Chapter 11
Ace
I step forward to grab our two glasses while Bennett waves the bottle of sweet tea in my face. I glare at him and shake my head, then turn to look at Shelby. "Lead the way."
She turns to walk toward the back of the room. The smell of roses fills the room, and I look around to see the decorations. "Not going to lie," I say when we walk past the white dance floor with the letter S and J in the middle. "This looks nothing like you would do for your wedding."
She stops and looks at me. "Really?" she asks.
"It's so white," I observe. "I mean, it's beautiful, don't get me wrong, but"—I look around—"it's just so white."
I look back at her, and at this point, I think I've offended her. Maybe I don't know her as much as I think I do. "So what would you imagine if this was, in fact, my actual wedding?” She folds her arms over her chest as she stares at me.
"Well, for one, I would add color like red and peach," I reply, knowing those are her favorite colors. "And I'd add some green in here somewhere and take off all this white shit." I point at the ceiling, then look back at her, and her eyes are roaming around the room.
"I'm not saying you’re right," she huffs. "Because my sisters spent lots of hours making it perfect." She turns and starts to walk.
"But I'm not wrong either." She looks over her shoulder, and I can see her smirk.
"If you say anything about this dress," she says, and all I can do is watch her walk away. The back of her dress is sheer but has buttons from the middle of her back until her waist.
"You'd look good in a potato sack," I reply, catching up with her as we walk out of the event space and into a hallway that leads to an outside door.
The sound of her shoes clicking on the marble echoes until we get to the end of the hallway, and she pushes open the side door. "Is this a secret lair?" I look around at the pathway to the back of a house.
"No." She laughs. "It's just a secret entrance." She holds up her dress on the side as she walks down toward the house. "But I guess it could be considered a lair."
The sun looks like it's going down, and the sky looks orange. She pulls open the back door of the house, and I step in and smell the flowers right away. "What is this?" I step farther into the room. White potted roses are everywhere. "Oh my God, what is this?" I spot the white couch in the middle of the room next to two more potted roses.
"It's the bridal suite." She walks over to the platter of fruit and picks up a strawberry.
"It's almost as bad as in there." I point at the door we just walked into while I walk over to the couch and sit down. "Horrible." Putting the bottle of whiskey down and then the glasses, I grab the bottle and turn the cap, listening to the snapping sound and then pouring two glasses. "This should make it better." I hold a glass up for her, and she comes and takes it.
She swallows it down and then coughs. "Why does it have to be so gross, even after all these shots?" She grimaces.
"I think we have to do it like one after another, and it has to be quick." I snap my finger, and she shakes her head.
"I need help." She spins in front of me, showing me her back. "Can you unbutton me?" She moves her hair to the side so I can unbutton her.
I get up, and my hands shake right before I start to unbutton the first little white satin button. My heart speeds up, and all I can do is focus on one button after another. "How many buttons are there?" I ask after I get past ten, my eyes trying not to focus on the fact I'm getting really close to her ass. "Too many." She laughs, and my hands shake the whole way. I'm pretty sure that the whiskey is fucking with my head right now.
"There you go," I announce when I get to the last button and push her dress open. Her hand flies to the front of her dress.
"Ooof," she says right before it falls, leaving her topless. "Thank you," she says as she walks away.
"Do you need me to help you take it off?" The words come out of my mouth, and even I'm surprised that they did. She looks back at me, her eyes going big now. "Oh, I don't mean it like that." I shake my hand in front of her. "I just meant it's big." I motion with my hands by my sides, and I really fucking hope the floor opens up and swallows me. "Not that you’re big. I mean, there is a lot of dress there."
"Are you done?" She laughs as she looks at me, holding the dress to her chest.
"I'm going to just sit here and drink," I say, and she nods, walking into the other room. "What the hell is wrong with you?" I mumble to myself, shrugging off my jacket and tossing it on the floor. It's not like I need it anymore anyway. I sit down and pour half the glass of whiskey, taking a gulp and waiting for her to come back into the room.
