Chapter 3
Matt
Guess whose name is on my manifest today? That’s right. A Ms. Cadence Griffith. With a time request of four p.m. And guess what? It’s four p.m., so I’m pulling up to her house right now. And I expect her to be home, seeing as she requested a specific time. But maybe not. Only time will tell.
Except time isn’t on my side. My cell phone buzzes in my pocket as I take her small package up to her door. I almost decide to ignore it, but the tiny tug that says it might be Joyce makes me reach into my pocket for my phone.
Lo and behold, it’s her. Calling again.
I’ve successfully ignored her for two days, but I don’t think it’ll last much longer. I wish I could stop giving her this power over me, but we both know I’ll wear down eventually. Things didn’t end well, and maybe I’m still waiting for the closure that never came. The second chance she wishes we’d have won’t ever happen, but that doesn’t mean my feelings for her completely vanished. No matter how awful she was when we were together or how much she lied to me.
The voice that tells me maybe she’s changed, maybe she’s the old Joyce again, stops me in my tracks and makes me answer my phone. Naturally, Cadence opens her front door as I hear Joyce’s voice for the first time in two years.
“Matty? Is that really you?” she asks, hope tumbling down the line.
I catch Cadence’s gaze as I reply, “Yeah. It’s me.” Then I kick a rock on her driveway and hold one finger up.
Cadence nods at me, her own cell phone pressed to her ear. Her slim-fitting workout pants cut an impressive figure. She turns a shoulder toward me to give me my space and continues her conversation as I continue mine.
“What do you need, Joyce?”
“I’m so glad you answered,” she says as Cadence peeks over her shoulder at me. After a moment, Joyce continues. “I was hoping you’d be available to meet for coffee. I’d really like to speak to you.” Both confidence and nervousness ring out in her voice.
My nose flairs while I stare at the woman I’d rather be speaking to. The woman who can crush me with a word is waiting for my response though, and my heart feels pulled in all the wrong directions. It’s not like I have anything with Cadence, but that’s probably because Joyce ruined me when she left.
In the end, I exhale deeply. “When and where?” I grit out.
Joyce makes a small squeaking noise on the other end of the line before releasing a deep, likely relieved breath. “How about The Steam Room on Main? Tomorrow. Nine a.m.?”
A sharp pain sears my gut at the mention of The Steam Room. That was our place. But, seeing as I’m in a rush, I agree without much thought. “Fine. I’ll be there.” Then I end the call and stuff my phone into my pocket. I’ll deal with that when the time comes.
Tomorrow. Definitely not right now. Which is probably why I’m still caught up in the mess. Not dealing with things has been my specialty as of late, and that’s apparently not working for me anymore.
As I walk up Cadence’s driveway, I catch part of her conversation.
“Right. Ten tonight. No, ten o’clock. Tonight.”
Well, consider my curiosity piqued. I stop short of her porch and hold the package out, hoping she won’t take it quite yet so I can keep listening. To my luck, she doesn’t. Instead, she holds one finger up for me to wait, which I gladly do. I smile back and hold the package at my side, pretending not to listen while actively eavesdropping on her conversation.
“Yep. At Pure. You know, that new bar downtown? That’s where we’re meeting tonight at ten,” she repeats. Then she sighs, sounding exasperated. “Of course I’m not bringing someone or meeting anyone there. I’m not attached, remember?” At me, she gives me an embarrassed-looking tilt of her lips and mouths, “Sorry.” Then, into the phone, she says, “Well, I haven’t started dating again, so no. No one’s coming with me.”
I wave a hand to dismiss the whole thing. All of this is good news for me. No boyfriend or husband—that’s a plus. Well, she only said she wasn’t attached. I guess there could still be a girlfriend or a wife. But maybe she swings both ways. I’d be okay with that if it means a night between the sheets with her.
If she wants me, of course.
Something about this phone conversation leads me to believe she does though. Why else would she be okay with a stranger overhearing where exactly she’s going to be tonight if she didn’t want him to know? Hmm. I mentally go over my plans for the evening, which are exactly none.
I do have tomorrow morning’s coffee meeting with Joyce though, and instead of sitting at home and stressing about it, I could totally hit the bar and “accidentally” run into Cadence. Sounds solid to me. Kind of stalkerish, but also solid. And also like she’d totally know what I was up to seeing as she knows I can hear her conversation. Which is yet another reason why I think she wanted me to hear. Unless she’s talking to a guy.
“For the last time,” she huffs out, “Pure, ten o’clock tonight, and I’ll be alone. See you there, Gina.”
Gina. That’s definitely a woman.
Cadence ends her call and looks at me. “Sorry. My sister’s bachelorette party tonight.” She points at the phone and then to herself. “Maid of honor duties call.” Her smile is slightly awkward but one hundred percent charming and adorable.
But that’s all I get to see of it. Her phone rings again, which startles her so much that she jumps. A laugh bubbles out of her mouth as she snatches the package from my hand before I get to say a word. Then she rips her door open and shoots inside.
A muffled, “Thank you!” comes from behind the closed door. Then a soft pounding sound.
I pull my eyebrows down and stare at her house. What the hell just happened? Shaking my head a little, I take a deep breath and then let it out in a rush. That felt like a lot of mixed signals, a lot of things I could read into but probably shouldn’t.
Instead, I head back to my truck, dig my phone out of my pocket, and pull my list of contacts up to find one person in particular. Then I call him. When he answers, I glance over my shoulder at Cadence’s house. As soon as I get into the driver’s seat, I ask one question.
“Hey, Aidan. Wanna crash a bachelorette party tonight?”
