: Chapter 23

Fuck.

That has been the word of choice for the past twenty-four hours. I’ve just been living in a constant state of fuck. If it’s not one thing, it’s another.

Things are strained. Kelsey might be putting on a happy face, but I now know when she’s not her normal self. And right now, her smile isn’t even close to reaching her eyes. Her text messages dwindled as the day went on and when I expected her to smile at me while walking down the aisle, she tore her eyes away, over and over again.

And I don’t blame her. Through Huxley, I found out that the girls know about the email. When I started to call Kelsey to explain, Huxley told me that Lottie had backed me up. She’d assured him that everything was okay and that Kelsey didn’t want to talk about it. So, I held back even though I didn’t want to.

But now we’re here, together, and I know she’s putting on a show. I can fucking feel it. I feel her slipping away, and if it were under any other circumstances, I’d pull her to the side to explain everything to her, but unfortunately, now is not the time.

And just to make things worse, fucking Jill had to go and say, “Compared to this morning, you look amazing.” Considering I wasn’t at my house when Kelsey woke up this morning, this looks bad. Really bad.

It looks like I fucking slept with the girl, after I wouldn’t sleep with my own girlfriend the night before. And from the stiff set in Kelsey’s shoulders, I’m thinking that’s exactly what’s going through her mind.

I know her from our lawyer’s office. She’s Taylor’s secretary, so she was privy to the whole extortion fiasco. I saw Jill at the coffee shop this morning. And she was right, I’m looking better than this morning because I thought the nightmare was over.

Now . . . not so much.

Gripping Kelsey’s arm, I lean close to her ear and ask, “Can I speak with you?”

“Not now,” she says through clenched teeth.

“I need to explain.”

Her eyes flash to mine. “Not. Now.”

And then she pulls away as the wedding planner calls her to take a picture with Lottie, Huxley, her mom, and Jeff. My gut churns as I watch her put on a happy face and smile with her family. I see the tight grip she has on her bouquet, as if it’s the only part of her that can show any sort of emotion, and when they’re done with the picture, she doesn’t come stand next to me. She stays near Lottie, helping with her dress and assisting the photographer and wedding planner. Some might think she’s being the dutiful maid of honor, but I know she’s avoiding me.

After an hour of torturous pictures, we’re lined up at the entrance to the adjoining rooftop where everyone is waiting, and we wait to be announced.

Kelsey’s shoulder bumps into mine as we wait and I attempt to take her hand in mine, but she doesn’t allow it. It’s not until we’re walking out onto the rooftop that she briefly holds my hand up to the sky before dropping it at her side. Then she goes straight to our assigned seats and sits. I take my seat next to her and drape my arm over the back of her chair while Lottie and Huxley dance to an acoustic version of Fleetwood Mac’s Dreams.

“Baby, I need you to listen to me,” I say quietly so only she can hear me. “Jill is the name of the girl who came up to me, she works for Taylor. She saw me this morning at the coffee shop. She was grabbing bagels and coffee for her team. I know it looks bad, but I need you to know, what you’re thinking about what she said isn’t even close to the truth.”

She keeps her eyes trained on the happy couple. She doesn’t acknowledge me, doesn’t even flinch. I know she heard me because the smallest tear rolls down her cheek before she swipes it away.

“Kelsey, please tell me you believe me.”

She sniffs and brings her handkerchief to her eyes before saying, “Yes.”

“Do you really?”

Still watching Huxley and Lottie, she replies, “I have to, right?”

“No,” I answer, concerned by the cold tone in her voice. “You don’t. You can talk about it, you can tell me how you’re feeling.”

“The happy couple would like to invite everyone to join them on the dance floor as they finish dancing to their first song,” the DJ says.

Kelsey stands and I follow her closely, but when she doesn’t stop at the dance floor and keeps moving through the crowd, I catch up to her quickly. She weaves past a few tables, down the stairs, and into the private rooms below, straight into the bride’s suite.

I shut the door behind me, and when I turn around, I see her shaking her hands and pacing the room as she takes deep breaths. “Don’t break down. Don’t break down,” she says over and over again.

“Kelsey, talk to me, baby.”

