38. The Boot
WEST
That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Telling Eva the truth knowing it wasn’t going to be reciprocated, but I did it, and now I can move forward—no regrets.
God, I should pull out of Groomsman to Groom feeling this way. Except I can’t do that. Eva and I are over before we started, and this show is my chance to save my parents and find my person.
Why would I give that up? Life is all about second chances, and this is mine. I’ll heal—I just need some time.
I try to shake off the feeling of complete and utter doom—tomorrow’s another day, another chance to put out fires—or start new ones. But for now, all I want is to crawl into bed and get sucked into the sheets.
I flop onto the mattress, and my tie feels like a noose around my neck. I yank it off. The dress shoes—which have been torturing my feet all evening—fly across the room, one landing with a thud against the closet door.
I grab the remote and thumb the power button. Starfleet and intergalactic diplomacy are always the best escape. But as the screen flickers to life, it’s not Captain Picard’s bald head that greets me—it’s Mia, and the Bridesmaid to BrideSpecial Wedding Weekend episode highlights are being re-shown.
I want to turn it off, but I can’t. I can’t because there on the screen are my parents, talking about their business ventures. “Our little shop brings pleasure to our clients,” Mom says with a huge smile.
I groan, watching Dad puff up like a turkey after Shitweasel’s snide remark, which you can’t hear. Bridesmaid to Bride isn’t permitted to show the senator or name him in any of the footage because of the contract they signed, but that doesn’t stop them from airing my parents. And without context, they just look like they’ve lost their minds. The fight erupts, and Mia says, “Paige and Zach’s rehearsal dinner became less black-tie, more WWE SmackDown.”
Then there’s me, jumping into the fray, defending my folks. My stomach churns with the knowledge that none of this will be forgotten anytime soon.
“Will there even be a happy wedding tomorrow?” Mia’s polished voice bursts from the TV, and my insides curdle.
Then the screen footage cuts to... Hayes? Hayes, who’s a behind-the-scenes photographer. He’s awkwardly standing there, a deer caught in the camera’s headlights. Mia’s voice chimes in again. “But let’s not forget the unsung heroes. Sometimes it’s the people behind the scenes who show true courage.”
“Heroic?” My face puzzles. “Hayes?”
What did he do? I manage a half-hearted grin because I can’t wait for this.
He’s on the beach taking shots of something and talking with Tyson, who’s behind the camera.
Someone cries out, and the camera moves to an elderly man clutching his leg. A circle of sunbathers gawks, smartphones out. Hayes dashes over to him, and I can see the red welt on the man’s leg.
“Ooh, a jellyfish sting.” I cringe. “Nasty.”
Hayes undoes his belt like a gunslinger in a showdown.
“Wait, is Hayes...?” I trail off, my eyes widening. “Is he doing what I think he’s doing?”
Oh, fuck no. But, yup.
Hayes whips out his equipment, which is blurred-out.
“He’s peeing on him.” I state the obvious, because what the actual fuck?
And they aired it on national TV. My jaw drops, and I’m torn between horror and hysterical laughter.
On the screen, the elderly man’s grimace softens, relief washing over his face. He reaches up, patting Hayes’ arm, and I can’t help but feel a warm fuzziness in my chest.
“Good job, Daddy!” August’s voice cuts in.
Mia’s voice floods the room again, her praise for Hayes oozing through the speakers. “Now, as it turns out, experts tell us you aren’t actually supposed to pee on a jellyfish sting. It can make the sting worse, so if this happens to you, use vinegar or go back into the ocean water. That said, in this case, it seemed to help the man. Regardless, Hayes, a widower and single dad, has become the true hero of this Wedding Weekend bonanza!”
Then the segment moves away from Hayes, and on the screen is the final blow.
It’s the footage of Eva and me entangled in each other again. And I’ve gotta say, we look damn good together.
“I’ve never wanted anyone so much,” my own voice declares, the confession ripped out of context and thrown into the ravenous weeds of prime-time television.
And there’s no denying it now, not with a nation full of eyewitnesses: Eva is my blaze, my hurricane, my recklessly beautiful disaster.
Mia’s wearing an overly perky smile. “So there you have it, folks, West Quinn is playing groomsman this weekend, but it seems he’s playing us all as he’s about to become our next Groomsman to Groom star!”
Oh, no. No, no, no.
I’m tempted to chuck the remote at her perfectly made-up face as she says, “Going as the next bachelor on our show while secretly falling for the bride’s twin sister?” Her eyebrow arches, and I can practically hear the collective gasp of the audience. “Maybe it’s time to move to another star who’s really looking for love. Maybe someone like Hero Hayes.”
“Fuck you, Mia,” I mutter, hitting the remote to turn off the TV. Then I reach for the whiskey bottle perched conveniently on the nightstand—courtesy of room service—and pour a shot with a heavy hand. I down the whiskey, welcoming the burn that follows. It’s nothing compared to the heat coursing through my body, but at least it’s something.
“Playing us all,” Mia said, and she wasn’t wrong. I never meant to end up here, tangled in a reality TV fiasco, my heart tied up in knots over an untouchable woman. If everyone only knew the truth of how much Eva’s taken over my brain cells, not to mention other parts of my body—and how much I can never have her.
“Congratulations, Weirdo West,” I mutter to myself, “you’ve now lost a second chance at love and the best shot to save your parents’ business.” I guess I’ll be selling my condo and moving into the apartment above Riley’s garage, which will be fine.
Except nothing about this feels fine.
I have to get out of here. I rush out of my room with the frenzy of a man on fire, trying to pull myself together. I’m walking so fast it’s practically a run—the urge to escape the mounting catastrophe overwhelming me.