Chapter 55
Fifty-Five
My thoughts rampage the entire drive back to Half Moon Bay.
Remy is engaged. I can barely wrap my head around it.
On the one hand, what the ever-loving fuck is he thinking?
He doesn’t even know this chick. Marriage is, ideally, a lifelong commitment, a proposition for your soulmate, not someone you met a few months ago at the lowest, most despairing time of your life.
On the other hand, it’s classic Remington. Impetuous, irresponsible, dick-forward.
Except he sure presents as a guy in love.
I roll my eyes. Right. It’ll be over before the wedding bells ring one note. I’m shocked there’s a date. That he asked me to be his best man. That I mumbled “of course” out of sheer duty. As his closest friend, part of me wanted to shake him.
But I couldn’t rain on his matrimonial parade. He’s fragile. Newly clean and sober. I just…couldn’t. My role is to support him now in whatever way I can, help him keep his train on the tracks.
My hand rakes through my hair and I exhale loudly.
That mindfuck is the tip of the iceberg.
Because not only is this entire situation ludicrous, but now I’m stuck with the shit job of breaking this news to Jacqui—and I can only imagine how much it’s going to hurt her.
She’s waited so long, worried about him every step of the way…
and this is how she finds out he’s essentially dumped her… without one word?
Remy is a coward. I understand he’s on a short leash at his parents’ house and the fiancée has no clue Jacqui exists, but for him to beg me to handle this for him is wrong—and a big fucking ask. Made all the worse by him whipping out the “I don’t want this to affect my recovery” excuse.
At the same time, it’s pay dirt. My get-out-of-jail free card. My ticket out of this ménage à trois. Now Jax and I can truly be together. Just the two of us. Like a ship that righted vs. wrecked. And I’m planning on sailing us right into the sunset.
Remy’s words cycle in my mind. “I know it sounds crazy, but I love her. We just…connected, more perfectly than I ever have with another woman. I can’t explain it, but it’s like she understands me even when I don’t say a word.
And she loves me unconditionally, even knowing I’m a fuck-up.
This is the real deal, bro. Spiritual and shit. ”
What the fuck do I know? Maybe she is the ideal partner for him. And if not, she’s in for a wild, probably unpleasant, ride. And I’m sure as hell not talking him out of it when he’s handing me my wish on a silver platter.
Exhaustion coats me when I make it home, but there’s no waiting on this phone call, even though the timing couldn’t be worse. I grab a beer, chug a quarter of it, and dial Jax, tossing up a silent plea for strength and the optimal words to communicate this egregious BS.
“Hello,” she answers quickly, and already her voice holds an edge.
“Hey, baby,” I say.
“How is he?” No small talk today.
“Healthy. And…happy.”
“So, what’s the deal?” Her tone is decidedly terse, almost angry.
It’s the moment of truth, and how the fuck do I say it?
“What is it? Something’s wrong. Just tell me—”
“Remy’s engaged.”
She lets out an incredulous snort.
Tilting the beer to my lips, I take another long swallow.
“Wait. Are you serious?”
My beleaguered exhale speaks volumes. “Unfortunately, yeah, I am.”
“B-but,” she sputters. “How? When? Why?”
“He met her in rehab and…things progressed.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. This chick is a drug addict? Solid choice.”
“She works there,” I clarify, “and apparently, they fell in love.” By each verbal cue she utters, I can visualize her falling apart, and it guts me. Fuck you, Remy. Fuck you right up your candy ass. For hurting her like this. For putting me in this position. For taking the chickenshit way out.
“I don’t understand,” she rasps. “He was only there a couple of months. How does he come out engaged? What about everything we shared?”
Knife, meet heart. “I’m sorry, baby. He’s almost a different guy.
He claimed he experienced a ‘spiritual awakening’ and now he’s got some…
vision or mission or purpose. He never wants to drink or use drugs again.
He’s in love. He’s…excited about life.” I grapple with explaining it properly because I’m still dumbfounded.
“And his parents are on board with this engagement?”
Of course they are. “She’s from a good family. They’re thrilled, gave it their blessing, think she’ll help him stay on track.”
“Did you meet her?” Jax whispers.
“No. She’s still working at the facility, but she’s moving here soon. They plan to get married in six months. They…already set the wedding date.” I choke that last part out, slamming the final nail in the coffin.
“He asked you to be his best man.” Her voice is flat and broken, the tenor of it sinking me lower.
“Mm-hmm,” I manage.
We’re both silent.
“I’m sorry, Jax,” I finally add. “For what it’s worth, Remy is too.” If he was standing in front of me, I’d wring his fucking neck.
“What bullshit.”
“I don’t know what to say. I can barely wrap my head around all this.”
“Whatever.”
“Don’t.” That comes out sharper than I intend.
“Don’t what?” she spits. “Be hurt? Incensed? Blindsided? Bewildered?”
“Christ. You should feel whatever you need to. But don’t take this out on me.”
“You know, Mick, right now you aren’t exactly topping my list of concerns.
If that makes me a selfish bitch, then so be it.
You want to know how I feel? After months of waiting—worrying—Remy comes out of rehab without a care in the world and a new fiancée.
The two best pals are together again, while Jacqui, the whore, is cast aside as if she never mattered. ”
Fury blazes a path through my veins. “That’s…
” I punch the wall hard, cracking the drywall.
