This Changes Everything by Jennifer Ashley Page 0,5
more. “Not end of story. Did you fall in love? Meet someone? She’s not here, so either she’s not feeling well or doesn’t want to have anything to do with weddings. Or he, if that’s the case.”
Zach’s laughing at me the whole time but I note a flicker of pain in his eyes. “No he. Or she. I’m not in a relationship.”
I swirl my second piña. “See, this is the difference between men and women. If you were a woman, I’d already know every detail about why you aren’t with whoever it was. Who was she, and what happened?”
“You’re right. A guy friend would say, Women, what can you do?, smack me on the shoulder, and order me another drink.”
“You haven’t finished that one.” I point at the half-empty glass in his hand. “Spill the beans. I won’t post it on social media. Cross my heart.”
Zach’s smile dims. “Why do you want to know so bad?”
“I want to know everything about you, Zach McLaughlin.” The piña coladas are catching up to me, not to mention the Scotch and the champagne I had before the dance. I’m talking far more freely than I would otherwise. “Everything I missed by moving away from the old neighborhood.”
“I asked her to marry me.” Zach’s affability fades. “She laughed and said no way was she marrying anyone. Two months later, she runs off with my best friend—my ex-best friend—to Las Vegas where they got married by Elvis.”
He finishes, clamps his mouth shut, and gulps down his piña colada.
Chapter Three
Zach
Damn it, I don’t want to talk about it. Haven’t since it had happened two years ago. A woman and I guy I’d trusted with my life had ground rocks into my face and walked away.
I don’t want to talk about it to beautiful Abby Warren, gazing at me with sympathy in her big brown eyes.
She straightens up. Signals to the waiter. “Does he have any whisky over there? Good stuff?”
The waiter, a young kid probably just thrilled he gets to carry drinks around to drunk wedding partiers, says he’ll check and scuttles away.
“It was a long time ago,” I say. “I’m over it.”
“Don’t lie to me.” Abby leans in. “I was your first, remember?”
The glitter in her hair catches the light. It had sparkled and gleamed while we danced, she laughing at me with her coral-lipsticked mouth. The lipstick is a little smeared now, left on the glasses she’s drunk from, but it doesn’t detract from her at all. Her natural lip color shows through, red and sexy.
“You still remember that awful kiss,” I say, my face warm.
“You remember it too,” she accuses me. “Or you wouldn’t know it was awful.”
“I didn’t know what I was doing.” The young waiter brings over two glasses of amber liquid, neat. I reach into my pocket and toss a twenty onto his tray. “That’s for you.”
The kid stares at it. “Oh, I’m not supposed to accept tips tonight.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” I whisper.
He looks me fully in the eye for the first time then grins and says thanks. The twenty vanishes and the kid walks off with a spring in his step.
“Nice of you.” Abby is happy with me.
“Probably is getting a crap wage from the hotel for working his ass off.” I shrug, lift the whisky. “Here’s to … a great dance.”
Abby clicks her thick glass to mine. “Nah. Here’s to you dodging a bullet.”
I blink, glance around the tent. “What bullet? What are you talking about?”
“I mean your girlfriend. First of all, any woman who walked out on you must be an idiot. You want to be tied to an idiot? Second, she was obviously sizing up your best friend at the same time, and he was … what’s that called? … bird-dogging. Obviously neither of them gave a shit about you. And seriously, they were married by a cheesy Elvis impersonator and thought it romantic? You should be thanking your lucky stars you found out about them before they mired you in their drama and bogged down your entire life. It’s like you finding out you wanted to play football for fun, not make it into work.”
She speaks emphatically, close enough to me that I can breathe her perfume, watch the sparkles in her hair. She punctuates her words with her jabbing fingers. They aren’t sharp claws—she has real nails, neatly trimmed and touched with pink polish.
Abby finishes delivering her speech and lifts her whisky. “So, here’s to you. For being a bad-ass. Free of people who