She pauses, and with deflated shoulders, she says, “I—” Her voice catches. “I don’t . . . I don’t know what’s happening.” When she looks up, tears fall down her cheeks, cascading in a steady flow. “I was so happy last night. I was . . . I was going to tell you I love you, for fuck’s sake.”

She what? Fuck . . . why did she say that in the past tense?

“But then, it was as if I was too happy and something was bound to happen. That’s what I kept saying. It was too good to be true, all of it. And I was right.”

“No, you weren’t,” I say. “It wasn’t too good to be true.”

She shakes her head. “No, it was. Because here I thought that we—that we were in a good place, but we weren’t. Do you realize how much courage it took me to ask you to do those naughty things? That’s not me, JP. That’s not the person I am, and then to be standing in front of you, completely naked, only for you to turn me down . . .” She chokes up. “It broke a piece of me.”

“Baby, it’s not that I didn’t want you. I always want you.”

“Not last night. And when I thought that maybe it was just because I was drunk, that maybe I turned you off, you didn’t even hold me to reassure me. You were cold. Distant. Do you know the kind of damage that does to a woman? You can’t do that, JP. You can’t fucking do that.”

Fuck.

I step toward her, but she holds up her hand. “Don’t. Please don’t touch me, because I know if you do, I won’t be able to say what I want to say. I’ll just want to curl into you and wish that none of this happened. But it did happen. And then . . . then I hear about this email you sent to a bunch of women.”

“Before we were together,” I say quickly. “I was hurting so fucking bad for you. I wrote it that night I got wasted. I didn’t even know I did it, which I know sounds terrible, but it was after you went out with Derek and I . . . I didn’t know how to handle it. It meant nothing.”

“That’s what Lottie believed to have happened and I believe you, I truly do, but it only added to the pain I was feeling, the sadness. It took everything in me to ignore the fact that you didn’t want me, that you didn’t wake up with me, that you were reaching out to other women, but that Jill girl . . .”

“I told you—”

“Where were you this morning?”

“With Breaker,” I say. “He called me at five.” I tug on my hair. “Fuck, I wanted to tell you this last night, but you were drunk and I didn’t think it would go over well. An online gossip website had the email submitted to them, they were going to publish it, and the article wasn’t fucking good. So, we spent last night and this morning making sure it went away. And we did, but I had to rush over to Breaker’s this morning for some negotiations. After that, I grabbed your favorite coffee, and that’s when I saw Jill. I was hoping you’d still be asleep by the time I got home, but because I’ve had shit luck the past twenty-four hours, you were awake. I swear, Kelsey, this has just been a complete shitshow that I wanted to tell you about. You have to know I wouldn’t cheat on you, that I . . . fuck, that I love—”

“Don’t.” She holds up her hand again. “Please don’t say that. Those words aren’t meant to save a relationship, they’re meant to fortify it. Don’t say it to make me feel better.”

“But it’s how I feel. You have to know that.”

She wipes at her eyes and turns away from me.

“Kelsey, please.”

Blotting at her eyes, she says, “I believe you, JP. I really do.”

Why do I feel like there’s a “but” behind that statement?

When she lowers her handkerchief, she looks me in the eyes and says, “I just need a second. Okay? My emotions are super heightened right now, and I don’t want to say something I’m going to regret. Can we just go back out there and celebrate our siblings getting married?”

“If that’s what you want,” I say.

She sucks in a sharp breath and says, “That’s what I want.”

“Okay.” I walk up to her and take her hand, but she gently tugs it away.

“No,” she says. “Let’s celebrate . . . separately.”

Panic clogs my throat as I choke out, “Wh-what do you mean? Are you breaking up with me?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing, JP. I just need some space right now.”

“Please don’t do this, Kelsey.” Everything I’ve wanted is crumbling in front of me. “Don’t distance yourself from me. I need you, baby. Don’t you see that? I’d never do anything to hurt you. Last night was . . . fuck, I was trying to protect you. I was trying—”

She presses her hand to my chest. “Please, JP, just give me some time. There’s a full-on insecurity battle raging in my head right now, and I need to tackle that first before I do anything else.”

“You have nothing to be insecure about.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been looking for the right person to complete me. But no one would look my way, and if they did, it never lasted. I’ve been unlucky at love, and that’s damaging. It makes me think ‘What’s wrong with me? Why doesn’t anyone want to be with me?’ I’ve wondered that for so long.”

