I was more nervous getting ready for Mason’s wedding than I had been for my own.
In fact, I hardly remembered my own wedding. My ex had made every decision, and her wealthy father had paid all the bills. I showed up in a tux, repeated some words, watched her slide a ring on my finger, put one on hers, and mostly stayed out of the way after that. Honestly, I didn’t feel much of anything, probably because I was doing my best to ignore the gut feeling telling me marrying Kimberly was a mistake.
She was a local television news reporter in San Diego, but she was hoping to move into broadcast journalism on a national level at one of the giant news networks. I figured she’d probably achieve it, since she was smart and articulate, beautiful in that TV personality sort of way with the shiny hair and the super white teeth, but beyond that, she was the most ambitious person I’d ever known, and when she wanted something, she went after it with everything she had. Including me. I had no idea why she’d wanted to get married so badly, but we’d only been dating for about six months when she started dropping hints.
I told her I’d never planned to get married. She liked that—a challenge.
I told her I didn’t want kids. She said she didn’t either—in fact, she said I should get a vasectomy before the wedding.
I reminded her how often I traveled for work, that I was only home about half the time. She said she was fine with that—it would make the nights I was home more special.
And she asked me if I really wanted to spend the rest of my life alone, an empty bed every night, a silent house. I had to admit there was something off-putting about that. The guys I’d known in the Navy were all married with families now. My co-workers all had wives and kids. Being the odd man out as I got older wasn’t all that appealing. At least if I got hitched, I’d have a plus-one. And honestly, her need to be the center of attention suited me. It kept conversations and eyes focused on her.
So I said okay. Bought the ring she’d picked out. Popped the question at the restaurant where she’d made a reservation. Tried not to grimace when the photographer she’d obviously hired approached and asked to take some photos, which showed up later on Kimberly’s social media, filtered to death and accompanied by hashtags like #DiamondsAreAGirlsBestFriend and #Blessed.
And I had the vasectomy.
The wedding was a monster affair that took her longer to plan than our actual marriage lasted. Which was mostly because she hit her thirty-fifth birthday and realized a few things, not the least of which was that she did want to be a mom, she hated how often I was gone, and when I was home, she said I neglected her emotional needs—I was too closed off.
Within months, she fell in love with a producer at the station, announced she was leaving me, and moved in with him. They were married now, and last I heard, she was pregnant.
And I was preparing to attend my grown son’s wedding, the memory of hot phone sex with his ex-girlfriend fresh on my mind. The woman I’d sworn to myself I wouldn’t touch. The one I’d promised Mason I hadn’t touched. The one I couldn’t stop thinking about touching again.
But I wouldn’t.
Last night had been a good time but a bad decision, a whiskey-influenced reaction to jumbled-up feelings—anger, guilt, loneliness. When my phone lit up with Millie’s message, I’d jumped at the chance to escape my reality and indulge in fantasy instead.
At least we hadn’t done anything in person. Was phone sex even technically sex? Generally, I was someone who saw things in black and white, but I felt there might be some room for interpretation there.
Still. It couldn’t happen again. No matter that she made me feel younger and more alive than I’d felt in years—she was off limits.
I frowned at myself in the bathroom mirror and straightened my tie. Readjusted the knot. Smoothed my lapels. Checked my zipper. I ran a hand over my beard, dismayed that there seemed to be more gray in it than I’d noticed yesterday. Picking up my hairbrush, I smoothed the hair back above my ears. After setting it down again, I studied my reflection and noticed the two furrows between my brows. They made me look old and tense. I tried to relax my facial muscles, but the lines remained.
I turned off the light.
There. Much better.
Millie hadn’t lied about keeping things professional. She was cool and businesslike as she reminded everyone where to go and what to do, dealt with everyone from musician to photographer to florist to officiant with courtesy and efficiency, and got the ceremony going on time.
We only made eye contact once, when greeting each other, but stayed a good five feet apart. I think she nodded in my direction. I shoved my hands in my pockets.
After waiting in a back room, I played my part dutifully, escorting Lori’s mother to her seat and taking a chair opposite her in the front row. Mason and his groomsmen were already in place, and he smiled nervously at me and pushed his hair off his face with that familiar gesture. I returned the smile, hoping it was reassuring, although I knew all eyes were on me, wondering who I was and why I’d walked Mrs. Campion up the aisle but sat on the groom’s side. The only other guests in the front row with me were a gay couple Mason was close to through his running club and his mentor teacher, plus her husband.
