Page 107 of How to Ruin Your Ex's Wedding
The weather is perfect, I’m guessing the temperature is somewhere in the mid-seventies. A slight breeze whispers through the tree leaves, the rustling sound acting as a perfect complement to the gentle waves lapping at the shore.
Gregor strolls onto the deck.
“Hey,” I say. “Pull up a chair. I’ve got a cigar here for you, we can work our way through this bottle of scotch together.”
“That upset, huh?” he asks.
“You know, I think I just got the wind knocked out of my sails, so to speak. I got carried away by the big rush of momentum and emotion and excitement. And Tabby wanted to slow it down. And if I want her, then I have to be okay with that.”
He raises his glass toward me in acknowledgment.
“It doesn’t mean I’m not going to drown my sorrows in scotch and cigars tonight though,” I add.
Gregor sits back in the extra-large deck chair that we special ordered just for him and puffs a few times on his stick. “Okay,” he says. “So, you see her again, what do you say?”
I think on it for a moment. “Well, first I apologize for trying to rush things and ‘highjack her wedding’ as she called it. Then I tell her that I’m willing to wait, as long as it takes. That I want us to avoid making the same mistakes, and I just want to work toward a future with her.”
“That’s real sweet, man.” He smiles big at me.
“Aw, thanks, G.” I smile back, feeling good for the first time since I left Tabby at the Cascadian House.
He pats at his jacket pocket, then his pants pocket. “Uh-oh,” he says.
“What?”
“I think I left my cell phone in your guest room with my other stuff. I’m supposed to text Maisey.”
“Have you guys even been on a real date yet?”
“Nope.”
“And she’s got you this wrapped around her finger?”
“I’m just being polite,” he says defensively. “But, yes, she does have me this wrapped around her finger.” He grins sheepishly.
I puff on my cigar. “Are you going to go get it?” I ask, blowing smoke into the air, literally.
“Would you get it for me?”
“Me? Why? You’re a grown ass man who, last I checked, is capable of maneuvering his body into spaces to collect things.”
“Yeah, I tweaked my knee at the gym earlier this week, PT wants me to avoid stairs when possible.”
“Oh shit, man, I didn’t know.” I stand. “Sorry. You going to be okay for the start of the season?”
“Oh yeah.” He waves his hand dismissively. “I just have to rest it for a while.”
“I’ll get it for you, G. No sweat, be right back.”
I head into the house and down the stairs to the guest room with the king bed, as that’s the one Gregor usually stays in. I open the door, and head for the nightstand, where I’m assuming his phone will be. Empty. I check the other nightstand, but it too is empty. In fact, I don’t see any of his things in here. I turn to go check the other guest room and watch in shock as Tabatha comes in and shuts the door behind her.
“Tabs? What are you doing here?” I swallow thickly, my throat suddenly dry as fuck. She looks amazing. She’s still in her wedding dress, but her shoes are off and in her hand. Her hair still mostly up, her makeup intact, but her eyes are red-rimmed.
“I was hoping we could talk for a minute.”
“Okay. Of course. Sure. Have a seat.” I gesture to the foot of the bed next to where I sit down. Her gown rustles slightly as she moves toward me and settles in, sitting close enough that our thighs are touching.
“I’m sorry,” she starts.
