Chapter 10
Ten
F all semester begins, heralding my final year in college. The finish line is in sight, and I couldn’t be happier about it.
Mick whisks me away for an early birthday celebration over Labor Day.
We take four days and drive to the northeast corner of the state to Lassen Volcanic National Park, where we camp, hike to the top of Mt.
Lassen, frolic in the unusually warm Bathtub Lake, check out the fumaroles, mud pots, and boiling pools, and bask in each other’s company.
There is no place I’d rather be than in Mick’s orbit, especially when Mr. Nature is in his element.
Remy’s November nuptials loom large—the point of no return.
Not that I expect anything from that chickenshit, self-absorbed asshole at this juncture.
Any thoughts I once harbored of speaking with him—let alone attempting any sort of platonic friendship—evaporated after how callously he’s treated me.
Obviously, I won’t be Mick’s plus-one at the wedding, a fact that both grinds and relieves.
He should be free to bring his girlfriend.
Even if she formerly banged the groom. And despite that Mrs. Remington would throw me out on my ass.
But how excruciating (and awkward) would it be watching Remy get married…
especially with our unfinished business?
And how would his new wife take the news if she caught wind of our triad? It’s an impossible situation.
Mick provides the barest details when pressed—and morbid curiosity keeps me pressing—even when it leads to petty arguments.
“It’s just unfair you don’t get a say. I’m your girlfriend. I should be your date.” Bringing this up postcoitally probably isn’t my best timing.
“Jax,” Mick groans. “We’ve been over this.”
I roll away from him and light a cigarette, sitting up against his headboard and puffing with ferocity.
“Do you even want to be there?” he asks.
No, but I bristle at the exclusion. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? Just forget it.”
He sighs and guilt washes through me.
“Don’t you agree this whole wedding is a sham? Remy’s not even able to stay sober. He has no business getting married.”
Mick sits up and lights a Marlboro. “I’m surprised it’s gone this far, but it’s happening, and I hope for both their sakes that it lasts.”
“What about us, Mick?” It pops out before I can stop it.
His gaze snaps my direction. “What do you mean?”
“It’s just…your time is already spread so thin. Between our schedules, jobs, and you spending time with Remy in Oakland while I’m in San Jose… how long can we keep going like this?”
His eyes burn into mine. “And what, exactly, do you propose? I’m doing my fucking level best to manage this shit situation. Are you saying you want to call it quits?”
“No!” I squeeze my eyes shut take a deep breath. I need to chill. I’m not helping matters but goddamn it, I’m choking with irritation.
“Then what do you expect me to do?”
Good question. I suck the last of the nicotine into my lungs and smash the embers into the ashtray. “I’m sorry. I’m frustrated.”
He threads his hand through mine. “Baby, so am I, but it is what it is. There’s no manual for this, so please try and understand.”
The wedding promises to be a grand affair held at the palatial Claremont Hotel in Berkeley.
The sprawling, pristine white, Tudor-style hotel reeks of old-school elegance and only the grossly wealthy book it.
The Remingtons surely want to broadcast and boast to their friends and enemies alike with this event.
Honestly, I have a hard time picturing Remy being alright with it all…
he’s never been about those kinds of trappings.
Then again, maybe the newly reformed Remy isn’t anyone I’d recognize.
Mick’s already sporadic companionship becomes sparser as the Big Day nears.
He gets fitted for a tux, a vision I’m desperate to see. Because my guy devastates in Levi’s and… well, naked. Envisioning him in a black tuxedo? I can only imagine, but it’s a hell yes, please .
For the bachelor party, Mick charters a company boat to take Remy and guests out for a night on the bay. His childhood buddies Terry, Vinny, and Jeremy will all be in attendance, along with Remy’s brother, cousins, and a handful of other friends.
“Tell me there are no strippers,” I demand, only a little serious .
Mick laughs. “Is my baby jealous?”
“Nope.” I just don’t want you touching anyone but me.
“You’re cute when you lie.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Mick pulls me against him, resting his hands on my hips. “I did not coordinate any strippers coming aboard. I can’t vouch for the other guys, however.”
Harrumph . “If I know Jeremy…”
He shakes his head, giving me a lopsided smile. “You know I’m in love with you, right? There is no other woman alive who could or will ever top you. You’re it for me, baby.”
“God, I love you. You can say that to me every day for the rest of our lives.” I kiss him, infusing all my love into it, silently hoping one day we’ll be the ones getting married.
The warmth of that kiss fades when I don’t see Mick for days leading up to the wedding. He’s pressed into best man duties, labors over writing his speech, then departs for the rehearsal dinner and wedding itself.
I remind myself once this is behind us, we’ll carve out time together, find a new groove, allow our love to persevere.
We just have to get through this first.