"That's better," she says when she comes into the room, and I see her wearing white satin pajama pants with a matching short-sleeve button-down shirt. Bride is embroidered on the left side of her shirt.
"Is there anything in here that doesn't scream bride?" I ask as she plops down next to me on the couch. She leans forward, filling her glass with just as much whiskey as I have.
Curling her feet under her, she takes a sip of the drink. "Definitely not the tattoo I got on the base of my back."
I stare at her, shocked. "You're joking." I don't know if she's telling me the truth or not.
When she rolls her eyes and laughs out loud, I breathe a sigh of relief. "Of course I'm joking." I pick up the glass of whiskey and take a gulp of it when she says, "It's on my vagina." And the whiskey goes everywhere. I cough and choke the whole time, and she doesn't even move to help me. She doesn't do anything but take a drink of her own whiskey.
"I'm choking," I say between breaths, and all she does is slap me on the back.
"Drink more whiskey. You'll feel fine." She takes another shot, and she looks like she's going to gag. "Horrible."
I take a gulp of the whiskey, and it burns going down from all the coughing. "I'm going to go out on a limb and say this is the worst day of my life." I look over at her, waiting for her to agree with me.
She nods. "That was what I was thinking," she points out, "yesterday." Bringing the glass back up to her mouth, she takes a bigger gulp.
"Why didn't you call and tell me?"
"Would you have been able to not punch him in the face?" she asks, and I look up at the ceiling.
"Not even close," I admit. "If you would have called me last night, I don't know what I would have done to him to be honest. He spent the night fucking drinking, and I kept thinking that it was just cold feet."
"More like polar ice," she jokes, and I laugh. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I don't know why I did what I did, but I wanted him to hurt as much as I did when I read his words." She puts her arm on the back of the couch and lays her head on it. "I wanted to make him feel as small as he made me feel." She blinks away the tears as she tries to stay strong.
"Honestly, my head is going around and around in circles." I lift my arm to twirl it in a circle, and it feels like it's five hundred pounds as it just drops back down.
"That's the whiskey." She laughs at her own joke, and her eyes are so crystal blue now.
"It was spinning even more without the whiskey." I chuckle. "Now it's just like a slow-motion spinning."
"If it makes you feel better, I'm sorry you found out like this." Her voice is low and almost a whisper. "I hate that this happened to you." She smiles at me sadly. "I wish it was anyone but you."
"What do we do now?" I ask, taking a pull of the whiskey.
"I don't know about you, but I leave tomorrow," she says, her voice clear as day, and I sit up confused.
"Tomorrow?" I shriek. "What the fuck? That was not the answer I thought I would get. I thought you would be like let's go throw shit on their houses." I hold up my finger. "Or let's go spray-paint both their cars with cheaters on them." I hold up a second finger. "Or toiler paper their houses, or I don't know what else we could do, but why are you leaving?"
She throws her head back and laughs. "Well, for one, two of those will probably get us thrown in jail." She brings her glass up to her lips.
"Well, where the hell are you going?" I ask, surprised at this whole announcement. "How long are you going for?"
"One week." She holds up her finger. "White water with blue sandy beaches." She laughs now. "Pina coladas by the chair in the pool." Her words are all messed up.
"Wait a second." I sit up, finally catching on. "You're going on your honeymoon?" I look over at her. "Alone."
"No." She giggles, and I know that she's drunk. "I'm not going alone, silly." She continues giggling and leans over and bops my nose. "I'm taking you with me."
I put my glass down on the table in front of me and look back at her. "I'm sorry, what the fuck is in this whiskey?" I inquire, and all she can do is giggle.
"I made all the arrangements last night," she tells me as if it's nothing. "One week all-expenses-paid vacation. With open bar." She holds up the glass of whiskey, shaking it left and right, and it spills out on her. She rubs it clean with her hand, and her white pants have brown stains on them.
"I can't go with you on your honeymoon," I say finally, and she just looks at me. "That would be so weird."
"Suit yourself." She gets up now, looking around. "I'm hungry." She sits back down, her eyes closing. I move to the edge of the couch as she lies down. "But if you change your mind, the plane leaves at seven."