Chapter 6

Hugh

Sounds too good to be true. What's it called?

Oscar

The Starburst Illuminator. I'm telling you, this kid is ten tons of initiative in a three pound box.

Hugh

Chuckie sounds like someone else I know.

Oscar

You'd better not be talking about Louis, because I don't want to hear another word about how big his INITIATIVE is.

Ilet out a soft laugh, trying not to disturb Abby as she dozed beside me on my sofa while Dex and Rafa cleaned up the kitchen after I'd made dinner for everyone. It had been over four months since Abby's accident, and she'd fully recovered from her injuries long ago, but she'd taken on a second job after school and on weekends to help make a little extra money to put toward her wedding. This meant that when she wasn't working, she was usually exhausted.

"It'll all be worth it when I get my dream wedding," she told me at least twice a week, sounding a bit more manic each time. "I read on Wedding Wonderland that I really need a lighting designer if I'm going to make the most of the luxury tablescapes, and none of that's cheap. But I'm only getting married once, so it's got to be perfect, you know?"

I couldn't really argue with her because I did know. Like me, Abby wanted the hearts-and-flowers fairy tale our parents once had. She wanted to dance with the man she adored while two hundred of their friends and family members bore witness. She wanted to dress up in a puffy white gown and feel like a princess because for so much of our lives, she hadn't felt important to anyone but me. And while I'd never suggest a five-tier wedding cake or a luxury tablescape was a requirement for anyone, I'd worked enough weddings to know the care and planning that went into making a wedding perfect was a beautiful symbol of commitment; Abby wanted her wedding to be a big deal because the love she and Dex had found was a big deal.

I couldn't agree more… even if I was a bit worried she was working too hard. I was just grateful she'd made the effort to come into town to celebrate my birthday. And frankly, I couldn't entirely blame her fatigue for the way she'd fallen asleep immediately after dinner. After the two bottles of wine we'd all shared, I was feeling happily dozy myself.

Oscar

How did your mom's soup recipe turn out? Did Abby feel pampered on her birthday?

Hugh

Soup was great. But it was my birthday, not hers.

Abby shifted on the sofa and blinked her eyes open. "I didn't fall asleep, I swear."

I bit back a grin and tried to give her my serious face. "I believe you. One hundred percent. And on an unrelated note, some drool is caked to your chin."

My phone buzzed.

Oscar

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

Shit. I winced. Had I been completely sober, I might have realized mentioning it was my birthday would make him feel beholden.

Hugh

Stop whatever it is you're doing.

Oscar

This is a late April Fools joke. Tell me you're pulling my leg.

Hugh

It's April 8th. April Fools jokes only work on April 1st. That's kind of the point.

Oscar

Are you at home for deliveries?

Hugh

No. No deliveries.

Oscar

Hush. If FRANK chooses to send his best friend something, that's his business. But tell me this—what person in their RIGHT MIND cooks for everyone on his own birthday?

Hugh

Someone who loves making his people happy?

Oscar

You're too good for this earth, Hugh Linzee.

Hugh

It was vegetable soup, Oscar. Not a soufflé.

Oscar

And how did Louis like your soup?

I blinked. Louis and I had been seeing each other here and there, but it hadn't occurred to me to invite him to my birthday dinner. Maybe I didn't want to run the risk of him advising my sister and Dex on prenups.

Hugh

No Louis today. Just family.

Oscar

And Rafa.

Hugh

Rafa is family. We've been friends forever.

I put my phone away when Rafa and Dex came back into the family room and joined us. Rafa was in the middle of telling Dex about his latest event-planning job. He'd scored a huge contract managing a charity gala and couldn't stop talking about the enormous budget he'd get to spend.

The conversation naturally progressed until Abby was interrogating me on what cool wedding trends I'd noticed this season.

"Abs, the season's only a few weeks old. Other than seeing a lot of burnished gold instead of silver, I've got nothing to report."

"Huh." She waved a hand at her fiancé. "Dex, remember that."

He gave her a mock salute from his spot on the floor. "I remember every word you say, baby. Burnished gold. My favorite kind of… gold."

Rafa snorted and took another sip of wine. "If it isn't, it should be. Everything's going that way this year. But if the two of you aren't getting married until December, I suggest navy and burgundy. The burgundy will be a nod to the holidays without being on the nose."

This was probably the only group of people I would sit around and talk weddings with without having to worry about boring someone. Dex was so in love with my sister he'd put up with the topic of conversation for any length of time, though it was far from being in his wheelhouse.

After another forty-five minutes or so, our door buzzed. Rafa jumped up. "Got it. My sister said she might send something over. That's probably from her."

It wasn't. When he got back from meeting the delivery driver, he was holding a high-end crate of some kind, filled with various packages wrapped in brown paper and tied with black-and-white-striped twine.

"Elena went overboard," I said, eyes widening. "What the hell is that?"

"It's not from my sister," Rafa said, placing the crate in my lap. "She would have never sent you a box of bacon, bro."

I stared down at the collection of packages and saw a chic logo stamped on all of them. Divine Swine.

A semi-hysterical laugh bubbled up through my chest and out of my mouth. "Oh my god."

Abby pointed. "There's a card. Who's it from?"

I didn't need to see the card to know. "Oscar. I once told him I had an unhealthy interest in gourmet bacon." And he'd remembered.

"You're smiling like an idiot," Abby said with her own idiot smile.

"It was thoughtful," I said defensively.

"No shit," Rafa said, reaching over to swipe one of the paper packages. He studied the handwriting below the logo label. "Rosemary peppercorn."

Dex peered over my shoulder. "Bourbon smoke. Jesus, that sounds good."

