Don't Kiss the Bride

Fuckin’ ouch.

My defenses fly up. I can commit. I just never wanted to before I met her.

The happiness I felt earlier deflates like a leaky balloon. I almost got caught up in the fairytale myself. Maybe guys like Asher Valentine and his best friend are lucky enough to have love stories like that, but not me—an ex-junkie hood rat. I’ve been paving the road to loneliness for a long time, and it looks like it’s a dead end for me. The light at the end of the tunnel just got blown out.

I nod slowly and set my coffee mug back down a little too hard. “Right. And the first person I commit to can’t be an eighteen-year-old girl who’s never even been in a relationship. It’d be a total waste of my time,” I add, just to be a dick and deliver the blow back at her.

I immediately regret it.

Blinking, she sucks her quivering lower lip into her mouth, and her top teeth edge into the pink flesh. The act makes me want to reach across the counter and drag her to me so I can suck that same lip into my own mouth and make her mine right here in the middle of the kitchen.

I run my hand across the stubble on my face. How do I manage to fuck shit up? I came home planning to follow the King of Rock’s advice to love the girl. So, what do I do? Insult the girl.

Good move, Lucky.

Suddenly her eyes focus on my hand like laser beams. “You’re wearing your wedding band.”

“Yeah…” I glance at the ring on my hand that, until this moment, I forgot I was still wearing. “I stuck it on yesterday before I went out.” Skylar’s gaze hangs on to mine, her eyes doing that shimmery sparkle that always hypnotizes me. “I only put it on so women wouldn’t hit on me while I was out.”

Lies. Not even a good one.

“Oh.” She straightens her spine and blinks away the emotion that was swimming in her eyes seconds ago. “Your turn. What did you want to talk about?”

I could tell her about my epiphany. Admit to her that I’ve been falling in love with her since the day I saw her cruising in her ’vette, blasting Meatloaf. I could tell her I was a goner the second she blew that bubblegum bubble at me. I just didn’t know that’s what falling in love felt like. I could tell her she’s the only girl who’s ever made me happy, who’s ever given me what I needed. I could tell her she’s the only one who’s ever been there for me and made me think, even for a minute, that maybe love isn’t just a four-letter word.

I could tell her I don’t give a shit about the age difference or what people think.

I could throw it all out there and tell her—for the first time in my life—I want to stay.

With her.

Indefinitely.

Try for forever together.

But, let’s be real. She’s clearly made up her mind. And she hit the nail on the head—I don’t know anything about taking care of hearts. Skylar deserves so much more than I can give her.

I down the rest of my coffee in one big gulp. “Nothin’. I just wanted to tell you I was sorry about how everything went down.”

She swallows hard, obviously choking on disappointment.

“I’m going to do what I can to get my life together. So we can move on.” She lifts her gaze to meet mine, and I hate the sadness that’s sucked all the brightness from her eyes. “I really do appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Lucky. More than I can ever say. Everything you’ve done for me… It’s changed my life.”

That was the plan—for her to eventually leave. But hearing her say it hurts like a bitch.

“I’m sorry for all the shit that’s happened, Skylar. All I wanted to do was help you out, not fuck you up even more. No good deed goes unpunished, huh?”

A faint, sad smile touches her lips. “Yeah, I guess not.”

Coughing into my hand, I rise to my feet, ready to end this demolition of hopes and dreams. “I meant what I said the other day—this is your home. I don’t want you to leave. I can keep my distance. But nothing’s going to change our friendship. That’s something I can commit to.”

She tilts her head with a sad, yet wistful look that just about crushes me. “You’re a great friend. I don’t ever want to lose that.”

I go up to my room and yank the wedding band off, shoving it in my dresser drawer under the pile of lottery tickets I squirreled away to give her every day.

I’m never going to put it on again.

I never should’ve let myself think otherwise—a fake marriage is all I’m ever going to be good enough for.