∞∞∞
Cadence
“What was that?” I whisper-cry to myself as I bang the back of my head against the door for the fourth time.
I’m going to give myself a good knot back there if I do that again, but I deserve it. I chickened out big time. What was supposed to be a simple conversation of “Hey, maybe you and I could get to know each other so it won’t be weird if I suddenly ask you to be my date to my sister’s wedding in two weeks” turned into “I’m a chickenshit and have to pretend to be on a phone call so you’ll ‘accidentally overhear’ the details of where I’ll be tonight so you’ll maybe show up and I can explain all of this after I’ve had a few drinks.”
Good thing I didn’t think of being drunk before he showed up to deliver my package. Day drinking wouldn’t look good on me. And, with my luck, my mom would have stopped by again and I’d have been hammered six ways to Sunday, which wouldn’t have been good. I was likely going to have a couple tonight anyway, so this is better for my liver. Even if it’s not better for my heart, which is pounding like a jackhammer.
Deep breath. Hopefully he’ll show up tonight and I can explain. And not make a jackass out of myself again. God, maybe it’d be easier to just tell my mom that I lied. That I made it up. Or that Brian can’t make it after all. Oops. No harm, no foul. Yes, that’ll be my backup plan in case the delivery guy doesn’t show up.
Whew. That actually makes me feel better. My heart starts to calm down, and I can breathe more easily. Everything will be fine. At least, until the wedding. After that, well… I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.
For now, I have a bachelorette party to get dressed for.
****
“What are you looking for?” Gina asks me for the third time. She sets her drink on the table, fixes her BRIDE tiara-slash-veil thing, and stares at me while her friends dance a few yards away. “Seriously, you’re worrying me.”
“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m not looking for anything.” Because I’m looking for an anyone, I don’t say. But the thought is there as I sip the last of my second margarita.
Because I’ve been training for a marathon and busy working a high-pressure job, I haven’t had an alcoholic beverage in at least a year. Having two margaritas was probably a bad idea, but the shots the girls have insisted we do were worse ideas. And my words probably came out all slurred, but I can’t even recall.
“You totally are,” she persists. Then she takes a gulp of her drink. “It better be a guy. Oooh!” She half-assed punches my arm, a little sloppy from all the free bachelorette drinks she’s received tonight. “Is it Brian? Mom told me about Brian.” The way she stretches his name out gives me goose bumps.
I whip my head in her direction. “Shh!”
“Hey!” She swats at me and scowls. “Don’t ruin my amazing bachelorette party!” Her expression quickly turns into a relaxed grin. “By the way, you did amazing. This is amazing. Thank you. Oh!”
The song changed while she was talking, and she points to the ceiling like that’s where all the speakers are.
“This is my jam! Oooh!” She grabs her drink and heads back to the dance floor with her friends.
Inside, I’m pleased. I’m glad she’s enjoying her party. And I’m glad I can scratch this off my long list of maid of honor duties. I didn’t do a whole lot besides let the bar know we were coming. We happen to be here on a popular night, so lots of people are excited about why she’s here, which is fun for her.
I’m also thrilled that she seems to have forgotten about Brian. But I haven’t. I can’t. Did he take the hint? Can he please show up before Gina’s friends get me so drunk that I can’t see two feet in front of me?
Like I summoned him with my words, I spot him walking over to the bar on the other side of the room. He’s with another man, who I suddenly hope isn’t his boyfriend. That may derail things. I mean, he could still accompany me to the wedding, but nothing more could happen.
Do I want nothing more to happen? Drunk Cadence wants lots more to happen. He’s rather sexy in street clothes. Going-out clothes. Clothes he might have put on because he knew he’d run into me. I mean, don’t get me wrong. He’s rather sexy in his package delivery uniform too. But nice jeans and a button-down? Hallelujah.
He wouldn’t have come and brought his boyfriend, right? That would make no sense. But I’m suddenly determined to go up to him and ask. I want to know right this minute.
It’s perfect timing too, because all the bachelorette party women head back to the table and start chanting, “Shots! Shots! Shots!” Their squeals can probably be heard at the craft store two blocks over.
Slinging my tiny bag over my shoulder, I narrowly miss bumping right into one of the ladies—I think her name is Makayla or Makenzie—as I make my way toward the bar. My sister nabs my arm and whines at me, but I point to my empty glass and make the universal hand gesture for drinking.
“Get me one!” she shouts in my direction.
At least, I think that’s what she said. And I know she doesn’t need another one. Definitely not one I have to pay for when she’s gotten free drinks all night. I don’t tell her that though. I just keep walking—or stumbling—over to the bar. Right toward Brian. Or whatever his name really is. He’ll have to be Brian for a while. And straight if he’s not.
God, was I drunk when I came up with this plan? What is wrong with me?
I start really pondering that question just before I reach him, but the more I think about it, the more I wonder what’s wrong with me at this very moment. And not in the mental-capacity way. Even though my body seems to be preparing itself for actually speaking with this sexy man. No, I’m questioning it more in the physical way.
No, seriously, my stomach lurches and my throat starts to burn the second I tap Brian-or-whatever on the shoulder. As soon as he faces me, my eyes begin to water and my body floods with heat.
“Hey!” he says, smiling at me. But his smile slides into a concerned frown. “Whoa, are you okay?”
My mouth fills with saliva and I gag right in front of him. Wonderful.
So, instead of demanding if that’s his boyfriend next to him, I spin around and rush to the bathroom, one hand covering my mouth and the other clutching my small purse to my body. In the only open stall, I lose the contents of my stomach—and hopefully some of this buzz.
Or maybe not. Seeing as I did, in fact, make a jackass out of myself yet again. Hopefully I lose the memory of this night completely.