CLOSER (Taint Book 2) Page 5

  “Hey, Deb, I wish I could say it was nice to see you too, but it’s really not.”

  “Whatever, waste of space. Why don’t you go and cry to mummy?”

  “Jesus, brutal much?” Levi’s voice cracks, and I think even Deb decides to feel sorry for him. I can’t turn from my place in front of the mirror. I can’t look at him. I’m so happy he came. I didn’t believe he would ever talk to either one of us again after the hospital in Prague, but he’s here. If nothing else, he cares enough about Coop and me to show up.

  “Ali, your other fuck buddy is here,” Deb says, and I sigh, because she needs to quit calling him that. It’s been almost a year since we had sex, and I don’t even know if we’re buddies at all anymore, let alone the fucking.

  “This won’t take long,” Levi says.

  “Surprise, surprise, it never does with you.”

  “Deb,” I say, and she shoots me a venomous look.

  “Fine, I need another drink anyway, but if you ditch my brother for this piece of shit, I will find you, Jones, and I will gut you like a fish.”

  “Bye, Deb.”

  “I just remembered I need something from the downstairs bar,” Tim says, finally coming out of the bathroom. He walks by me and smiles with a gentle squeeze to my shoulder. “I’ll be back in ten.”

  Tim, much like Deb, doesn’t have a lot of sympathy for Levi. This is on account of him being there when Levi called me from Paris while he was fucking another woman. It hurt. A lot. I know I probably deserved it, because I’d broken his heart. In the beginning I’d toyed with Levi to get back at Cooper, but the more time we spent together, the more I fell. It had been discovering I wasn’t in love with him that had forced me to leave, along with being drugged and photographed naked by Zed’s brother Leif and a piece-of-shit paparazzo. I was in over my head, and no matter which way I turned, one of us got hurt. So I left. But I broke all of our hearts in the process, not just mine, and there was one I still couldn’t heal.

  Levi steps into the room. He halts, his smile falling. I grimace.

  “Do I look that bad?” I smooth my hands down over the black lace of my wedding gown. “Oh God, I look like an arsehole in this dress, don’t I?”

  He clears his throat. “You look—”

  “What? Is it too much? Should I get rid of the red lips?”

  “Don’t even think about it,” he says, coming closer.

  Tears prick my eyes and I fight to keep them from falling and ruining my make-up. I throw my arms around his neck, and he slides his large hands around my waist and squeezes me tightly, burying his face in my neck. “You came.”

  “Not yet, but give me time,” Levi murmurs. I laugh. “You look incredible, Ali.”

  “You’re not just saying that?”

  “Would it help if I told you I have a raging boner for you in this dress?” he says, and though I can’t be sure with all the fabric that separates us, something tells me he isn’t kidding. I chuckle anyway and step back, shaking the nervous energy out of my hands. It doesn’t work.

  “Oddly enough, yes. That helps.”

  “Excellent. Should I tell you that I want to push you back on that table, pull up your dress and slide my huge cock inside you right now?”

  I let out a huge breath. “Okay, not helping.”

  “Right,” he says with a sigh. “Marrying my bandmate.”

  “Not that it’s not nice to see you, but what are you doing here?”

  “I figured I wouldn’t get to see you much afterward to wish you congratulations, and I had something for you.”

  My heart squeezes. “Why won’t you see me?”

  “Because I’ll likely be drunk off my arse, or buried balls deep in some hot wedding guest.” I flinch, because though I know it shouldn’t, it still hurts to hear him talk like that. “Anyway, I wanted you to be the first to hear this.”

  He pulls his phone from his pocket, and I stare at it. “Your phone? You know I have one, right?”

  “Not the phone, what’s on it.”

  “Okay,” I search his gaze, still not really comprehending. “I’m listening.”

  He walks over to the entertainment unit and plugs the phone into the iPod dock. With a few taps, the sound of a bare piano filters through the room. It’s haunting and so beautiful, and after a beat, a gravelly voice begins to sing.

  I glance at Levi, because though I don’t get to hear his singing voice often, other than on backing vocals for Coop, I recognise it instantly. I don’t recognise the song, though. “You wrote this?”