“Baby, I’m telling you, I see you. I want to be with you.”

“Yes, but last night, you didn’t. That’s where I’m struggling, because in my mind, no matter what you’re going through in life, your partner in life should be there, by your side, through thick and thin. You . . . you left me out in the cold last night, naked and shamed. I understand that wasn’t your intention, but given my past insecurities, I’m trying to mentally deal with the rejection. So, please, just give me that time.”

Fuck.

I want to tell her I love her.

That I’ve never been happier than when she’s in my arms.

That I don’t want to go another day without making her mine.

But from the distant look in her eyes, I know my words will mean nothing right now.

Absolutely nothing.

So, I do the one thing I don’t want to fucking do, I take a step back and pull on the back of my neck as I say, “Okay, take your time. But just know, whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here, waiting for you. I’m not going anywhere, Kelsey. You can push me away as much as you want, but I’ll keep coming back.”

And with that, she slips out of the room and back to the reception. Needing a goddamn moment, I take a seat on one of the couches in the room and rest my elbows on my knees before driving my hands through my hair.

Fuck . . .

“HOW DID IT GO?” Breaker asks as he joins me at the bar. I have a water in my hand, not bothering with drowning my sorrows, but staying close to the alcohol in case I change my mind.

“How did what go?” I snap at him, keeping my voice low. “Oh, you mean my conversation with Kelsey? Fucking great, can’t you tell? We’re happily in love as we speak.”

“I’m sensing a heavy dose of sarcasm.”

“No shit, how could you even tell?”

“Well, for one thing, you’re sporting one of the most intense scowls I’ve ever seen. The wedding planner actually asked me if I had the magic to fix your face. Secondly, Kelsey, from what I’ve seen, has avoided you all night. Which, you know, seems suspicious since you two were all over one another at the rehearsal party last night, before the whole email thing went down. So, from that evidence, I’m pretty sure it’s safe to conclude that you’re being sarcastic.”

I bring my glass to my lips and stare at the dance floor, where Kelsey is dancing with Lottie and their mom to Fireball by Pitbull. “I hate you, you know that?”

“Why do you hate me? I’m pretty sure I helped save your ass this morning.”

“Yeah, what great that did. She still won’t fucking talk to me.”

“Seems like a ‘you’ issue.”

Slowly, I turn my head to face him. He awkwardly smiles and shrugs. “Not the right thing to say?”

“Not even a little.”

“Maybe I should work on my people skills.”

“Maybe you should just leave me the fuck alone.”

“Why is the wedding planner sending me over here to tell you to fix your face?” Huxley asks in a whisper as he walks up to us.

“Jesus, tell the wedding planner to fix her own face and leave me the fuck alone.”

“Need I remind you it’s my wedding day?” Huxley asks in a tone so low, that I barely hear him.

“Is it?” I ask. “Huh, is that why we’re in these suits? Well, fuck, got to tell you, man, the shrimp was fucking terrible. Should’ve taste-tested.”

I can feel the wrath of Huxley ready to explode, but before it can, Breaker pushes against my chest, moving me away, and calls over his shoulder, “I’ll take care of it.”

“Aren’t you a sweetheart,” I say as he ushers me to a table at the far back. We both take a seat. “What are you going to say to me? Offer some lecture? Guess what? I don’t need to hear it from my little brother, who clearly has no idea what it’s like to fall in love.”

“I’m not going to lecture you. I just want to ask you how you are.”

“Not good, man, isn’t that obvious?”

“It is. What can I do to help? Want me to talk to her? I can tell her everything that happened, back you up.”

I shake my head as I slouch in my chair. “No, she fucking believes it all.”

“Then what’s the problem?” he asks.

“The problem is, in my sheer panic last night, I fucked up. She was vulnerable, and I was too caught up in my own head, worried I was going to lose her. I didn’t give her the comfort she needed.”

“What are you talking about?”