Lori’s side was much fuller, and I was glad I’d shown up for Mason, even though I wasn’t comfortable and already wondered how long I had to stay at the reception.
When the ceremony was over, I walked back down the aisle solo and went straight for the bar at the far end of the room. I was standing off to one side sipping a cocktail and trying to be invisible when Mason found me. “Hey, Zach.”
“Hey, Mason.” I shook his hand. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” He grinned. “We’re taking some photos now. Would you please be in some of them?”
I swallowed the no that my mouth wanted to form and tossed back the rest of my drink. “Sure.”
“Great. Follow me.” He led the way back to the front of the room, where the wedding party and Lori’s family had gathered in front of the massive windows. The arch had been removed, and the photographer’s assistant was lining everyone up. She noticed Mason and smiled.
“You found him?”
“Yes.” He gestured to me and said proudly, “This is my dad.”
I felt woozy and off balance, but I stood where the woman directed me to stand, between Mason and his groomsmen. My gut was tight, imagining myself in these wedding photos—I felt like I was ruining them somehow. I didn’t deserve this place of honor in his photos or in his life. But I stood there and tried to look at ease, if not happy. I hoped those damn lines between my brows weren’t showing.
Mason asked for me to be in a photo with him and Lori and her parents, and I did that too. Then I posed for one with just him. All the while, I could feel everyone’s inquisitive stares and hear their curious whispers. Anyone who’d been at the rehearsal dinner knew the story, so it was bound to be making the rounds by now.
I took a moment to mop my forehead with a handkerchief. Mason looked at me and said, “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just a little uncomfortable.” I tucked the white cotton square back into my pocket. “Photo sessions aren’t really my thing.”
“I understand. We’re done now. Thank you so much for this.” And he threw his arms around me, just like he had at the restaurant two days earlier. “It means so much to me. And somehow I feel like my mom is watching, and it means a lot to her too.”
That caught me off guard. “Huh?”
“After all, she sent you, didn’t she?” Mason released me and smiled. “I decided the letter was always meant to be found. She had a plan for us all along. And I’ll tell you another secret.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear another secret. “Okay.”
He leaned closer and whispered, “Lori is pregnant. You’re going to be a grandpa. Isn’t that great?”
My left eyelid twitched. Had he said grandpa? Fucking grandpa?
Lori approached and hooked her arm through Mason’s. “Ready for some champagne, Mr. Holt?”
“I am, Mrs. Holt. But none for you,” he added softly. They grinned at each other, and I continued feeling like I was having an out-of-body experience.
“Thanks for being here, Zach, and for the role you played.” Lori smiled at me. “I know this can’t be easy.”
“It’s fine. I’m fine.” Stiffly, I leaned forward and kissed her cheek. Forced some nice words. “Congratulations.”
Back at the bar, I ordered a double shot of whiskey and made a beeline for the room I’d been in before the ceremony began. I needed a moment alone to pull myself together.
What the fuck was happening to my life?
I was so agitated, I didn’t realize I’d chosen the wrong door off the back hallway until I’d shut it behind me and found myself in an office.
Millie was standing at the window, and she spun around fast. “Oh!”
“Sorry,” I said, backing out of the room. “My mistake.”
“Zach, wait! Is everything okay?”
I exhaled. “I don’t know. This whole fucking weekend is insane. I feel like I’ve entered some kind of alternate reality.”
“I know. I feel it too.”
“I just had to get away for a minute—I didn’t realize this was your office.”
“I snuck away for a moment as well.” She saw my drink. “That looks good.”
“I can share.” I crossed to the window and offered her the glass. Our eyes locked as she lifted it to her lips and took a sip.
“Thanks,” she said, taking one more drink before handing it back to me.
She wore navy tonight, and although there was nothing overtly sexy about her outfit—the dress hit her at the knees, had a high neck and sleeves that came to her elbows—somehow it still hugged her curves in a way that made it hard for me to take my eyes off her. My mind started to wander into dangerous territory, imagining what she’d looked like last night as she straddled her vibrator, pretending it was me.
I started to get hard.
“I saw you taking photos with the family,” said Millie, breaking the silence. “That was nice.”
I swallowed more whiskey. “Could you tell how miserable I was?”
“No. You looked perfect. You look perfect.” Her cheeks grew pink as her eyes traveled over my clothing, face, hair.
