screw around, and even my best friend didn’t trust my intentions. Damn. I’d be insulted if I wasn’t trying to apologize to Mandy so we could pick up where we left off.
But she hadn’t answered my calls or replied to my texts all week. It meant that I had to get crafty. Meet up with her in a place she wouldn’t expect me.
I never wanted a woman as badly as I wanted Mandy. I’d be damned if I pretended to be a prince, and I wasn’t the type of man who’d reaffirm her faith in marriage and relationships. But I could at least remind her she was twenty-three and had an entire life ahead of her before she turned jaded. Why waste the fun years worrying?
And so I did something I wasn’t proud of. Something I never thought I’d offer.
I took on more wedding responsibilities.
Bryce shoved a notebook over my bar and gave me Lindsey’s criteria for what she expected from her musicians.
“Dude, I can’t thank you enough. I need a break.” Bryce looked like he hadn’t slept, and I doubted it was any pre-wedding sex keeping him up. “Don’t get married, Nate.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
“This magical day?” He sipped the orange juice before gesturing for something stronger. “It feels like we’re paying fifty grand for some appetizers and a day of stress.”
“Then comes the wedding night.”
“Yeah...” His voice trailed off. “She wants to try for kids right away.”
“What?”
“She said it would bring us closer together.”
“Closer than a legally binding contract?” I snorted. “Christ, you’ll share a tax return. How much closer can you get?”
“I know, man. I’m just trying to stay out of swinging range.”
“Good call.”
“Lindsey won’t be at the audition. She said she wants to be surprised when she walks down the aisle. So try to find a band that would make her weep but not actually sob.”
“O-kay.”
Bryce eyed the beers on tap. He was welcomed to as much as he needed to make it until the wedding. He shook his head.
“Remember to write what you feel when you hear the music. Lindsey would like a short essay. Nothing crazy.”
Yeah. Because an essay wasn’t insane.
Bryce handed me the rest of the homework Lindsey required. I should have said something, should have warned him right then and there.
Getting married to his girl shouldn’t have come with an alcohol habit and a thousand-yard stare. He should have been happy. Excited to see his woman. Thrilled to touch her.
Willing to wedding plan just to make sure he hadn’t fucked everything up.
I didn’t even recognize myself. This was the last goddamned time I let myself get wound around a woman. Mandy was special, but I had no idea she was subject-myself-to-wedding-bands special. Now I couldn’t get her scent, her taste, or her beautiful smile out of my head.
One more night with her would satisfy my urges. It had to.
Maybe a morning goodbye quickie too. She’d look gorgeous basking in the golden early morning light. Then we’d have breakfast in bed, the perfect way to regain strength for a mid-afternoon fuck. Hell, while she was already there, it was easy enough to keep her with me for another night…
That was a dangerous fantasy. Even more dangerous because I already imagined how the morning sun would strike her naked body, wrapped only in a silken sheet. Mandy was all about contrasts. White sheets, dark skin, passionate lover, sweet friend.
Good girl at home, bad girl for me.
I would seduce Mandy Prescott again, and I’d introduce her to more pleasure than she knew existed. We’d use each other for stress relief until the wedding, no regrets.
I had to convince her it was a good idea.
Easier said than done.
Lindsey reserved the fellowship hall at my dad’s church for the auditions. I hadn’t been there since Easter, and that wasn’t by choice. Mom had called, flustered and sobbing because she lost the pink Easter hat Dad demanded she wear. Had I not been there to hold her hand, Dad would have turned the sermon from the joyful resurrection to something fire, brimstone, and focused on the role of the family—father as head of the church with the rest of us mere mortals subservient to him.
I didn’t bother visiting him. His office door was always open, but only to his parishioners. God forbid his own family had problems that required counseling. That would have meant we were imperfect and reflected badly on him.
I jogged the steps down to the fellowship hall, passing a man tuning his oboe in the