The line went silent, and I wondered if she was still there.
“Ali?” I tried.
“You haven’t even called me since you left, JP,” she finally said.
“Because you should be focused on Nationals,” I blurted out. “I didn’t want to disrupt you, unlike this asshole who’s completely throwing your focus out the fucking window.”
She sucked in a shocked breath, but I didn’t take it back. Someone needed to say the hard truth to her.
“Isn’t Nationals everything you’ve worked for since you were a kid?” I pushed.“I thought… After… I was going to…” I squeezed my eyes shut. After, I was going to finally confess my feelings to her. I was going to ask her to be with me. She’d finally be free from the rink, from her coach, from fucking Mark Rossi. She was going to be free in two short months. And now she wasn’t.
“Marrying Mark ishowI stay focused on skating. You just don’t get it, JP. This isn’t a big deal.”
My eyes practically bulged out. “Not a big deal? It’s fucking marriage, Ali.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” she said quietly. “I’m just trying to stay happy.”
Fuck. No. I tightened my fists. “You’re only twenty,” I said. “I thought…” I thought we had more time, I mentally finished.
“So what? My parents got married at twenty,” she snapped. “It’s my choice. I hope you can be a supportive friend and come to my fucking wedding, JP.”
“Ali—” I started, but the line went dead.
_________
The night before the wedding, we gathered at a local bar. Ali’s family wasn’t even there, but Mer said they’d be at the church tomorrow and at the small reception at a restaurant afterwards.
Ali looked beautiful in a simple white dress with her long hair down, reaching her mid-back. Her eyes danced with a smile while she listened to Mer tell a story at the bar. I wished I could smile. I wished I could feel anything other than blinding frustration.
How the fuck was I supposed to watch her get married tomorrow? It’d be one thing if I was losing her to a good guy, but Rossi was the complete opposite of good.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. It was supposed to be us. I thought we’d have more time. I clutched my eyes shut. This whole time, I was trying to avoid repeating my parent’s patterns and not date her young because I never wanted her to feel trapped. But instead, I was having to watch her get trapped by a fucking asshole. Because that’s what he was trying to do. He didn’t love her. He was just trying to claim her. He was trying to—
“I have a bad feeling, guys,” Colt said beside me, pulling me from my thoughts. He’d really bulked up this year, and he now sported a shorter, more professional-looking haircut. We were all playing in the AHL together, but there were murmurings that Colt would be called up soon.
“About Ali and Mark?” Piper asked beside me, flicking her sleek white-blonde hair off her shoulder.
“About everything.” He gave me a cold stare. “If Mer was getting married to a total douchebag instead of me, I’d probably…” Colt blew out a strangled breath. “I don’t even know what I’d do. I just know that I wouldn't let it happen. I’d do something. I’d fuck up the wedding.”
I knew his words were a dig at me, but I couldn’t take anyone else taking shots at me. Not when this impending wedding was already killing me.
“Are you serious?” Piper asked.
“Yes.” He said it to Piper, but he was staring daggers at me. “No fucking way would I let an asshole swoop in and marry my woman.”
I stared at him for a beat. It was tempting to flip the fucking table and deck him, but that’d just make everything worse for Ali. Colt had no fucking clue what he’d do because he’d never been in this position before. I shoved my chair back with a small, “Fuck off, Colt,” before stalking away.
I’m not proud to say it, but I got completely shit-faced at the hotel bar that night.
I barely have any recollection of that morning because I was in a drunk stupor. I know Kappy woke me up and forced me to get dressed in a suit. And I remember Ali walking down the aisle. I only remember because while she walked, she didn’t have her real smile. No. She had her show smile, the one she reserved for performances, for the ice, for when she was nervous. She wasn’t happy. She wasactinghappy.
Feeling my stomach churn for multiple reasons, I darted out of the church. I rounded the corner and threw up on the brick building.
“Classy,” someone said behind me.
I turned quickly and almost lost my balance. For a second, I thought it was Ali coming to talk to me. I thought Ali left the wedding. Left that asshole. But the last of my hope pretty much shriveled up and died when I realized it wasn’t Ali. Ali was wearing white today. Anastasia, her twin, who was walking toward me, was in a black dress, looking more like she was attending a funeral than a wedding.
Anastasia snorted. “Don’t worry, Romeo. This marriage isn’t going to last.”
