Before they can notice me, I storm back to my car, crumpling the black box in my hands. My eyes swell with tears as I step on my foot wrong, twisting it, my red shoe falling off.
"Fuck this," I mumble under my breath. As I limp to my car, leaving the shoe behind, I realize this is the perfect time to call things off. The divorce just went through, and our summer is done.
I still have Hitched. I still have Tate and Vi and everything I'm building in my life. I don't need Sebastian.
As I pull my note out of the box and stuff the box into Sebastian's mailbox, my phone rings.
It must be the client who just booked. I answer with a voice I hope doesn't betray my emotion.
"Hello, is this Ms. Michaels?"
"Yes."
"This is David Melton's assistant. I'm calling as a courtesy to let you know that while we appreciate your creative ideas for the bachelor party, we've decided to go with a different company for that evening. Mr. Melton thanks you again for your enthusiasm and wishes you the best."
I hang up, my heart shriveling into something dark and sad as I realize that my love life and my plans for my business have both fallen apart on the very same night.
Fuck. This. Shit.
Chapter 32
Moving on
"What happened?" asks Tate, looking me over like I caught some ugly disease.
I know I look like shit. My mascara's running, and my face must be red. "It's over," I say as I rush to the bathroom to get cleaned up.
Tate follows me, anger in his voice. "What'd he do, sis?"
"Nothing. The divorce went through. Now, we can both get back to normal—"
"Don't give me that shit, Kacie. What the fuck happened?"
I run my hands under cool water, then splash it on my face. The memory of Sebastian and Celene still burns. "I realized I can't be in a serious relationship and run Hitched, okay?" And Sebastian needs someone else. Then I remember with a sinking heart that's not all that happened tonight, and the rest involves Tate and his life too. "Speaking of Hitched, you were right. The basket was a lame idea, and it didn't work. We lost the Melton party. They picked someone else. Maybe if I hadn't been with Sebastian, hadn't been distracted, I wouldn't have fucked it up. I would have figured out a way to get that client and make our careers."
"First, don't worry about Hitched. The business is fine. We don't need a big client to do well. Second, I'm calling Vi," says Tate. "You need her."
Before I can object, he disappears down the hallway. I jump into the shower. Thoughts of Sebastian, his fingers on my skin, his lips on my mouth, fill my mind, but I push them away. Fuck that man. I have to get over him if I'm ever to enjoy life again. Seeking distraction, I get out of the shower, throw on a soft large shirt, and dig into a bowl of chocolate chip ice cream. Tate turns on The Princess Bride, one of those movies we could watch forever, and we sit together on the couch, my head resting on his shoulder. A few minutes later, Vi arrives, holding a white bag.
"I've brought the break up cure," she says, pulling out a giant bottle of vodka.
"I think we might need more than that," says Tate.
Vi nods knowingly and pulls out a second bottle.
"Are you trying to kill me?" I ask.
"Girl, you're killing yourself," says Vi, pouring us shots, and by shots I mean full fucking cups. She hands me one. "Dr. Sexy isn't worth it."
You're wrong, says a part of me. The part that still thinks Sebastian is the greatest man in the world, and I'm stupid for leaving him. But I can't be with someone who's so ready to marry me, or so ready to be with someone else. I don't even know which it is, but I'm not ready to commit, and he deserves someone who is.
"Keep the drinks coming," I tell Vi.
She smirks and cuddles up next to me. By the end of the film, when the grandfather says, "As you wish," we're all teary eyed and drunk as fuck. "You're not supposed to be sad," I say, my words slurring. "You're never sad."
Vi is crying so hard she gasps. "I broke up with Chad."
Tate and I speak in unison. "What?"
"I left him," she says in between sobs. "Oh shit. I'm sorry. I'm supposed to be cheering you up."
"Don't apologize. And don't fucking lose it on me." I grab her drink and refill it, channeling Vi when I say, "Mr. Musician isn't worth it."
She chuckles, wiping her eyes and taking the drink.
Tate sighs. "Are there no fucking gentlemen left?"
"That's the problem," says Vi. "He was too gentle."
Yeah. That could be a problem. But not with Sebastian—
I stop thinking and slap myself. Hard. On the face.
"What the fuck are you doing?" asks Tate.
"I'm cutting out the bullshit. We need to go out. Now. And do something crazy." I grab their arms and pull them off the couch. "Let's go to a club." I make it two steps.
And collapse onto my comfy chair. "Fuck."
"Maybe tomorrow, sis." Tate and Vi fall back on the couch, Tate restarts The Princess Bride, and we pass out in a few minutes.
***
A knock on the door wakes me. My mouth tastes like dirt, and my head is pounding, but I force myself to stand up. Vi and Tate are still asleep on the couch, despite the loud banging. Lucky bastards. I open the door.