Pain reverberates from my knuckles up my arm—and I barely register it.
“Although some of that may be true,” I grit, “you know damn well neither of us think of you that way. We fucking loved you. I still love you. Do not cheapen what we have with that dramatic bullshit.”
“I have to go,” she says weakly.
“Goddamn it! Don’t fucking do this.”
The next sound I hear is a click and she’s gone. I slam the handset against the cradle so hard it bounces off and drops to the floor. Leaving it, I punch the wall again and again until my fist breaches the sheetrock and plows through, my bellowed litany of cuss words echoing in the cottage.
Hours later, it’s pitch dark. Like my mind. Ruminating with bitter thoughts. The black is so all encompassing, it’s all I see. The anger cuts bone deep, as if a thousand daggers are lodged in my sternum.
I’m as rigid as a two-by-four, my eyes open but unseeing as they stare into the nothingness as time ticks by. When the phone rings, it goes ignored, barely piercing my shadows.
I expected Jacqui to be hurt. And she was.
I did not expect that I was not enough for her.
I did not expect that she wouldn’t see the silver lining.
I did not expect the avalanche of self-loathing that wraps me in its familiar embrace, snuffing out the glimmer of hope I tenuously held that Mick Callahan is worthy to someone. Anyone.
In this moment, the woman I love is dead to me.
I’m dead to me.
And unsure how to move forward.
I’ve never been happier than when I was with Jax.
I was even starting to think she could penetrate the impenetrable.
Maybe she was even The One.
A scoff leaves my lips, reminding me I’m a moron for presuming such a thing exists.
She made me believe I was worth a damn.
Until she didn’t.
I should know better.
I know what I have been, what I am, what I always will be.
Insignificant.
Unimportant.
Worthless.
The rage returns, eclipsing the black.
I’m not surprised when Jacqui shows up the next day. I haven’t answered my phone since our last call, and my mood remains morose.
She peeks through the big windows of the cottage and spots me. I don’t smile. And I don’t move from where I stand in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with my arms firmly crossed.
She hesitates by the front door then opens it, dropping her purse on the couch as she approaches, eyes wide and searching.
I’m giving her the cold shoulder, but it’s self-preservation at this point, and I’m angry and hurt and full of doubt. It’s a cocktail infused with bitter resentment, the kind you choke down because you must.
“Hey,” she whispers.
Rather than force words from my lips, I give her a curt nod.
“I’m sorry,” she blurts. “The way I acted…was really shitty.”
Another nod.
“Please, can we talk this through?”
My rancor bubbles forth. “I don’t know. Can we? I’m not sure what there is to say.”
Her face falls. “I don’t understand. I was upset, okay?”
I regard her cooly. “Here’s the thing, Jacqui. I’ve been about as patient as a man can be—more than a man should have to be.”
“I—”
“Let me finish. You asked a while ago if I had regrets about this whole party of three. I was honest. Yes and no. And I’ve done my damnedest to make this work, to love you, and fucking share you when I really just want you all to my fucking self.”
Her eyes shimmer, and I ignore the urge to backpedal.
“And then this shit goes down with Remy. Surprise, surprise…except it’s not.
Remy’s a fuckup, has been his entire, rich playboy-entitled life.
And a part of me wasn’t sorry in the slightest. What happened to him was a hundred percent his fault, on the heels of us trying to help him see reality for the past, what…
year? And the bonus? Having you all to myself. It’s been a fucking dream.”
Her throat bobs, and I forge on.
“And then you get angry with me about Remy’s shit? And shed a tear over Remy after all this? How do you think that makes me feel? Am I your consolation prize? Second choice?”
“No—”
“Does all this,” I say, gesturing between us, “mean nothing to you? Think about it for five fucking minutes. See my perspective. Not yours. Not Remy’s. Mine.” I bang my chest with that last word.
Her body sags. She chances a tentative step. “Mick.” Her voice cracks, and she swipes away the tears cascading down her cheeks. “I love you more than anyone…ever…in my entire life.”
My arms cross tightly again, as if that will keep the heart that’s fracturing underneath intact.
She inches forward, and I don’t stop her.
“You are my world,” she continues, her voice breaking again.
“My universe. You give me life, bring light to my dark corners, fill me with purpose and joy. You’re imprinted on my soul, own my heart, and you are the most beautiful man I’ve been lucky to know, inside and out. ”
Fuck. My vision blurs, my throat clogging with emotion.
“My life means nothing without you in it.” More tears spill from her eyes, and I’m struggling to keep my own shit in check.
“I have treasured every single second with you from the first moment. I never meant to make you think you’re less than anyone or anything. Mick…you are my everything.”
A tear escapes of its own volition, sliding down my cheek as I open my arms, forgiving her, and perhaps myself.
She falls into me, gripping me tightly as I pull her firmly against me. We cling to each other, the sorrow, regret, and love entwined between us.
“I’m so sorry,” she murmurs into my shirt.
My lips find her forehead and place a lingering kiss there. “Me, too.”
“I don’t want to lose you, Mick.”
“You won’t,” I manage, still fighting my own tears.
“I love you.”
“I love you so fucking much.”
When our mouths meet, it’s raw. Earnest. Full of pain and truth. And a desperation to stay fused.