“I should go,” I said, because I knew if we remained in here alone, things would happen we’d both regret.
“And I should get back to work.”
“Want the rest?” I held up what was left of my drink.
She hesitated, then shrugged. “Sure.” She took it from me and tipped it up, while I drank in her throat and neck and pale, pretty hands. I could smell her perfume.
When the whiskey was gone, she lowered the glass and stared into it. Then slowly, she raised her eyes to mine.
In half a second, our bodies and mouths slammed together, the glass shattering at our feet. Our tongues were hot and demanding, our arms clinging tight. I moved her away from the window and backed her up to the edge of her desk, dragging my lips down her throat and her dress up her thighs.
Her hands groped at my crotch, and she moaned when she found me already hard. I fumbled with my belt. She tugged off her underwear. In no time at all I was positioning my cock between her legs.
“Wait,” she said between loud, panting breaths. “Do you have a condom?”
“No. But I’ve had a vasectomy.”
“You’ve had a vasectomy?” Shock was evident in her voice.
“Yeah.” I spoke with my lips against her neck. “My ex-wife requested it.”
“You had a wife?”
“Briefly.” I picked up my head and looked her in the eye. “Do you want to talk about this now?”
She shook her head.
“Good.” I eased inside her, and we both groaned. Her legs wrapped around me, and she grabbed the back of my neck as I drove inside her hard and fast and deep. I fucked her with a passion bordering on fury, as if I was punishing her for my rapidly unraveling life, as if I was trying to prove I was still in control by ravaging her body.
Needless to say, it was over fast. I realized too late I wasn’t even sure she’d finished. Jesus, now I was that guy.
“I’m sorry, Millie.” I rested my forehead on hers, my heart still pounding.
“For what?” Her chest rose and fell quickly.
“The adolescent speed. Being so rough.”
“It’s fine.”
“Did you even . . .”
“This wasn’t about that,” she said quickly.
“This should always be about that.” I reached between us, placing my thumb on her clit. “Let me—”
“No.” She grabbed my wrist. “Really, Zach. It’s okay. Listen, there’s a roll of paper towels on the file cabinet in the corner. Could you maybe bring it to me? I don’t have any other clothes here, and—”
“Of course.” I carefully disengaged from her body as she tried to protect her clothing by sliding off the desk and keeping her dress at her hips. After I brought her the paper towel, I turned around to pull myself together and give her some privacy.
“There’s a mirror on the inside of that closet door,” she said.
“Thanks.” I went over to the closet, opened the door, and checked my reflection in the mirror. My suit looked okay, and my tie was still knotted, but my face was sweaty and flushed. Beneath my clothing, my back was hot and damp. I smoothed my hair where Millie’s fingers had tousled it.
She walked toward me, and I backed away from the mirror so she could use it.
I watched as she pulled out her ponytail and redid it, smoothed her dress over her curves, turned around and checked out her back by looking over her shoulder.
“You look perfect,” I told her.
She smiled and faced the mirror again. “My face is so pink. I look like I just got off the treadmill.”
I came up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist. Kissed her temple and met her eyes in the mirror. “You’re beautiful.”
She placed her arms on top of mine and tipped her head back against my chest. “Thank you.”
“There’s probably no chance we can skip the rest of this wedding, is there?”
“Nope.”
Exhaling, I dropped my arms. “I didn’t think so. Should I go out first?”
“Sure.” She fanned her face. “I need a minute anyway.”
“Okay.” Adjusting my cuffs, I walked to the door and grabbed the handle. Then I looked over at her. “Can we talk later?”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“Maybe not in person. On the phone?”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“Can we at least be trusted to text?”
“Honestly, Zach, I’m not sure. And we were supposed to delete each other’s numbers last night.”
“Did you do it?” I asked.
She hesitated, then shook her head.
“I didn’t either.”
Her cheeks grew even more pink. “We are not good people.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” I pulled the door open, listened for a moment, then glanced into the hall. All clear. I looked back at her. “I’m not going to stay too long, so why don’t you text me when you get home? I’d like to talk.”
“You’re not leaving because of me, are you?” She looked adorably concerned. “Mason is so happy you’re here, and I’d hate to—”
“It’s not because of you,” I said firmly.
She didn’t appear fully convinced, but she nodded. “Okay.”
I left the room and pulled the door shut behind me.
