I turned back to clap louder as the two grooms walked down the aisle hand in hand, telling myself to forget about all of the rest.
Get to the end of this weekend. Get paid. Help my sister.
That was all I needed to focus on right now.
Xavi
I wiped my sleeve over my face again, roughly, welcoming the scrape of the stiff suit jacket over my skin. I was being pathetic. Too emotional. Making it too obvious.
So what if my friends were getting married couple by couple and I couldn’t even get a real boyfriend?
Love was fucking overrated. If you loved someone, they could trample all over your heart and throw it on the ground. I had seen it happen when my parents divorced. Aiden and Cade, Olly and Keaton – they were happy now. But in five years or ten years? Would they still be happy then, or would they be asking me for tips on how to get back into the dating scene now they were single again?
If you kept your heart to yourself in the first place, you never had to heal.
If Rowe mentioned anything about me crying during the vows, I was going to fucking fire him on the spot. Fuck his one thousand dollars for staying the weekend. Maybe I could tell everyone we’d broken up and get some sympathy out of it.
“Alright, everyone,” a voice boomed out, and just about everyone in the room turned to look at Caleb Coleman. He was still standing at the front. “Let’s give the grooms an hour or two to get their photos taken. Cocktails are served in the bar, and we’ll go ahead and eat in the restaurant after they get back.”
General cheers at the mention of booze sounded around the room, and I couldn’t disagree. The ceremony was the boring bit. This was the fun part. Drinking, socializing, eating good food, seducing –
Oh, right. No seducing this time. But I could still have a lot of fun.
“I’m heading to the bathroom,” I said, clearing my throat to get rid of the frog in it and pushing past Rowe to get to the aisle. He swayed slightly on his feet and I immediately regretted being so careless. My hand shot out, grabbing his elbow to stabilize him, but he shook me off.
“I’m fine,” he said. “I need to go, too. I’ll follow you.”
I gritted my teeth as I turned away from him. I’d wanted a moment alone. Not someone to hold my hand to the bathroom.
Not that Rowe would want to hold my hand under any normal circumstances.
I pushed through the crowds of people milling about around the doors, making it out into the bar – but of course, I immediately realized the problem. All these guests had just come out of the same place, and we were all going to the same place, and no one had been able to get up for the last twenty minutes.
There was a line for the restrooms.
I sighed and scratched the back of my head. “I’m going back to the room so I don’t have to wait,” I said over my shoulder. “I’ll see you back here.”
I knew Rowe had heard me. He was right behind me. He must have.
And yet as I made my way to the elevator I heard his cane tap-tapping across the marble floor behind me still, instead of staying back with the others.
I didn’t look at him for the journey up in the elevator, and he didn’t say a word. He just stood there calm and patient and silent and annoying. “You didn’t have to come with me,” I finally snapped.
“I know,” Rowe said. “But I don’t want to wait in line, either.”
I sighed in frustration as the elevator doors opened, allowing me to rush out ahead of him. I walked as fast as I could back to the room, knowing he couldn’t keep up.
The satisfaction I felt at reaching the room before him was tempered by the guilt at leaving him so far behind, but fuck it. Fuck him. He wasn’t anyone to me. He was my colleague. My employee, if you looked at it that way. He was used to mopping up after me. So, let him mop.
I locked myself in our private bathroom and leaned against the sink, leaning forward until my forehead hit the cool glass of the mirror. I closed my eyes.
The tears I had been fighting back rolled down my face, silent and smooth. Good. I didn’t want to sob loudly and let him hear. I didn’t want ugly red blotches on my skin, either. This was better.
I let the cool surface of the mirror soothe the ache in my forehead until the tears stopped. It was only a couple of minutes at most. I reached over to flush the toilet to keep my cover story up, then ran the tap and splashed cold water on my face. The soft towels provided by the hotel were much nicer for my skin than my sleeve.
I stared at my own reflection. Hollow-eyed and wan. Pathetic. Loser. Fuck-up Xavi Mendez.You deserve this.
I cleared my throat, smoothed down my tie, and opened the door.
