I clutched my chest—or rather I clutched the bottle to my chest—and scrambled to stand, but slid down the wall when my legs refused to work.
“Fuck,” I forced out on a loud exhalation.
“Sorry to startle you, sir.”
I winced when the image of him seemed to wobble. Or was that me sliding even farther between the stacks of spare chairs in the corner?
I liked Bryan, even if he was shimmering and blurry around the edges right now; he was a good manager who seemed to take everything in his stride, but I think even he was surprised to see me sitting in the storage room. Still, he couldn’t be as shocked as I was when I realized it was the one place I could be alone to come to terms with what had happened. I’d fled the confusing scene where the man I was marrying had said he didn’t want anything to do with me and where I’d had a major epiphany, that I’d never loved him either. Here I was, far away from the roses and lights of my wannabe wedding, dealing with a healthy dose of shame and embarrassment.
I took a breath and worked on sounding as if I were sober. “I’m okay, thank you.” I swear it sounded fine to me, but he frowned, so maybe I wasn’t making much sense. Was I slurring? I patted my mouth, but it was still there, so that was good. Right?
“You asked me to tell you when the final guests in the wedding party left.” Bryan referred to his clipboard. “I’m sorry, but bar one person, everyone has checked out,” he said.
“What person?” He frowned at me, that was probably privileged information. “Did my fia—Lennox—was it him who stayed?”
Bryan cleared his throat. “No, I’m sorry. The uhm…” he checked around the room as if he expected there to be other people here. “We haven’t officially had the keys returned for the cabin booked by Alastor Jeddard. Is he possibly a friend staying to support you?”
A friend? He was my former fiancé’s weird ass fucking brother, and someone who seemed to take great delight in telling me I wasn’t good enough to marry into the family. Asshole.
“He’ll be gone soon—he’s not staying for me,” I said, or at least, I think that is what I said. My voice seemed to echo. “S’okay though. I have my friend, champagne,” I observed, and hugged the bottle. “And lots of roses. Tons of them. All over.” I stared at the boxes of labelled bottles. “I guess it’s all mine now,” I observed, and then let out a snort of laughter. I might not have a wedding, or a fiancé, or anyone here to hug me and tell me it was okay, but I had champagne, and out in the main room there were roses and pretty twinkling fairy lights.
Alone.
My cell vibrated with a notification. I reached to get the phone out of my pocket, the bottle of champagne tipping and depositing bubbles all over Bryan’s shoes.
“Oops, my bad,” I slurred, managing to get my cell out at last—it was just Patrick trying to reach me. Again.
He never wanted to be here. He just wants to tell me that he told me so. I hate him for that.
I used to love him, but I hate him.
I don’t hate him. I wish he was here.
“Go away,” I shouted in my confusion, and swiped the call away.
Had I ever really loved Lennox as I used to love Patrick? Maybe I liked Lennox? Nah, I don’t know if I even liked Lennox, let alone loved him.
Still, I couldn’t parse every feeling I was having because champagne was softening my emotions, one heartbreak at a time. My cell vibrated again, and this time, I didn’t even bother swiping to cancel, just let it buzz away because I didn’t need Patrick congratulating me for marrying Lennox. Asshole. Instead, I tried my hardest to focus on Bryan and what he was saying to me.
I needed to apologize to him and his poor beleaguered staff—all of whom had gone all-out to make this day special—for what had gone down, and I glanced at Bryan who had an encouraging smile and compassion in his expression. God, I was going to cry if he was too nice, because I’m a sloppy, emotional drunk. “I’m sorry,” I hiccupped.
I should have called it off myself way back. I didn’t really want to marry Lennox, but I was lonely and swept along with it all, and I wanted… It was my last chance to have a family around me… I needed… I don’t know what to say.
“These things happen,” Bryan reassured me. “There’s no need for apologies.”
I scrubbed at my eyes. If only I’d put a stop to this mockery of a ceremony the first time I’d found Lennox kissing another guy, or maybe last night when I’d overheard him talking to Cody, his best man, about a trap to get his brother arrested or being trapped or something. I didn’t know for one minute why he’d arranged this marriage ceremony, but I’d heard him as clear as day, and if I’d asked him—if I could’ve listened to my gut—then I wouldn’t have been here now with the humiliation that caged my heart. I could’ve legitimately called off the wedding when I had doubts and not even been in the wrong given Lennox didn’t want to marry me either.
“Sorry,” I said anyway, but the word sounded odd in my head.
He nodded. “If any of my staff or I can help in any way, please let us know.”
Fuck. Please don’t be nice to me. Unshed tears ached in my throat, but I was about done with crying over being stupid and refused to let them spill.
“I didn’t mean for any of it to happen here.” I covered my eyes and shook my head, shame flooding me that I was such a sloppy drunk. I shouldn’t even be here. “I didn’t even want to marry him. I didn’t love him. I love Patrick, but he doesn’t love me back.”
After a moment of silence, I sensed Bryan sitting on one of the chairs a small distance away from me, and I peered up at him, but didn’t feel as if I could hold down a conversation.
“The hotel hasn’t seen this much excitement since one of our guests fell through the ceiling of the Lancaster room,” Bryan said in an encouraging and jaunty tone.
“There’s no hole mentioned in the brochure.” I was sobering up enough to joke—I needed to drink more.
“Maybe you never got to page ten,” Bryan deadpanned.
More silence, and it went from easy to awkward very fast. I wondered if he’d been searching for me to commiserate with, throw me out of the hotel, or whether he was here to take away my new friend, champagne.
“Well, Mr. Grady, I–”
“Declan,” I corrected him for what must have been the tenth time since we’d arrived, then ruined the effect by hiccupping again.
He inclined his head. “Declan, I was going to say that weddings are stressful at the best of times, and maybe with some reflection, your fiancé might return.”
There was only so much pity one man could take—I knew Lennox wasn’t coming back, as clearly as I knew we should never have been getting married in the first place. I wasn’t a pretty crier—all snot and bloodshot eyes—but if the manager of this beautiful hotel wasn’t careful with his kind words and compassion, I’d end up sobbing on his shoulder.
What happens next?
We sat in silence for a moment.
I sighed. “I need to go.”
All my luggage had already been moved to the honeymoon suite—the room where I’d planned to start the rest of my life. With rings on our fingers, and beautiful vows exchanged in the flower-strewn event room, I thought Lennox and I might find our way back to that first lust, and if not that, then at least to a permanent exclusive commitment. After the whirlwind courtship, the surprise marriage proposal, along with me doubting my feelings, the wedding had been conjured out of thin air, and I’d gone along with it because…