  “Think of it as a gift to the two of you.” He shakes his head. “Fuck. Coop already got my girl, and here I am giving him a wedding gift too? There’s something wrong with my fucking head.”

  I swallow back the lump in my throat. “I love it.”

  Levi takes several steps towards me and holds his hands outstretched. “Dance with me?”

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

  “Why not? Afraid I’ll steal you away?” His mouth turns up in a wolfish smile. It feels like forever since I’ve seen him grin like this. “Come on, Red. One last dance?”

  I sigh and take his hand. “We never had a first dance.”

  “We were dancing from the second I first laid eyes on you, or at least I thought we were. Turns out I was just over here dancing on my own like a tool.”

  “You just haven’t found the right partner yet, but when you do, she’s going to make anything you had with me seem inferior, like wasted time. And I think it will kill me, as much as I love Coop, and I do love him, more than anyone will ever know, you’ll still break my heart when you find her.”

  I lean up and press a kiss to his cheek. Levi being Levi, turns his head quickly so that my lips are pressed against his. He pulls me closer, pressing me so tightly to him I can’t breathe and pushes his tongue into my mouth. I don’t kiss him back. I wait. A beat later he pulls away, and I stare up into those shining green eyes. I press my hand to my lips and then quickly reach up and wipe the smear of my red lipstick from his mouth.

  “You shouldn’t—”

  “I know. I had to give it one last try, though.” He shrugs. His eyes are bloodshot and filled with so much sorrow that I feel it like a knife in my chest. “See if I couldn’t still get you to run away with me.”

  “I’m marrying Cooper. I love Cooper.”

  “You loved me once too. Maybe not as much as him, but you still did.”

  “I still do. A part of me will always love you, Levi.”

  “But you love him more.” The way he says this isn’t a question, it’s a fact we both know. It’s the reason I’m standing here in a frou-frou dress, about to be the centre of attention in a wedding I didn’t really want. I just wanted the man at the end of the altar forever. I could do without the dress, and the guests, the cake, and a big celebration. I could do without all of it, but I couldn’t do without Cooper Ryan.

  I nod imperceptibly, and even though we both knew the answer already, he lets out a huge sigh. It’s as if we’re transported back to that parking lot outside Charleston where he begged me not to leave them, not to leave him, to choose him, and I can see for the second time in my life this man’s heart breaking right in front of me.

  “Right, well. I need a big fuckin’ drink, and you need to dry your eyes and give yourself to the lead singer of my band, so ...” He takes a step away and glances me over from head to toe. “Congratulations. I hope it’s everything you dreamed and more.”

  “Levi—”

  “Don’t worry about me, Red. Your open bar is gonna be my girl tonight, and after that, who knows?” He shakes his head, and his shoulders sag in defeat. “Who gives two fucking shits?”

  “I do,” I say, taking a step towards him. “We all do.”

  Levi exhales. “Couldn’t you let me be a teensy bit dramatic. I don’t get to be a diva very often. That’s Coop’s job.”

  I laugh because I know how Cooper gets on the road. It’s his way or the hi
ghway. But stubborn arse or not, I still love him. I can’t help it. “Just don’t fall off the radar, okay? I’m still your friend.”

  “We were never friends, Ali.” He pushes a strand of hair that’s come loose from my chignon out of my eyes. “I’m not sure we can ever be friends, but if that’s the only way I get to have you, I’ll try. Can’t promise I won’t sneak a kiss every once in a while, just to piss him off.”

  I chuckle. “Get out of here, arsehole.”

  He holds his hands up in surrender. “Going.”

  Levi opens the door and glances back. His brows knit together, and his eyes are glassy. He looks me over, head to toe, and takes a deep breath in through his nose. “I've never hated him as much as I do right now.”

  I give him a sad smile, swallowing the lump in my throat. The door snicks softly closed behind him, and my whole body deflates. I sniff back my tears, so they won’t ruin my make-up. It doesn’t work. Within seconds they’re streaming down my face unchecked. Thank God, I didn’t wear white. I grab a tissue and blot in the mirror. I remove the smear of make-up from Levi’s kiss, and then I grab the bottle of champagne from the table and chug back huge gulps. By the time Deb and Tim come back into the room, I’m no longer crying, but I still look a wreck.