I smooth my hands over my pant legs and say, “Kelsey has insecurities about being loveable. I keep telling her it’s because she hasn’t found the right guy, but I don’t think that translates in her head. She believes it has to do with her. Last night, she was looking for that reassurance, but like a fucking moron, I didn’t give her what she needed. I didn’t see it then, but now that I played it over in my head, I realize that I’m the biggest fucking idiot. I inadvertently played into those insecurities. And it makes me fucking sick.”

“Shit . . .” Breaker rests one of his arms on the table as he looks out at the dance floor with me. “What are you going to do?”

“She asked for time, so I’m going to give it to her.”

“Are you broken up?”

“Not sure. Feels like it, though, and I only have myself to blame.”

“DON’T TEXT HER, she wants some space. Texting her will only irritate her,” I say to myself as I pace the length of my kitchen island the day after the wedding. “Do not text her. DO NOT.”

I stare down at my phone on my marble countertop.

DON’T!

My hand itches to grab the phone, my heart making the decision.

And before I can stop myself, I grab my phone and press send on the text I’ve already composed.

Good morning, baby. I hope you got home all right last night. I know you want space and I’m going to give you what you want, but I need you to know that I’m still thinking about you, every goddamn second. I sent over a morning-after basket with a few things to help you recover from last night. I’m here for you.JP:

I curl my lips over my teeth, staring at the text, reading it over and over again. When it’s marked as read with no response, I inwardly cringe, hating myself.

Should’ve listened to your goddamn brain.

Still giving you space, but just wanted to tell you that I miss you. I miss your warm hugs, your soft lips, the way you make me feel when you’re around. I miss everything about you, baby.JP:

Also, I just found out Kazoo, the pigeon, was adopted and I didn’t know how to tell you. I feel like maybe I played a small part in him finding a good home. I hope they treat him well.JP:

I asked for his new home address and the shelter told me that information was private. Understandable, but I really just wanted to send him a few things, you know? I’m going to miss looking at his picture on the website.JP:

Anyway, just had to tell you that. Miss you, babe.JP:

I haven’t seen any new podcast episodes. I was hoping to listen to your voice this morning on my run, so I just replayed an old one. Have I ever told you what a great host you are? You’re really funny, you ask great questions, and I can truly feel how passionate you are about romance. It’s one of the reasons why I really like you—your love for love.JP:

I shouldn’t be texting you, I know, but I had to tell you that. Okay, bye, baby.JP:

That pool float you ordered for my pool, the giant pigeon, it came in. I laughed for a solid ten minutes, blew it up, and it’s where I am now, floating naked on the pigeon. I’d send you a picture, but I shouldn’t even be contacting you. Made me laugh, and made me miss you more. I wish you were floating on it with me.JP:

I’m here, waiting for when you’re ready to talk.JP:

Fuck . . . I just miss you, Kelsey.JP:

I miss you so fucking much.JP:

Call me when you’re ready.JP:

THE FRONT DOOR to my house opens and shuts, the sound echoing through the emptiness of my dark house.

“Dude, I know you’re in here,” Breaker says. “Are you going to make me follow the scent of your unwashed body, or are you going to help a guy out and at least groan so I know where you are?”

“In here,” I say somberly from where I’m spread across the couch in my living room.

I’m not prepared for the blast of ungodly light that fills the dark room when he flips on the switch to the overhead lights.

I cover my eyes with my forearm and mutter, “Fuck . . . you.”

“Jesus Christ,” Breaker says from the entrance of the living room. “Have you fucking moved from the couch in the last week?”

“Yes.” I roll over on the couch so my stomach is pressed against the cushions. I bury my head into a throw pillow and mutter against the fabric, “I’ve gotten up to pee.”

“Shocking, I thought you’d have peed in one of the many bottles of . . . what is this?” From the corner of my eye, I see him pick up an empty bottle. “Is this root beer?”

“All natural, made with cane sugar.”

“Is it good?”

“No.” I shake my head. “But I purchased six cases of it so I’ve been drinking them.”

“Why the hell would you buy that much?”

“Wanted the feel of clutching a bottle, but without the alcohol. There’s something so . . . poetic about clutching a bottle when dealing with heartache.”

Breaker stands over me, bottle dangling from his fingers. “You know, bro, I think you’ve hit rock bottom.”

I turn again, now looking up toward the ceiling. I pinch my brow and say, “That would be an accurate description.”

