing in.
The second we hit the road, he lets out an incredulous laugh. “What in the actual fuck?”
“Good fucking question.”
Harlow shifts in his seat, looking at me with wide eyes. “Did I really just get left at the fucking altar? With a goddamn note?”
I grimace. “Looks that way.”
Another laugh bursts out of him, and this one is a little more unhinged and manic. “I just got left at the altar. Oh my God.” His voice cracks on the last word, and I glance at him just in time to see his bottom lip quiver.
Oh fuck. That’s gonna break my heart.
“He really left me at the altar.”
I reach across the console and take his hand. He squeezes my fingers right away. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. I have no clue what else to say. What do you even say?
“That motherfucker,” Harlow whispers, echoing my thoughts.
I keep my mouth shut. Nothing I have to say will be productive, and even though I want to, I’m not going to talk badly about the man Harlow loves. It’s hard, though, because goddamn, do I wanna talk some shit.
“I need you to be mad with me,” Harlow says, a bit of bite to his voice.
“Oh, I’m plenty fucking mad.”
Harlow’s hand trembles in mine. “The fucking nerve. Couldn’t even tell me himself? Had to send his stupid fucking brother—who I’ve never even met until today, mind you—out to do it for him?”
“An asshole and a fucking coward,” I say, squeezing Harlow’s hand.
“Damn right,” he mumbles. “God, I’m so embarrassed.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again. “I know it’s gotta sting.”
“Standing in front of all those people, looking like a damn moron when my stupid fiancé just leaves me there?” He scoffs. “If he didn’t want to marry me, he could have told me that at literally any point before I was standing there.”
Yeah, I feel like that’s the bare minimum. How do you just decide halfway through your wedding day that you don’t want to get married anymore? And more than that, how do you decide you don’t want to marry Harlow?
I pull into my driveway, then put the car in park.
Harlow’s staring straight ahead, his eyes fixed on my front door. “What am I gonna do?” he whispers, his voice going choked.
I hate hearing him in pain. It’s literally my worst nightmare. Knowing that Harlow is hurting and there’s nothing I can do to stop it is worse than any horror movie.
“Well, first, we’re gonna go inside,” I say, rubbing my thumb over the back of his hand. “And then we’re gonna wrap you up in a blanket burrito, and eat ice cream, and watch scary movies.”
He laughs again, but this time it’s hollow and detached. “You hate scary movies.”
Yeah, but I love you.
I clear my throat. “Anything for you, Harlow. You know that.”
“What kind of ice cream?”
“I have peanut butter fudge.”
It’s been our favorite kind since we were kids. I fully planned to drown my own sorrows in it when the wedding was over, but hey, it’ll work for Harlow too.
His lips curve into a weak smile. “Okay,” he whispers. “Let’s go in.”