Page 26 of Wedding Season
He wished he had friends like that.
Maybe he could find them in Magnolia if he allowed himself to open up to people. Trusting didn’t come easy to Alex. Not anymore. “The guy’s name is Arthur?”
“Who wants to know?” a voice called from the guest room.
Alex tried to ignore the scent of lavender that tickled his senses as he stepped past Mariella. It was a strange juxtaposition the way she seemed so tough but smelled so sweet and soft.
“My name is Alex Ralsten,” he said to the closed door. “I have an idea what you’re feeling right now.”
“Really?” There was a sharp rap on the wall next to the door. “You know what it’s like to want the ground to swallow you whole?”
“Yeah, I do.” Embarrassment pricked against the back of Alex’s neck. He could feel the weight of Emma, Angi and mostly Mariella’s gazes as they watched him stare at the door.
He didn’t want this. He didn’t want the reminder of his past. He didn’t want to rip open that old wound, the one that he thought had healed. He wasn’t the man he’d been before. He’d left that person behind. This wasn’t his business or responsibility, but he couldn’t walk away. Not when he heard the thread of humiliation in the groom’s tone. Alex recognized the sound like it was coming from his own soul.
He turned to the women. He wasn’t going to do this with an audience. “Do you mind giving Arthur and me some privacy?”
“Of course,” Emma answered for all three of them. She flashed a grateful smile. “If there’s anything you need...or if there’s anything you need, Arthur, just let us know.” Silence greeted her offer.
“He’ll be fine,” Alex assured her. He had no business making that statement but had to believe it was true.
Emma and Angi started down the hall, but Mariella continued to stare at him. He met her gaze, surprised because he would have expected to find pity. Instead he saw a level of understanding that shook him to his core.
“Let’s go,” Emma called to her friend. “Mariella, come on.”
With a subtle nod at Alex, she turned—almost reluctantly—and followed her friends down the hall.
“It’s just you and me, buddy,” Alex said to the door as he took a seat in front of it. He hoped he could live up to the expectations of Mariella and her friends. More than that, he hoped he could help Arthur deal with his circumstances better than Alex had.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ALEXMADEITback to his house close to midnight.
Cam had offered to drive him, but Alex chose to walk. He needed a few minutes of quiet to settle himself enough so he might be able to get some sleep.
It had taken nearly an hour of talking to the closed door before Arthur opened it. The poor guy had looked like absolute hell. His face was ashen but his eyes were puffy and red-rimmed from obvious crying. In his position a few years removed from his own heartbreak, Alex couldn’t imagine that the woman who’d run off with Arthur’s supposed best friend was worth all the tears and upset, but the groom was nearly inconsolable.
According to Arthur, his bride had been his dream woman and, like a fool, he’d thought they’d found their perfect love story.
Alex could have told the man that perfect didn’t exist and love was something made up by people in Hollywood or card companies to sell boxes of chocolates and bouquets of flowers on Valentine’s Day.
He didn’t say either of those things, though. Despite his heartache, Arthur clearly still believed in love.
To the point that it sounded as if he would have welcomed his cheating fiancée’s return.
The guy was delusional. At least Alex could say that once he’d been made a fool of by love and had his heart ripped out, he knew enough to shut the door on any future need for attachment. He barely dated and was clear about keeping his heart out of the equation.
Maybe Arthur would get there, too. Or maybe he’d stay convinced that love was a possibility for him. More power to the guy, Alex supposed. It was none of his business. He was glad he’d been able to help by sharing his story without much of the lingering bitterness. He’d actually begun to question why he was still holding so hard to that anger.
He was so lost in thought that he didn’t see the unfamiliar car parked in front of his house until Mariella climbed out.
“Crisis averted,” he said, keeping his voice casual and purposely not noticing how ethereal her beauty appeared with nothing but the moon and the glow of a streetlight illuminating her features.
The houses around them were dark, and he imagined his neighbors tucked into their comfy beds with no awareness of Alex standing on the sidewalk trying to remind himself of all the reasons he wanted nothing to do with Mariella. His body refused to toe the line on that count.
“I heard.” She nodded. “I just talked to Emma, and she said you were a huge help.”
“What are you doing here, Mariella? Emma said you’d gone home a while ago.”