“Have you made any donations lately? I know that’s your MO when you’re sad.”

I slowly swallow and say, “The pigeon shelter I’ve been supporting is now renaming its building the JP Cane Pigeon Rescue. The JPCPR. Has a fucking great ring to it. There’s some press going out next week about it. They asked if I’d show up for the dedication of the new name, and do you know how pathetic I am?”

“Tell me.” Breaker takes a seat on the coffee table in front of me.

“I told them I’d be honored, but only on one condition.” I sit up. “I asked that Kazoo be invited so I could meet him.”

“Dude—”

“That’s not the worst of it.” I look my brother dead in the eyes and say, “I commissioned some lady on Etsy to make matching a shirt and bow tie set, one that would fit me and one that would fit a pigeon . . . out of Kazoo fabric.”

“Oh fuck . . . JP.”

“I know.” I slowly nod my head. “I fucking know. Rock bottom. But the only thing that’s getting me to keep moving forward is the idea that I could take a picture with Kazoo in our matching shirts. I actually giggled at one point thinking about it.”

“Giggled?” Breaker’s eyes widen. “Come on, man. We need to get you up, showered, back to the office, back to a routine.”

“I paid extra for a rush fee. I also looked into classes on how to communicate with the pigeons. You can train them to deliver messages. I was thinking about writing a love letter to Kelsey and having a pigeon deliver it to her. Isn’t that romantic?”

Breaker stares blankly at me. “No, man. No, it’s not. It’s fucking creepy. You realize pigeons are better known as the rat of the sky?”

I pop off the couch so fast, Breaker falls back on the coffee table. “You know, that’s exactly what an uneducated nitwit would say. Did you know that pigeons are actually intelligent and complex? They’re one of the only animals on the planet to pass the mirror test. Meaning, you stick a mirror in front of them and they fucking know they’re looking at their reflection. Are rats passing that test? No, they’re just sitting there, in creepy holes, gnawing at their nuts until they can find something better to chew on.”

“Okay, sorry I mentioned it.”

“Also, there’s very little scientific evidence that pigeons carry diseases. And contrary to what’s blasted all over the media, pigeons are quite clean animals.”

“I’m not sure pigeons are being blasted on the media.”

“And you know what?” Hands on my hips, irritation roaring through me, I say, “Pigeons mate for life. They meet their one and only, and they’re set.” My voice grows scratchy as I think about Kelsey. “They don’t need to second-guess their decision. They just . . . know.”

“JP, are you okay?”

I sniff. “They understand that the feathered beauty in front of them is for them and them alone.” I wipe at my nose. “They mate, they have two chicks, and they spend the rest of their years, feather in feather, like hand in hand, flying off into the sunset.”

“I think we need to get you out of here.”

I swipe at my eyes. “That’s what I need to do. I need to ask Kelsey to be my pigeon.” Frantically, I look around for my phone. “I need to text her.”

Breaker grips my arm. “That’s not a good idea. She won’t understand.”

“Then I’ll explain it to her,” I say, feeling my expression go slightly crazy. “I’ll send her a video, telling her all about pigeon mating rituals.”

“Dude, really bad idea, especially with the way you look right now.”

“I’ll show her a video. I found this really great one about how pigeons communicate. It made me think of her, especially since one of the pigeons it focused on had some gold feathers on its neck. It reminded me of Kelsey’s eyes. In my head, I named it Kelsey and—”

Thwap.

I’m knocked back on the couch, pain ricocheting through my face as I stare up at Breaker, who’s shaking out his hand. I slowly process the warm spot on my cheek where I was struck.

“You hit me,” I say, stating the obvious.

“I’m not even sorry. It had to be done.” He lets out a deep breath. “Look around you. You’re drowning yourself in sugar cane root beer that I can only assume tastes like a foot, you’re attempting to twin with a goddamn pigeon you’ve never met, and you’re naming fictional pigeons Kelsey. This isn’t just rock bottom, this is crossing a line, and to hell if I’m going to sit back and watch. Now get the fuck up, go take a goddamn shower, and get your shit together, because there’s no way in hell Kelsey is going to want to talk to a guy who’s attempting to crack the code on pigeon communication so he can tell her how much he loves her. Newsflash—that’s not romantic.”