  “Jesus Christ, you look like shit.”

  “Thank you, Deb.” I heave a huge sigh. “That’s just what every bride wants to hear ten minutes before she walks down the aisle.”

  She shrugs, but for a brief second, I meet her gaze, and I think I see empathy in them, and then I know I must have drunk too much because my soon-to-be sister-in-law doesn’t do empathy ... in a big way. She pulls out her phone and dials a number. “Yeah, hi, it’s the maid of honour here.”

  I frown at her. I don’t remember promoting her but seeing as she’s the only friend I have in the bridal party who isn’t male, I guess it’s a fair assumption of her to make. “Can you come fix her make-up? She had to go and get overly emotional about her ex, and now it looks like she just got drowned in the Mediterranean.”

  Tim stands behind me, I meet his gaze in the mirror. “You okay?”

  “No. But I will be.”

  “That’a girl.” He wraps his arms around me and rests his head on my shoulder. It isn’t sexual. Tim’s like a brother to me, and has finally found a girl who treats him right. He’s not doing anything to mess that up. “I know it hurts, but you made the only decision you could live with.”

  “I know.” I swallow hard. “It just sucks, seeing him in pain like that. Knowing that I’m the cause of it.”

  “All right, Jones,” Deb says. “Quit cryin’ like a little bitch and get your shit together. Make-up and hair are on their way to fix your damn face. Again. And if you fuck it up with tears before you get to the altar, I’m going to kick your arse.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE END

  LEVI

  I stand with my bandmates as the first strains of “All I Want is You” begin to play, and Ali appears. She’s fucking breathtaking in her black gown, her hair pulled back from her face in a messy, totally Ali way, and of course those fucking lucky red cons. Coop made the entire bridal party wear them. I stare at her, wishing she’d glance in my direction, just once, but she doesn’t.

  Of course, she doesn’t.

  She isn’t here to marry me. She didn’t choose me. She chose him. She chose all fucking wrong, but I guess she’s doing this new thing where she doesn’t listen to reason.

  I’m not mad at her. I let this happen. I pushed Cooper fucking Ryan right back into her arms, and I only have myself to blame. I tried to be all noble and give the woman I love the happiness she deserves.

  I’m a fucking idiot.

  And here we are. Her walking down the aisle towards another man, and me silently begging her, pleading with her to look at me, to see me, to take my hand and let me lead her away, but I know that would never happen, and there’s nothing that can be done about it.

  The angry French girl from the pool yesterday draws out the final note from her cello and lowers her bow just as Ali takes her place alongside Cooper. The celebrant begins the ceremony. I can’t hear a thing but the whooshing in my ears, and then my band brother and best friend Ash is leaning into me. “Hey, you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m just fucking peachy.”

  “Dude, no one would blame you for skipping out early.”

  “I can’t do that,” I say automatically, but as soon as the words have left my mouth, I wonder why that is. Is it because I have to see if there’s even the slightest hint of hesitation from her, or is it because I just love to torture myself?

  “Levi—”

  “Let it go, Ash,” I whisper in a hiss. Deb, Zed, Coop, and Ali all swivel their heads and glare at me.

  Coop’s brow is all pinched up as if he’s annoyed, but for the first time since I left her room, Ali’s eyes meet mine, and I discover that the absolute worst thing besides losing the woman you love to your bandmate, is having that woman look at you on her wedding day with pity in her eyes.

  While she’s staring at a future filled with happily ever after, I’m looking at the end of mine.

  The celebrant continues, casting me a pointed glare when she says, “Let’s proceed.”

  I swallow back the bile burning my throat and continue to stare at Ali.

  This is it.

  Any second now she’s going to turn to me and say she made a mistake. That she doesn’t love him, and that my world isn’t going to be ripped apart ... because she’s choosing me. Only she doesn’t turn to me, she doesn’t say the words I’m longing to hear, but instead, she says the worst possible thing I can ever imagine coming from her lips. The worst thing, when she’s not directing those words at me.

