Chasing forever, p.3
Chasing Forever, page 3
When I let my vision stray back to him, I find Ben staring at me. He shakes his head again. “Listen…”
“I don’t want to hear it.” I put up my hand to stop him from giving whatever advice he’s decided to impart on me.
“I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“Why would I be hurt?” I stuff my hands into the pockets of my shorts and circle my neck to get rid of the kinks.
“Let’s not play that game. You’ve wanted Lottie for as long as I can remember, but she’s not the same person after your brother. She’s never going to give you an honest shot.”
His truth is an arrow to my heart, but I can’t blame him for trying to warn me.
He’s not wrong. I saw Lottie for all she was before Holden ever even noticed her. But he had the guts to act when I didn’t. He won by default—because I never fought for her.
“You don’t have to worry about me. I’m a grown man now.”
I refrain from telling him that drunk or not, Lottie cracked open a door last night—and I’m not letting her slam it shut without a fight.
I’ve tried the long game—coffees at her store, bad jokes, flirting, praying she’d look at me the way I looked at her. Not anymore. I’m done waiting. I’m done hoping. This time, I’m showing her I’m the man she’s been looking for—whether she knows it yet or not. Whether she likes it or not.
Ben saying she’s never going to be the same? Bullshit. And yeah, it makes me want to punch something. Him actually. But causing a scene won’t win Lottie’s heart either.
The circular doors spin again, and this time—it’s her. Romy’s beside her, but it’s Lottie I see. Only ever her.
Ben pats my shoulder. “You’re a lost cause.”
She’s in leggings and a sweatshirt, hair down but not really styled. No makeup. Still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I step forward to approach Lottie, but the hostess picks this moment to tell us all that our private room is ready. And of course everyone funnels into line, and I end up with Bennett at my side, once more asking me what I think was in the quiches that made them so great. I’m about to offer the chef my firstborn for the recipe just to get him to shut the hell up.
We file into the room, everyone too busy talking about last night or this morning to bother finding their chairs. There’s a lot of whispering and sly looks thrown between Lottie and me. Which isn’t surprising—the Noughton family doesn’t allow a lot of secrets to stay secrets.
“Danson, did you tell Jude about those mouthwatering quiches?” I ask, dodging Bennett and leaving Jude in his wake as I weave my way to Lottie’s side.
“I heard, and I don’t care,” Jude says, but I’m already locked on my way to her.
All the girls are huddled together and exhaustion lines Lottie’s face. I’m sure they’re all bombarding her with questions about last night and whether anything happened with us.
“Shit, is that Zander Shaw?” I lie, pointing out the window toward the terrace.
Romy bites instantly, dragging the girls toward the glass.
I’m not stupid. I know Lottie’s probably told Romy to stay close and keep me away.
“Romy!” Lottie says through clenched teeth, but Romy’s already at the window with all the other women, pulling their phones from their pockets as though they’re about to spot the popular country singer.
Watson for the win.
Lottie’s shoulders fall, and she eyes me as if she’d like nothing more than to see me put in a meat grinder—with her hand on the crank. “Cute.”
“We need to talk.” I’m not avoiding the issue. I’ve waited all day, and I’m not going to stay in the back seat any longer.
“Not here.” Her gaze skirts around the room at all the wandering eyes and eavesdropping ears.
“Then you’re riding with me to the airport.” I grab the back of a chair and pull it out for her. “Have a seat.”
She scoffs. “Um. No.”
“Would you rather me announce to everyone that we’re newlyweds?”
“I didn’t think blackmail was your style.” She crosses her arms.
She doesn’t know how much I love it when she’s stubborn and ferocious.
“All I want is to talk to you.”
She steps up close, her gaze darting around the room, measuring threats, calculating escape, as she always does. A repercussion of my brother screwing her over. “We will talk, but give me until we get to Willowbrook. Then I’ll meet you wherever you want, and we can make our plans for the annulment.”