I blink a few times, and even though I’ve settled into the comfort of my own—if you will—nest, I realize that he’s right. Who knows if Kelsey will come back, or when . . . but if she does, she can’t find me like this. No fucking way.

I scrub my hand over my face and say, “Fuck, I’m embarrassed.”

“You should be. Fuck. Now go get clean. I’m ordering dinner, and you’re going to work tomorrow.”

“You’re right.” I stand again and head toward the stairs. “You’re right, I really need to get back to work, get back into the swing of things. Who knows, maybe this was the wake-up call I needed.”

I.

Want.

To.

Die.

This was a horrible idea. Really fucking horrible.

I miss the comfort of my couch.

I miss the dank taste of the sugar cane root beer.

And I miss the sweet sound of pigeons cooing.

Nothing seems more appealing to me at this moment, but instead, I’m sitting at a conference table, across from Kelsey—who got a fucking haircut and looks sexier than ever with her shoulder-length curled hair—listening to her give me an update on the Angelica project.

When I found out I had a meeting with her, I rushed out of my office, ran over to Breaker’s, and sank down to the ground, wrapping my hands and arms around his leg, telling him I wasn’t leaving him alone until he agreed to attend the meeting with me.

He was on a video call.

With our team in New York.

He was less than pleased.

But it was a quick yes from him so he could shake me off his leg.

But even with him at my side, I still feel the air slowly seeping from my lungs, making it increasingly harder to breathe with every second that goes by.

And Kelsey, she looks so calm, collected, not an ounce of awkwardness from her—and that’s concerning.

Very fucking concerning.

Because that can only mean one thing: she doesn’t care anymore. She doesn’t care about us. She’s given up. If she cared, she’d be stumbling over her sentences, dropping her papers, maybe even missaying some words. You know, like . . . uh . . . banana instead of bamboo. That makes zero sense, but in this frantic state, I can’t think of anything that would portray what I’m trying to say. But you get it, right?

As the Righteous Brothers would say . . . she’s lost that lovin’ feelin’.

Fuck, I should’ve sent the pigeon message.

“I think that’s all I have for you guys. Do you have any questions?” Kelsey asks as she tucks a curl behind her ear.

Yes. I have a few questions.

Why haven’t you texted me?

Have you thought about me at all?

Do you miss me like I miss you?

Have you really lost that lovin’ feelin’?

“Uh, I think we’re good,” Breaker says. “Unless, JP, you have anything?”

Kelsey’s eyes land on mine as she patiently waits.

Do you love me?

Do you want to move in with me?

Do you want to marry me?

Do you want to be my pigeon?

Breaker kicks me under the table, startling me to answer. “Uh, no, nothing. Great, uh, great work on all the projects and stuff. Really liked the, uh, the storage.”

Breaker groans next to me and then says, “Keep us updated on the cost of the engineered hardwood flooring.”

“I will.” She smiles. “Thanks.” She gathers her things, stands, and walks out of the conference room. When the door shuts, I collapse on the table.

“She doesn’t fucking miss me. Cold as stone. She didn’t even flinch when she heard my voice.”

Breaker is silent for a moment before saying, “Yeah, I actually expected her to be a little more nervous. Or at least show some feelings.”

“Right?” I bury my head in my hands. “Fuck. It’s over, isn’t it? I lost her.”

“I don’t think you lost her. I just think . . . I think she’s shielding herself. And frankly, you’re a goddamn mess right now. Maybe she’s nervous to approach you.”

“I’m nervous to approach a mirror in fear of what I might see, of course she’s not going to want to come near me.”

“Then fix it, man. She liked you because you’re charismatic, charming, and a good time. Right now, you’re just a ball of anxiety who’s one loaf of bread away from becoming a pigeon man. Show her the man she fell for. Show her the man she’s meant to be with.”

Meant to be . . .

I lift my head as an idea forms. “What did you just say?”

Looking confused, he says, “Show her the man she’s meant to be with.”

I grip Breaker’s face, bring him into mine, and kiss him right on the lips. He swats me away and wipes at his mouth as I say, “You’re so fucking smart. Why didn’t I think of that?” I bolt out of my chair and lift my fist to the sky. “I’m getting her back . . . watch this.”