Page 2 of Without You

Hannah stands from her chair, her veil trailing down her back and over her shoulders. I always knew she’d make a beautiful bride and I wasn’t wrong. I’m man enough to admit that. However, it doesn’t deter me from my plan.

My brilliant fucking plan.

Hannah’s husband reaches up and grabs her hand, shaking his head. She looks from him to me before she sits back down.

Damn, I wish I had had one more beer. Some extra liquid courage never hurt anyone. Well, that’s not exactly a true statement.

Johnny, Chad, and I take a step forward. Somewhere in the crowded reception hall I hear a gasp then a glass must tip over because commotion is happening in the corner when a woman jumps from her chair and people start dabbing up liquid with their napkins.

Four more steps, around a table of late twenty-somethings who seem to be relishing in whatever is about to go down. Must be his friends because I don’t recognize them as any of Hannah’s, but they do look entertained. In fact, a few of them are snickering and settling into their chairs like they’re ready for a show.

I make brief eye contact with one of Hannah’s bridesmaid, Katie, who has her lips pressed together and is clearly trying to stop herself from laughing. It’s definitely not working, though. She’s seconds away from losing it if the shake in her shoulders is anything to go by.

Interesting.

Maybe Katie is Team Brody after all.

I just assumed that after our breakup, all her friends would be on her side. Now, though, I’m not so sure.

To test my theory, I shoot her a wink which makes her eyes widen and a little giggle to escape that she quickly covers up with her hand covering her mouth. Or tries to, anyway. Oh, yeah. She’s on my side. All the more reason to go through with my plan. I always liked her the best of all of Hannah’s friends. She’s funny and confident in herself. We always got along really well, and I honestly always wondered how Katie and Hannah had remained friends for so long. They have very little in common and didn’t meet until Katie moved here her junior year. Hannah and I weren’t dating in high school but they became friends quickly.

I make my way through the rest of the tables and plant my feet in front of the head table. I watch as Hannah stares at me with curiosity, taking a sip of champagne and setting her glass back down pretending to be cool and collected, but I know her. She’s anything but. In fact, she’s probably shaking with nerves right now.

Behind me, Johnny says, “’Sup, Hannah?”

I can picture him giving her a single chin nod to drive home his point of not giving a shit whether this is appropriate or not. Chad clears his throat and says simply, “Hannah.”

“Boys.”

Next to her, her pussy of a now-husband finally speaks up. “What are y’all doing here, Brody?”

Really? That’s all he has to ask? Nothing like ‘Get the fuck out of here.’? If it were me sitting there, not with Hannah, of course, because I could give a shit less about that past, but if it were someone else, someone like… my eyes trail to my left and I make contact with her. I shake my head to clear that particular thought from my mind.

Not the time, Brody.

Not.

The.

Time.

Anyway, if it were me getting married and some punk ex-boyfriend showed up obviously drunk off his ass with his friends in tow at our wedding? I’d usher his ass out, none too gently, I might add.

I turn around and look to Johnny who crosses his arms then stumbles a bit because we’re fucking trashed but quickly recovers and rights himself, nodding to let me know he’s good. I do my best not to laugh at him, because it’s a miracle I’m standing on two feet and not slurring.

Then I catch the eyes of Hannah’s parents. They always loved me; were heartbroken when we broke up, actually. Her daddy came to my house and begged me to give her another chance. But, she had made it clear I wasn’t good enough and there was no way I was letting her sink her claws back into me. Life is way too short to spend it with someone who thinks my tax bracket means more about me than who I am as a person. I’m a working-class man and proud of it. Blue-collar man to my very core and wouldn’t have it any other way. Being a mechanic is honorable work and anyone who thinks I’m beneath them simply because I don’t spend my time sitting at a desk or behind a computer screen can fuck right off.

Giving her parents a little wave, they return the gesture with a smile. I’m a little surprised that they aren’t going to stop me from being here. It’s their daughter’s wedding day, after all. However, maybe they just really don’t like her husband, Cameron. He’s the exact opposite of me and one of those who thinks someone like me is beneath him because I’m a grease monkey who has calloused, dirty hands. Hannah’s daddy may have spent his working life in an office doing something with investments for people, but he never once looked at me as though I wasn’t on the same level as him. He always seemed genuinely interested in my career and appreciated the work I do. In fact, he would often ask me if he could help or if I could teach him things like how to change the oil in his vehicles.

I turn back around and face the happy couple, spreading my arms out beside me, grinning widely.

“My invitation got lost in the mail. Thought I’d congratulate y’all.”

Someone coughs a laugh and murmurs happen all around us. Johnny and Chad chuckle.

“Congratulate us?” Hannah asks, skeptically. As she should. I didn’t exactly handle the news that she slept with her co-worker all that well. Cameron is a douchebag with a capital D and I always hated him. Hannah knew it, too. When she slept with him, it was worse than just cheating. It was stabbing me in the back over and over again. A thousand lashes. If she wanted me to end it, fucking Cameron was definitely the way to make me walk away.

“Right.”

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