Chapter 1
Harlow
"So what’s the verdict?" my brother, Quinn, asks as soon as I walk back out of the stall and into the hallway. I use the back of my forearm to wipe the sweat away from my forehead. My hands are dusty and dirty from being in the stall.
"Why yes, I’ll take a bottle of water." I side-eye him as I walk toward the sink in the corner, washing off my hands, and then heading straight to the kitchen at the end of the long concrete pathway. I pass the empty office that I used to help out in when I was a teenager, going over to the fridge and grabbing a water bottle. Opening the bottle, I down half of it before turning back to him. "God, that feels good."
"Can you not be such a pain in the ass?" Quinn huffs as he stands there in his blue jeans and white shirt, all put together with his cowboy boots. He puts his hands on his hips as he glares at me.
"I can," I say, putting the bottle on the counter next to me and leaning back on it. Crossing my arms over my chest, I then cross my feet at the ankles. My own boots are dusty and dirty. My scrubs that were clean now have some blood on them. "But then, what fun would that be?" I try not to smile, but when he groans, I can’t help the laugh that escapes me.
"I swear to all the saints in the world." He looks up at the ceiling. "Can you be professional for once?"
I stand. "One, me coming to see you on a Friday afternoon at three is fucking professional, especially since I don’t do calls on Friday." I point at him. "But since you made Grandpa call me like a pussy-ass bitch, I came out."
"One, I didn’t make anyone call you." He puts up one finger. "And two, he was just here, so he said he would do me a favor."
I roll my eyes, knowing full well that my grandfather took matters into his own hands, regardless of if my brother called me or not. "Yeah, yeah," I say, huffing out. "Anyway, he’s got mud fever."
"Shit," he swears, shaking his head.
"It’s not bad. Got to clean it a couple of times and keep it dry," I say, grabbing my jacket. "I’ll swing by tomorrow to see how he’s doing."
He nods at me as I walk out of the barn, my eyes squinting as the sun hits my face. I take a second to lift my face and feel the heat before walking over to my pickup as I make my way back to my practice.
The sounds of gravel crunching under my tires as I come to a stop. The trees all around block most of the sun from coming in, so it’s cooler. My boots also crunch when I walk toward the front stairs.
I’ve always had a vision of what my practice would look like, and when I showed my father, he made it happen. When it was time to discuss how I would pay him, he scoffed and informed me that it would just come to me when he died. I shake my head, thinking about it. Whenever they wanted to give you something or pay for something, they always brought up them dying.
I wanted the house to look like a log cabin, and when you walked in, the reception area was in the middle of the room with four rooms all around. Each room for a different type of animal. Behind those four rooms was where I did most of my work. The operating room was there, along with all the crates where we housed the pets we kept overnight. I can’t help the smile that comes to my face when I stand at the door and see my logo, H.B. Animal Veterinarian. I turn the brass handle to the door and walk in. The bell on top of me rings, making Donna, the receptionist, look up from her desk. Donna has been with me since day two when I started, and she came in with her cat. I am not going to lie, I was overwhelmed with the phone ringing, and then it was all just so much at once. She smiled at me, sat in the chair, and has been with me ever since. She makes sure everything is neat and organized, so I get to do what I love best, which is work with the animals.
"Hey," she greets, and I look around to see that no one is waiting for me. The two wooden benches under the front windows are empty.
"Is this a dream?" I ask, trying not to get too excited. "Is there no one here?" I am even tempted not to walk in, afraid I’m going to hear a bark from one of the rooms with the closed doors.
She leans back in her chair. "You’re welcome," she says, and I look at her. "I made sure that I booked you this afternoon off." My mouth hangs open. "You are going on forty-five days in a row of work."
"Forty-seven." I walk to the counter. "But hey, who’s counting?" I lean on the counter. "I love my job." I close my eyes, and I swear I could probably fall asleep sitting in a chair.
"You have mail." Donna points at the stack of letters that sit at the end of the counter. I just nod at her, grabbing the pile of letters. Looking down at the first one, I then slowly move my finger to flip to the second.
"Thank you." I keep flipping one after another. The big white square one catches my attention. I stop and see my name addressed on the front of it. Dr. Harlow Barnes.
"Looks like a wedding invitation," Donna says, and I turn it. My heart stops in my chest, and I’m finding it so hard to breathe. My hands drop everything else while I run my finger under the little sticker at the end.
Pulling out the white card, I can’t move. My breaths come out almost in pants, and I feel as if I’m having an out-of-body experience when I see the words written at the top of the white card in purple writing.
You are cordially invited to the wedding of
Travis Baker & Jennifer Garner
My feet automatically move across the floor toward my office. "Are you all right?" Donna asks, and I mechanically nod my head up and down.
"You can take off." My voice comes out without cracking, and I’m even shocked. The lump forms in my throat as I close the door behind me. My eyes never leave the top of the invitation. "He’s getting married," I say the words out loud, the pain in my chest throbbing. "Oh my God." I grab my cell phone and call my cousin, Amelia, who answers after one ring.
"Hello," she says, and I can hear her kids in the background.
"Hey," I reply, and my voice cracks finally. "You will never guess what I just got." I blink away the tears, but one of them escapes and runs down my cheek. "You’ll never guess," I say, sniffling, and I can hear a door close in the background, and it goes quiet.
