45. The Grand Exit
WEST
The whole thing unravels so fast my brain can’t keep up, and neither can my legs as I run after Zach.
I can’t believe Foster was after Paige this whole time. And he’s the guy messing up this wedding! What a jackass!
When I finally catch Zach, a camera swoops in, probably trying to record every pixel of heartbreak on Zach’s face. I shoot the cameraperson a look that has them backing off. I mean, come on.
Zach isn’t slowing down, so I hustle after him, my shoes sinking into the sand and making me feel like I’m running through molasses. But every step, all I can think about is how Eva said my name during the vows.
What does that mean? Does it mean anything? It has to. Right?
Jesus. Focus, West.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Zach growls when we’re at the entrance to the resort. His jaw is set, a muscle ticking away.
“Lead the way.” I clap him on the back. We weave through the chaos. Once we’re in the lobby, I ask, “You okay, buddy?”
“Eh, you win some, you lose some,” Zach spits out as we tear through the resort lobby.
We split up and go to our separate rooms to pack. I toss my last pair of socks into the suitcase and slam it shut before heading over to Zach’s. When I arrive there, the room looks like a tornado hit, and he stands there, staring at his half-empty closet, the vacant hangers swaying.
“Hey, man,” I start, not sure how to navigate this shitshow. “What if we just... hijack the honeymoon?”
Zach spins around, eyes narrowing. “You mean the helicopter? The one meant to drop Paige and me onto our private island of love?” His voice drips with sarcasm.
“Exactly. It’s paid for. Might as well use it, right?”
A ghost of a smile flits across Zach’s face. “Screw it. Let’s do it.”
“Me, you, taking the chopper to the airport where we fly back to New York,” I say, trying to make it sound like an adventure.
“Damn straight.” He zips up his bag and heads for the door, determination back in his step. “But before we make our great escape, we have to get Balls.”
Balls, right. The dog I adopted from Zach. Except if Paige is out of Zach’s life, then he’s Zach’s dog again. My heart sinks at the thought of letting him go.
We find Balls sprawled on a dog bed in the conference room where the staffer is watching all the dog wedding party members. His tail thumps the mattress as we approach.
“Hey, buddy,” Zach says, squatting down to scratch behind Balls’s ears. “You ready to blow this popsicle stand?”
Balls licks his face, and I take a deep breath, preparing to say goodbye to the furball that’s been my best pal for three weeks now.
“Guess he’s your co-pilot now.” My voice is steady, but my chest is tight.
“West...” Zach looks at me, and there’s a war going on in his eyes. Gratitude, pain, brotherhood—all mashed up in one messy cocktail. “...thanks, man. For everything.”
“Ah, don’t get all mushy on me.” I slap him on the shoulder. “Just make sure he doesn’t pee on your lap. He does that when he gets too excited.”
“Deal.” Zach hoists Balls into his arms. We exchange a look, no words necessary. Because that’s the thing about best friends—they’ve got your back, even when love kicks you in the nuts.
And with that, we’re off—to reclaim a chopper and maybe a shred of dignity.
We stride out of the resort, and Zach’s jaw clenches as we spot Paige’s wedding party clustered around the archway.
“Son of a—she’s actually going through with it,” Zach spits out.
I squint against the setting sun, catching the glimmer of camera lenses turning our way. “Looks like they’re swapping one groom for another without missing a beat.”
“That’s messed up,” he grumbles.
An assistant producer jogs over, waving frantically, her headset askew. “Zach, wait! We need to—”
“If you stay where you are, you’ll have the best shot,” I cut in.
“Huh?” she says.
“We’ve got a grand finale planned.” I throw an arm around Zach’s shoulder and steer him away.
We reach the helipad where the chopper sits idling, rotors slicing through the heavy air. The pilot leans out, eyebrows raised.
“Change of plans,” I call out over the roar. “Any chance you can fly two heartbroken gents and one innocent canine to the airport?”
“Seriously?” the pilot shouts.
“Dead serious,” I confirm.
The pilot surveys the chaotic scene then nods, a sympathetic grimace on his face. “Hop in.”
“Thanks, man,” Zach says as he loads Balls into the helicopter, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“You better hope this doesn’t get me fired,” the pilot scolds.
“Me too.” Zach slaps the side of the chopper. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Strap in, boys,” the pilot advises, flipping switches and preparing for takeoff.
“Good riddance,” Zach mutters, his gaze lingering on the beach one last time.
“New beginnings, dude,” I remind him, even as my stomach knots. That applies to both of us.
“Damn straight.”
We lift off, leaving the chaos and the cameras far below.
The chopper vibrates with every thump of the rotors, a mechanical heartbeat that’s way too calm for the adrenaline cocktail in my veins. I hope we can get a quick flight to New York once we’re at the airport. Balls shuffles around on the seat, snout nudging against my hand.
“Traitor,” Zach teases, but there’s no bite to it. “Figures, I get ditched by my fiancée and my dog on the same day.”
“Hey, he just knows who gives better belly rubs.” I scratch Balls behind the ears the way he likes. The pup laps it up, tongue lolling out as he settles more firmly against my side.
“Keep him.” Zach’s voice is flat but resolute as he stares out the window at the receding coastline. “He at least deserves his happy ending.”
“Zach, man, I—” My throat tightens. It feels wrong to take his dog when he’s lost so much already. But Balls whines softly, pressing closer to me, and I realize some things choose themselves.
“Consider it a gift for saving my ass,” Zach finally turns from the window with a smirk.
“Thanks,” I say, my voice cracking a bit. Balls wags his tail as if he understands.
“No, thank you.” Zach’s typical mischievous glint returns to his gaze. “Because when we land in New York, you’re taking me to a strip joint. Non-negotiable.”
“You got it. Boobs and booze, the Zach remedy.”
“Yup.” His chuckle is genuine this time, a little of the old Zach peeking through this apparently minor heartbreak.
Balls yawns, content and oblivious to the complexities of human relationships. I glance at Zach, the set of his jaw, the determination in his eyes, and I know he’s going to bounce back from this.
Hell, we both will.