First of Many Page 7

  “Rowan Xavier Thorne.”

  And there ya have it, folks; the trio’s accomplished their goals—all ready to embark on this world full of hope, pride, and excitement. Watch out, here we come!

  Sheena’s headed for The Big Apple. Rowan got a job at Truman since the head coach retired and since Rowan did lead the team to the State Championships, he was first on their list of candidates. Then there’s me … doing exactly what I always wanted: Assistant Director of Morning Light Hospice Center.

  I shouldn’t say always, more like when my life seemed like the end was closer than not. So many families are in need of that type of service, and there aren’t nearly enough people with compassion and patience to help the patients and their loved ones with that decision. Sure, I could’ve gone for my master’s and became a psychologist, or even used my bachelor’s to council … but I wanted this specific job.

  And now, it’s time for us to start the next chapter—forever!

  *****

  “I really need the last of those boxes unpacked if we’re gonna have room for any of Sheena’s stuff,” Rowan calls from the bedroom while I make a few meals to prep us for the week.

  I can’t imagine either of us be in the mood to cook after our first full week of adulting. And I’m trying to finish quickly. Sheena should be here soon—her final stop before she catches her flight to her new life.

  My heart’s heavy but also full of joy. Basically, I’m a shit show of emotion. I don’t have any memories without Sheena, and tomorrow, the next part of my life starts … without her. And hers without me. Senior year, we barely saw each other with our hectic schedules, but now, with this extreme change, there won’t even be the opportunity to see each other or find fake reasons to stay in and rewatch Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix. This is the end of our run.

  “I know, babe. I’ll be there in a few. I’m hoping she decides to take it with her or toss it in the dumpster,” I laugh. No way in hell she’s discarding anything she’s leaving here. The vast majority if her things are staying her parents’ house, but these few boxes … they’re all filled with stuff from high school she doesn’t want them knowing about.

  Like the letters she kept from Jansen—the disgustingly disturbing letters. She won’t admit it, but I know the girl better than she knows herself. She’s holding out hope he’ll stop fucking her friends, realize he loves her, and she’ll have these memories from when they started dating to talk about when they’re old and gray. Fat fucking chance.

  “Sooner rather than later, please, Charlie.”

  “Yeah,” I drawl, “I’ll be in there in five. Keep your pants on, pushy. Or take a shower and calm down. You’re awfully excited about unpacking.”

  No sooner than I finish the last dish, toss it in the fridge, and start walking to the bedroom to handle the boxes causing the crisis at hand, Sheena walks through the front door.

  “Knock much?” I say with a smile, which she returns. The sadness in her eyes evident, and if I were looking in a mirror, I’m positive mine would be similar. How do you say goodbye to someone you’ve had your whole life?

  “Oh my God, my parents are insane. Begged me a million times to stay. Literally begged me, Charlie. What’s that about? They’ve known for weeks I was leaving today. Why wait until I’m out the door to start the guilt trip?” she complains, but I know deep down she’s happy they love her enough to ask her to stay. And I also know that had they pushed a little harder, or if her mom had cried a little more, she would have given up her dream and never left … she’s that good of a person.

  “So what you’re saying is I should just be quiet then? ‘Cause I had a similar plan.” I didn’t. I couldn’t do that to her. Because, again, she would have stayed.

  “Do. Not. Start. With. Me.”

  “Fine,” I sigh. “I won’t. But you gotta come help me unpack these boxes before Rowan blows a gasket.”

  “Rowan? Angry? Four days of co-habitation and the honeymoon period’s already over? You’re not setting a good example for your terminally single best friend, Charlotte Thompson. Maybe I should stay. Work at The Gazette,” she teases, and I shake my head.

  “Don’t you dare,” I laugh. “Just help me. I’m sure he’s just nervous. Coaching his old team’s a big deal. They’re putting a lot of pressure on him to pull off what he did senior year.”

  “Alright, let’s do it. Exactly what I was hoping would happen when I came over. Nothing like getting sweaty with my girl before I board my plane.”

  We walk back to the bedroom, giggling about her comment, and when I open the door, Rowan scurries off the bed and onto the floor … on one knee.

  “Holy fuck,” Sheena whispers in shock. “Maybe I’ll just wait in the living room. Or outside. Or anywhere except here.” She starts to back out of the doorway when Rowan stops her.

  “No, please stay. Just move over a little. I’d like to see my girl if ya don’t mind.”

  “Uhhhh, if you’re sure?”

  “Absolutely sure. No more talking, ‘kay?”