"Where are you?" she huffs, and I can hear her moving fast and then the slam of a car door.
I close my eyes, listening to her start the car. "I’m in my office." I lean back in my chair, my eyes still closed.
"I’ll be there in five." She disconnects, and I’m not sure I would be able to move anyway.
The phone drops from my hand, and I wonder if this is really happening or if it’s a bad dream. It has to be a bad dream. Why in the world would this happen? I pick up my phone and text Rachel.
Me: Did you get something in the mail today?
I don’t know how fast she will get back to me. In the past four years, the four of us have kept in touch. We usually see each other every couple of years, but I’ve kept in touch with Rachel almost monthly.
My phone rings in my hand, and I look down to see it’s Rachel. "Hello," I answer, putting it on speakerphone.
"Please tell me you did not get a wedding invitation to his wedding!” she shrieks out. I can just imagine her face right now, and I laugh but it comes out with a sob. "Jesus Christ, why the fuck would he invite you to his wedding?"
"I have no idea," I say. "The last time I saw him was when he broke up with me," I lie. The actual last time I saw him was the day before I left to come home. I stupidly took one more walk to his place and saw him walking out. His head was down, and he had a hat on his head. Sunglasses hid his eyes. My heart sank to my feet, and I turned around and cried the rest of the way home.
"Lydia just texted that she got the invitation also," Rachel says. "And from what she is saying, so did Victoria."
"I just don’t understand it," I finally say out loud. "Why the fuck would he invite me to his wedding?"
"I have no idea," she says, huffing out and then laughing. "But I know that if there is ever a time for some sweet tea, it’s now."
"That sounds like a great idea." I look up at the ceiling when the door slams. "I have to go. I’ll call you back later," I say and disconnect when my office door flies open.
"What happened?” Amelia asks, standing in front of me, and it looks like she’s wearing pjs.
"What are you wearing?" I ask, and she looks down at herself.
"It’s been a day," she states, coming in, and I laugh.
"You think your day is going bad," I say, picking up the white square paper in front of me and handing it to her. "I win."
She reaches out her hand to grab the white paper, and I let it go. Her eyes go to the top, and I know the minute she sees his name because they widen, and she looks back at me. "Shut the front door!” she shouts, and all I can do is nod my head. “Unbelievable. Who does this?"
"I have no idea," I say honestly, getting up and walking over to the cabinet that I keep the sweet tea in. "Rachel and the girls also got the invitations." I twist open the top and take a swig, then look over at her, offering her the bottle. She just shakes her head, and I take another gulp of it. "Why the fuck would he invite me to his wedding?" I look over at her and wait for her to answer.
"Oh, I thought you were asking the question and then were going to answer it yourself," she says, going to the couch in the corner and sitting on it. "Well, let’s look at this."
"Yes, please, let’s look at this," I say sarcastically, taking another swig of the bottle, the heat rising up in my body. I know that this is the sign when I should stop taking shots. It’s the telltale sign that nothing good is going to come if I continue. "He breaks up with me two weeks before I have to write my exam." I hold up my finger. "And then." I take a swig and look at her. "I don’t know if there is anything else after that."
"You dated for two years," Amelia points out, and I glare at her. "This is a huge deal."
"You don’t think I know this," I retort, my voice going higher. The nerves in my body start, and my feet move on their own, pacing back and forth. "It’s Travis." Saying his name feels foreign to me, yet feels like coming back home. "He was my everything." I take another sip of the tea. "I was going to…" I stop talking, knowing that this walk down memory lane will help no one.
"You were going to marry him." She fills in for me.
"I mean, if he would have asked, yes, I would have," I admit to her. "But apparently, Jennifer is the one for him."
"Well, imagine his surprise when you put down that you aren’t going," Amelia says, and I look over at her. "You aren’t going."
"I promised." The words come out in a whisper. "I promised that I would be there at the happiest day of his life."
Her mouth opens. "Well, promises can be broken." She stands up. "You are not going. That would be crazy. How does he even introduce you? Honey, this is Harlow. We went out in college?" She shakes her head. "It’s not a good idea." She grabs the bottle from me. "And neither is drinking this shit when you’re mad. You’ll make bad decisions."
"You aren’t even wearing a bra." I point at her, and she gasps and covers her nipples.
"I rushed over here," she huffs. "Because I thought you were in need."
"I am in need," I confirm to her. "I’m in need of a date to go to my ex-boyfriend's wedding!” I yell.
"I’m going home," she announces. "Are you coming?"
"Did you make dinner?" I ask, and she glares at me.
"I haven’t put on a bra. You think I made dinner?" she says with her teeth clenched.
"Gosh, just asking," I say and start to walk out of the office with her. "If you want, I can cook."
"The last time you tried to cook, the fire department had to come to your house." She looks over her shoulder at me.
"That was because I forgot I put the pot on the stove and then went to take a bath." I stop moving. "I’ll meet you there," I say, turning around and walking back into my office.
I grab the white envelope and take it out. The pen is in my hand next as I click off the “will attend” with my name “Harlow Barnes.” Sealing it back in the envelope, I toss it in the mailbox at the corner. "It’ll be fine," I say as I open the mailbox and place the envelope in it. "I’ll go and fulfill my promise, and then we can all move on." I close the lid and let go of the breath in me. "And I’ll never see him again."