A hot flick of disappointment slashes through me. She’s already plotting my exit.
“What if I don’t want an annulment?”
She straightens and glares at me. Slowly, flames rise in her gorgeous brown eyes. “You can’t be serious.”
I shrug, and her eyes widen, turning into a blazing inferno. She’s been a fighter her whole life. Holden snuffed out that fire. I watched her bow her head to him—and it killed me every damn time.
“I think there’s a reason—”
Emmett and Briar walk into the room, and Emmett raises their joined hands in the air to everyone’s claps and cheering. “Let’s welcome another Noughton to the family.”
There goes any talk about us for now.
We all move to take a seat, everyone buzzing with new energy. Romy gives me a pissed-off look—probably about my bullshit Zander Shaw stunt—but I don’t care. Because Lottie’s right here. Close enough to touch.
Everyone sits as Emmett and Briar stand at the head of the table.
“So that makes how many Noughtons now?” Emmett points around the table. “Ten, right?”
He skips over Lottie, and she tenses next to me. I feel her shoulders locking tight, her breathing stalling.
He knows. I have no idea how. No one else will probably understand that Lottie’s now part of another family, my family, now that we’re married, but Lottie and I sure as hell do.
“Eleven, you skipped Lottie,” Romy says before snapping a bite off a celery stick from the Bloody Mary she no doubt grabbed after realizing her favorite country singer is not in the restaurant.
“Oh, did I forget you, Lottie?” Emmett asks, tilting his head and wearing that smug, knowing grin.
Lottie’s face grows red as Briar slides into her chair, leaving Emmett to stand by himself. Everyone’s questioning gaze turns to Lottie. The whole room tightens, leaning in without even meaning to.
Briar tugs on Emmett’s sleeve, pulling him down into the chair beside her, but that damn playful grin sits bold on his face. Add on Briar peeking at Lottie, and I know those two know something.
I slide my hand to Lottie’s forearm, even though I’m the one drowning. If this goes south right here, right now, I might lose any footing and any chance I have with her.
Whatever Emmett’s plan was doesn’t matter now because Lottie tosses her napkin on the empty plate, shoves her chair back, and stands. “Fine. You all want to know so bad because your lives are so goddamn boring? Well, Brooks and I got married last night. There. Are you all happy now?”
Her admission is reckless and messy.
And it’s so damn Lottie.
I love her all the more for it.
Chapter Five
Lottie
The gasps that ring out around the table give me a small feeling of accomplishment, like I just won the Nobel Peace Prize, because I’ve managed to shock my family. With so many of us, it’s nearly impossible to keep anything a secret. Emmett’s triumphant smirk and his sweet wife Briar’s empathetic expression tell me that both of them already knew. How, though, is beyond me.
“You were in the closet,” Bennett accuses, his jaw slack.
I don’t even want to think about the heartache I heard in my brother’s voice while I hid in the closet in Brooks’s room.
“Wait? What are we missing?” Sadie asks. Disappointment fills her voice that I didn’t tell her, my best friend, about drunk-marrying the sheriff in Vegas.
Heat floods my face as I look at Emmett, my younger cousin, silently blaming him for my late-night poor life choices. Him, of all people getting married and finding love—it made that small seed of doubt inside me bloom into something reckless last night. That fear that I might never find someone—or worse, that I’ll never be able to trust someone again. And somehow, the only thing I remember from early in the night is the simple way Brooks looked at me and made me believe, for a stupid second, that maybe I could. I can’t believe I put myself in this position. I feel like a complete idiot.
“Why don’t you answer?” I mutter to Emmett, since he seems to know everything, and I’m desperate to deflect.
Briar groans and glances at her new husband. Emmett’s about to answer, but Briar puts her hand on his to stop him and straightens in her chair.
“We went to pick up our pictures—did you all see that screen with the newly married couples on the wall?” Briar doesn’t wait for anyone to answer before she continues. “We saw the picture of you and Brooks walking out of the chapel, married, late last night.”
