told Melody gets the better of me. Or perhaps it’s because my lie is already eating at me.
Whatever it is, I’m here, sitting in the hotel bar of the girl I’ll never stop loving, drinking whiskey to fill the void in my chest where my heart once stood.
Hearing Melody tell Julian she loved him gutted me. It stung more than Julian’s confession that they’re getting married next month. Every report I had read on their upcoming nuptials said no date had been set, so you can imagine how hard the knock to my stomach was when I discovered it’s only twenty-seven days away.
I should have told Julian he’s too late. Melody is already married. We didn’t have a celebrant, and we ate our Ring Pop wedding rings at our reception, but the vows we spoke certainly seemed real. I guess everything feels real to eight-year-olds who have no clue how fucked up adulthood can be.
It could be worse. Melody could have been walked down the aisle by her mother like Wren did for us that day. She thought it was ‘cute’ that we wanted our commitment ceremony witnessed by an adult. She even signed our fake marriage certificate. It’s in our time capsule. The one Melody reburied so I wouldn’t find the love letter she hid inside.
I stop reminiscing on all the places she could have buried it when a familiar voice jingles in my ears. Madden is making his way to the bar. His staggered walk is being followed by three of his friends. One I recognize even with the years not being kind to him. It’s Connor Eckhart—the instigator of Melody’s and my very first fight. He’s looking a little haggard, kind of how I imagine Phoenix would have looked if he hadn’t gotten off the drugs.
After ordering a round of drinks like he’s one of the rock stars in the main area of the gala, Madden slings his eyes around the bar, seeking a vacant spot for him and his friends. I don’t sink into the shadows. Madden’s head is so far up his ass, he wouldn’t recognize his own brother if he were standing directly in front of him, so my station in the corner of the room won’t be noticed.
When my assumption is proven accurate, I throw down the last of my drink before requesting another. The bartender is generous with my refill. The fifty I threw in his tip jar when I arrived has served me well.
I switch from guzzling my drink to nursing it when the big gulp I take goes straight to my head. I’m not a heavy alcohol drinker, but even if I were, no amount of alcohol would have me missing the lady making her way to the counter. Even with her body covered in sweats and her wet hair hanging halfway down her back, I’d never forget the wild kinks her dirty blonde locks get when she lets it dry naturally, much less her gorgeous face.
It dawns on me that Melody isn’t here to drown her sorrows when the bartender hands her a leather wallet. It isn’t the feminine type and considering this is the only bar in this hotel, I’m quick to realize who it belongs to.
After issuing her thanks to the bartender with a halfhearted smile, Melody spins on her heels, preparing to exit. Unlike Madden, she spots my stalk in an instant. Her lips part so she can suck in a shallow breath as her red-rimmed eyes prepare for another bout of crying. Our argument hurt her as much as it did me. I’m confident of that.
A single tear plops onto her cheek when I sign, “I am sorry.”
She looks set to issue an apology of her own but loses the chance when Connor notices her standing at the bar. I’m shocked it took him so long to spot her. She’s not dressed to the nines like the other women in the overly populated establishment, but she doesn’t need a ritzy dress to be notable. She’s captivating just as she is.
I can’t see what Connor is signing to Melody, but her facial expression gives a clear indication she isn’t interested in anything he’s selling, and I won’t mention the lewd gestures Madden and his two friends are making behind Melody’s back, or it may tempt me to test the versatility of the weapon on my hip.
Just as I stand to my feet, over my pigheaded brother’s lack of respect, Connor returns to his seat. His friends