  “I do.”

  Coop sweeps her up into a full-out kiss, and I do something I should have done the second Red asked me to fuck her. I walk away, and I don’t look back.

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHEERS DARLIN’

  LEVI

  “Meow yourself,” I say, as Angry French Girl joins me at the bar. The reception is due to start any minute, and I’m sure she’s supposed to be greeting the guests with the sound of her cello as they arrive, but it seems AFG didn’t get the memo about the reception starting early—at least for me, anyway. She smiles at the bartender and orders in French. Fuck. That’s hot, and if I weren’t so goddam miserable, I’d push her up against the bar and tell her she was going to be a little late in starting her set.

  I don’t know if she’s deliberately flirting with the help, and fuck knows what the hell they’re saying, but I don’t like the way he looks at her. I don’t like the dismissive way she looks at me, so I slam my glass down on the bar and jerk my head at the waiter.

  His arrogant gaze slides to me, then back to AFG, as if to say, “Can you believe this guy?”

  “Fill it up, sweetheart.” I shoot him a wink. He looks horrified. “And keep ’em coming.”

  “Are you taking my advice to sleep with a French man after all?”

  “That depends. Are you finally going to give me your room number, because I should warn you now, I am an expert at navigating threesomes.”

  “Really?”

  “Uh-huh. It just so happens I’m so good at sharing, that I gave away the bride to that fucking douchebag Ryan.”

  “Okay, well good luck with that,” she says, but her eyes are no longer on me, they’re firmly fixed on the bartender, as if she’s commiserating with him. “Excuse me, I have to tune my instrument.”

  I nod to the cello resting in its stand against the far wall of the room. “You’re good.”

  “No, I am the best.”

  I chuckle. “I have no doubt.”

  “Too bad you’ll never find out how true that statement really is.” She walks away.

  I slide off the bar stool and grab her wrist, pulling her up short. “You need to stop walking away from me, Angry French Girl.”

  She glances coolly at her wrist h
eld in mine. “And you need to learn how to take a hint, roi de la chatte.”

  The bartender makes a choking sound, and I have no idea what she just called me, but I want to hear it again and again, as I pound my dick inside her. I’m just about to extend the invitation when we’re interrupted by a geriatric giant.

  “Levi! What the fuck, man? I’ve been looking for you all over.” Zed.

  “Fucking, cock blocker,” I hiss.

  “Hey, you’re the cellist.” Zed points to AFG, unable to take the fucking hint that he’s not welcome here. “You’re really good.”

  “Merci.”

  “Do you have a card or something?”

  “Oui, one moment.” She holds up a finger to indicate he should wait and she pulls a business card from her tiny purse and hands it to him. Fucking arsehole. I’m trying for a whole twenty-four hours to get a number out of this woman, and Zed accomplishes it in two seconds flat. “Excusez-moi. I have to go, or I’m afraid I will be fired.”

  She slinks off. I yank the card out of Zed’s hand and study it. Brielle Kagawa. That’s not a French name. Or ... maybe it’s only half a French name. Underneath is her phone number. I pull out my phone and save it to my contacts. “Thanks, I’ve been looking for this.”

  “You’re welcome.” He gives me one of those child-like grins and claps me on the shoulder. “Now come on, they need us for photos.”

  “I’m not taking any fucking photos. Red and Ryan don’t want me messing up the snapshots of their happy day, anyway.”

  Fuck. Even their names match. Arseholes.

  And just like that, I’m reminded all too keenly why alcohol is going to be my girl tonight.

  ***

  I sit by the bar and down another shot of patron. Weddings suck balls. Correction, weddings suck balls when you’re in love with the bride. Usually I love weddings, the booze, the cake, the women. This wedding though? It was perfect. A goddam fucking fairy tale in the French Riviera. No paps, no reporters, no helicopter hovering overhead. Just stars and romance and lovey-dovey shit enough to make me want to puke. Or maybe that’s thanks to the half bottle of patron I’d consumed since sitting at this very bar.