Her forehead crinkles, and her lips press down. Sympathy. The one emotion I loathe more than pity when it’s aimed directly at me.
“What are the chances?” Brooks mumbles.
“Pretty high since you went to the same chapel as us.” Emmett’s eyebrows lift.
He’s not wrong, but choosing the same chapel wasn’t even close to the dumbest thing we did last night.
“There you have it.” I clap my hands together. “Now, I need to ask you all not to tell all our parents because Brooks and I would like to keep this between us until we can get it annulled.”
Silence descends across the room.
Which is how I know I’m truly screwed.
Silence in my family is more unnatural than a snowstorm in July. As I scan their faces, they’re all giving that same look—and it’s pointed more at Brooks than at me. The one that says, Sorry, man.
Even Sadie’s lips are tipped down as she concentrates on her lap.
My shoulders drop. “Oh my god, what?”
Sometimes I hate that I can’t just allow them all to have their feelings and sit back down, eating the lunch Emmett and Briar have planned for us. Maybe I was never that way, but I feel as if I had a lot more patience for what people thought about me or the things I did before the asshole came into my life.
No one answers me.
“I’m going to go to the bathroom. Come with me, Lottie?” Sadie slides her chair out, placing her napkin on her seat.
And this is how you know my family is truly dumbstruck. Not one of them makes a joke like, Does she have to hold up your dress? They know exactly what’s happening. Sadie, my calm, nurturing best friend, will guide me into the bathroom while they sit here and tell Brooks how sorry they are that he drunk-married the one person in the family who’s emotionally broken, while Sadie tells me that it’s okay I made a mistake, and she’ll help me survive the aftermath.
With a growl of frustration, I turn to follow her, but Brooks’s finger runs along the back part of my forearm, sending a jolt of goose bumps slithering up my skin.
What the hell was that?
I follow Sadie toward the bathroom, hearing the hushed conversations starting before I’ve even left the room.
“I’m not answering anything,” Brooks says, and I stop dead in the doorway.
I circle back around to see him leaned back in his seat with his hands up in front of him.
“And respectfully, I know you’re all her family, but this is between her and me.”
As if he knows I’m still within earshot, his gaze lifts to mine, and my eyes sting with tears. All he does is give me a slight nod and a half smile.
Everyone knows Brooks Watson is a good guy. Hello, he’s the sheriff. I think sometimes I forget that just because he shares blood with the man who practically put me on a spit in the middle of town square, but he’s not anything like his brother.
Sadie’s hand grips mine, and she nudges me to follow her.
Shaking my head, I let her guide me toward the bathroom, and once we’re inside, she spins me around. “I’m sorry. I should have been there for you last night.”
“What?” I frown.
“It’s just that since Daisy, Jude and I don’t get a lot of alone time, but I was a shitty best friend to leave you knowing you were struggling with Emmett getting married.”
I shake my head as if the thoughts will connect to help me understand what she’s saying.
Sadie implores me with her eyes wide. “Last night. You were upset, and I should’ve stayed with you instead of going out with Jude.”
“Oh god, Sadie. No. This isn’t your fault. I’m a grown woman. And—”
“But I wouldn’t have let you go to the chapel with him.” She leans her shoulder against the tile wall.
“I’m not sure anyone knew where we were going. I don’t even remember what happened. But it’s fine. I didn’t want anyone to know, but now that they do, I just need to keep it away from all the parents so I can get it annulled and forget it ever happened.”
Her lips purse, and she looks away from me.
I sigh. “What?”
“Nothing.”
This is so Sadie. If I could have an ounce of the patience she has, I probably wouldn’t be in this situation. I’m a go-with-my-gut-and-act-fast person, where she’s more about weighing the pros and cons with lists and graphs.
“Spit it out.” I cross my arms.
“It’s just… Brooks is sweet on you.”