Abby put her hands together over her chest. "I'm going to cry. That's the sweetest thing ever. How did he know it was your birthday? You never tell anyone."

"I…" There was no way I could admit that Oscar hadn't known until an hour ago. Knowing he must have dropped everything to find someone to make this happen in record time… It made me feel like a million dollars. "I don't know," I said.

I wanted to hug the crate to my chest and inhale the incredible scents coming off it. Instead, I forced myself to set it down so I could text him.

Hugh

You had me at bacon.

Oscar

Don't say I never gave you a good pork, Hugh Linzee.

I barked out a laugh and shoved the phone in my pocket to hide the message. Despite the heat on my face, I enjoyed his teasing. Oscar never failed to put me in a better mood. Even on nights like tonight, when I was already enjoying myself, he somehow made things even more fun.

It wasn't until late that night, after my sister and Dex had left and Rafa had taken off for another hookup, that I pulled out my phone again.

Oscar

Happy birthday, friend. You deserve the very best. I hope this year is the one when all your dreams come true.

Instead of answering, I slid the phone under my pillow, closed my eyes, and fell asleep wishing the same.

* * *

By the end of May,I'd been seeing Louis regularly for a few months, and things were looking good. He'd taken me to dinner at restaurants with no prices on the menu and a multitude of forks on the table. We'd gone to his favorite wine bar so often we had a "usual table." And he'd already begun talking about splurging on a private jet for a luxury weekend golf trip to Scotland to celebrate our six-month anniversary this fall, which seemed a little over-the-top, even to a die-hard romantic like me, especially since I didn't play golf, but I was here for it… mostly because it showed how much Louis was here for it.

Unfortunately, his first meeting with Abby and Dex had been a little awkward—Louis hadn't spoken much—but Abby had chalked that up to nerves, and I was pretty sure she was right. When we were alone, things were different. Louis and I spent hours talking about his friends and family, his hobbies and interests, and… divorce. Good lord, did we talk about divorce. I figured this came with the territory when you were dating a divorce attorney though, and I told myself it was easy enough to overlook since Louis was always so supportive of my work, even offering to spend a few summer evenings strolling through the park in search of people to interview for my Real Life HEAs TikTok account.

It wasn't until the end of June that I learned the truth.

During a late-night editing session, I messaged a guy from one of the HEA videos to ask if he wanted me to try and edit out his work name badge, and he came back to me with attitude.

"You know, I thought your platform was cool. I thought it was a cute thing you were doing. But I gotta say, bringing a divorce attorney along to pitch us his services after the interview? Pretty fucking uncool, man."

"What?" I wrote back as fast as my fingers could move. "He did that?!"

The guy sent me a pic of Louis's business card with a message scrawled on the back in his familiar handwriting. "If your HEA turns into a WTF."

I stared at it in shock.

After offering prolonged, embarrassing apologies to him and every other client I could remember Louis meeting—because of course, it hadn't been a onetime thing—my hands were shaking. Unfortunately, Oscar was on the other side of the world and would most likely be in the middle of his important meeting in Macau, so I couldn't bother him with something so trivial. Instead, I sent a text to Rafa.

Hugh

Louis fucked with my HEA reputation. What do I do?

Even though Rafa was supposed to be working a corporate happy-hour event, he called me immediately. "Tell me everything."

After blurting it out in one long run-on sentence, I heaved in a breath. "What do I say to him?"

"Two words: Fuck. Off. That's what we say to men who toy with our hearts, Hugh. We don't let them get away with it."

Rafa knew that wasn't my style, so I had to wonder whether he was projecting a little bit. I hadn't heard his telltale Grindr notifications going off in a long while, but when I'd asked about it, he'd been remarkably close-lipped. "Okay, I think I'm going to sleep on it."

"Better idea: sleep on it with vodka."

I rolled my eyes. Rafa knew I tried not to drink during the spring and summer wedding rush. There was nothing worse than trying to work late hours while sweating your balls off when you'd started the day already dehydrated and hungover.

"Sure," I joked. "Solid plan."

"I'm serious. Get some clothes on. I'll be home in forty minutes, and we're going out. Tonight, we're drinking to forget."

I groaned, but I knew better than to argue. Rafa hadn't liked Louis to begin with, so he was itching to spend several hours saying I told you so without actually saying "I told you so," while also reminding me that the world was full of men who weren't assholes, so maybe I should consider finding one.

But I knew plenty of non-assholes. Guys who were smart and charming, who made me laugh and sent me birthday bacon. The trouble was, none of them were ever interested in a lifelong commitment… at least not with me.

And sometimes, like right then, I honestly didn't know what to do about that.

Continuing to put myself out there constantly, actively searching and never finding, seemed a little bit… well, pathetic. But the alternative—giving up my dream, building defensive walls around myself so wide and thick that love couldn't find me with a GPS tracker—seemed downright impossible. I wasn't choosing to want love any more than I chose to breathe oxygen. I simply didn't know any other way to be.

That didn't mean I didn't feel like a total fool for getting my hopes up yet again though. It didn't mean I wasn't scared that I might spend my whole life dreaming about love—making it my literal job, for god's sake—and never find it for myself. It didn't mean I wasn't hurt.

So I did what I swore I wouldn't do and got absolutely, horrendously shitfaced. Drunker than I'd been in a very long time. Drunk enough that I called Louis from the bar and broke up with him immediately, while I was still incoherent enough to ignore all of his excuses.

The only silver lining was that Rafa kept up with me drink for drink and ended up passed out on the floor of his bathroom in agony.

If only that was what I'd done too.