I roll my eyes and step around her to the sink and mirrors. “He feels responsible for me. There’s a difference.”
Sadie stands next to me, staring at me through the mirror. “What on earth are you talking about?”
I pull my hair up into a messy bun because the dry heat in Vegas feels as if it’s made my hair brittle, and I don’t have the patience to deal with it hungover. “Holden is his brother. Brooks clearly is trying to find a way into this family tree, and he can’t have me being upset with him because his brother left me at the altar. Brooks is a good guy, and he’s just trying to fix what his brother broke.”
“Brooks’s wanting to join the family is just a joke, Lottie. It’s a way for the guys to bust his balls because of how much time he spent there growing up.”
I shrug. “Maybe not.”
Sadie’s forehead creases, and she tilts her head as if she’s trying to solve some impossible math equation.
“What don’t you understand?”
“I say he’s sweet on you—”
“Quit saying sweet on you. What are you, eighty?” I scowl at her through the mirror.
She shakes her head. “Yeah, I blame it on Marge working for me, but I swear she’s a chicken whisperer. She just crouches down, whispers a few encouraging words, and they scatter.”
Sadie started a pasture-raised chicken farm last year, and Marge is her newest employee—and apparently, a chicken whisperer to boot.
Sadie waves. “Anyway, you understand where I’m going with this.”
“That you want to clone Marge?”
She laughs and shakes her head at my usual deflection. “No, Lottie. You know what I’m saying and how you’re not making sense. Brooks isn’t sweet on you just because his brother is a jackass and treated you like shit. He’s sweet on you because he’s always been sweet on you.”
“Did you purposely use that three times?”
She smiles proudly. “I did.”
“I thought so.”
“Lottie.” Her tone is filled with exhaustion.
“Sadie.”
She doesn’t take my bait of mimicking her like I knew she wouldn’t, just stares at me with that look that says she’ll outwait me all day. I glare back, but it’s a fruitless venture because I’m too impatient. Hello, this is the woman who waited years to win her best friend’s heart. The patience of a preschool teacher, I tell you.
I throw my hands up and turn toward her, eyeing the door to make sure no one comes in. “Do I see the way he looks at me? Of course I do, Sadie, I’m not blind.”
“And the protectiveness?”
I blow out an annoyed breath. “It doesn’t matter. He’s Holden’s brother. That’s never going to change. I can’t even fathom word getting around Willowbrook that I married Brooks.”
Sadie’s face morphs into an exact replica of that day when she had to tell me they couldn’t find Holden anywhere. “Yeah, but—”
“Wait. Are you suggesting I stay married to him?” My mouth drops open.
The hormones must be making Sadie delusional.
“I’m just saying you might have rushed into it, but—”
“I drunk-married him.”
She hems and haws, her head moving left and right. “Maybe consider giving it some time before you sever the tie.”
“Sadie!”
She throws up her hands in that hear me out gesture. I don’t want to hear her out. I want to leave this bathroom, go to the airport, hop on a plane, and hide under my comforter at home until I can forget this whole disaster.
“I want you to be happy.”
“I am happy.” I plaster on a fake smile so wide it hurts.
She sighs, clearly not buying it.
Taking her hand, I squeeze it. “I am. I promise. I’m really happy for you and Jude and your family, and I’m going to be a kickass aunt/cousin to Daisy and all the other little ones you have. But me? I’m good.”
“I wish you’d try again.”
“I’m content with my life.”
What I don’t tell her is that I can’t. I can’t hand over my heart to someone again—not when I’m terrified they’ll leave me gutted and bleeding out all over again.
“Now, come on, let’s just go back to the table. I want this over with. You know how I hate being talked about behind my back.”
Sadie hesitates, searching my face, but finally nods and squeezes my hand. I guide us toward the private room, pretending I don’t feel the weight of everything left unsaid.
She could have said more. I know she wanted to. But she didn’t—probably because she sees it too, the cracks I’m fighting like hell to keep from splitting wide open.