  “Rowan, babe, what’s going on?” As I look around the room, I notice he’s taken every picture we have together out of the frames or albums and scattered them around—all over the bed, dresser, floor, window sill … literally everywhere.

  “Charlotte Antoinette Thompson, I love you more than words and they say a picture’s worth a thousand of them, and I need all the help I can get to show you exactly how much I love you.”

  “Holy shit, Charlie,” Sheena mutters again and nudges my arm, a giant grin plastered on her lips.

  “Ya gotta be quiet, Sheena,” Rowan demands, his eyes never leaving mine.

  “My bad. Keep going. But holy fucking shit.”

  “Sheena,” I snap, “shut it. Now. Please.”

  She makes a zipping-of-the-lips motion and scoots back to the wall, watching in awe right alongside me. This is a real holy shit moment if I’ve ever experienced one. She had that right.

  “Anyway,” Rowan continues, quickly side-eyeing Sheena before returning his gaze to me, “we’ve been through so much, Charlie. Some parts beautiful, others not so much, and a few just downright ugly. But with you it was always just right … perfect. We’ve … you’ve … experienced the worst, been to hell and back, and baby, I wanna give you the best. And with tens of thousands of words in this room, reminding you of how exceptional we are together, I want to ask you a very important question and I’m gonna need an answer quick … or I might explode.”

  I nod, unable to speak. There’s no possible way he’s going to ask me anything other than the obvious. As badly as I want to leap in his arms and accept, I have to let him finish … on the off chance he asks if I made spaghetti and then I look like a complete fool. There’s always another shoe.

  “Charlie.” He pulls a box—a small, black, velvet box—from the pocket of his jeans and cracks the lid, exposing a gorgeous, diamond solitaire ring. “Will you do me the extreme honor of allowing me to be your husband?”

  “Yes!” I scream, closing the gap between us in less than two seconds only to stop in front of my kneeling fiancé, my hand outstretched, waiting for him to put the ring on my finger … my very special, naked finger.

  “I swear on everything, Charlie, I’ll live every day of my life to make you happy and give you your heart’s desires. If you want it, I’ll make it happen. If I can’t, I’ll find someone who can. My life belongs to you.”

  He slips the band on my hand and I briefly forget Sheena’s here … until the blubbering mess starts blowing her nose on some tissue she found God knows where.

  “I’m so happy for you guys,” she cries. “I knew it from the second you met you’d last forever.” She wipes away the tears on her cheeks. “But Rowan, you could have asked me to leave. This is y’all’s moment. I feel like I intruded on something so special I had no business being a part of.”

  Rowan puts his arm around my shoulders and draws us closer together.

  “You and my fiancée have been ins
eparable since the day I met Charlie. The closest best friends the world’s ever seen. I did this on purpose, planned it accordingly. I knew you were coming over and wanted you to be in this room. With you leaving, Charlie’s not happy, and this is news you shouldn’t tell your person over the phone or video call—it’s something you should see in person. You’re a huge part of our lives, and we would want you to be a part of this memory since you’re in every other one.”

  Looking around at the pictures, I examine them further, and sure as hell, Sheena’s in more than three quarters of them.

  I look up at my fiancé with tears and a grin of my own.

  “You’re a rare breed, future husband. You’re my perfect.”

  Chapter 6

  The First Dance

  “You sure I don’t look like a peach in this dress?” Sheena whines, checking herself from all angles, back and front, in the floor-to-ceiling mirror.

  “No, Sheena, you look beautiful,” I sigh, repeating it for the millionth time, “but if you could take two seconds to remember this is, in fact, my day. Mine. I’m the bride. Let’s focus on me looking like a fucking snow storm. Less about you, more about me.”

  “Geez, Charlie, just punch me in the tit or something.” She runs over to my side, fluffing out the train and making sure the corset back is as tight as it should be—basically enough to make it appear I have more than a handful. “I’m being a shit maid of honor, aren’t I? I’m so sorry, babe. I’ll do better. Promise.”

  “Shit? No, not even a little. You got me in this dress, didn’t you?” I laugh. “But self-absorbed? Yeah, honey, you are, but I’d expect nothing less.” That last one earns me a playful slap to my ass, which is hiding under fifty pounds of lace, silk, and Bridezilla.

  “Do you need any water? Another swipe of mascara? Tequila? Getaway driver?”

  Oh, now she wants to do her job, I think to myself, jokingly of course. There isn’t a single person alive I’d want to stand with me on this day. We’ve had a deal since we were ten years old and planning our futures. She’d get me down the aisle, and I’d keep her inside her marriage, not running around outside of it. Seems pretty fair to me.

  “Water would be amazing. The tequila from last night’s screwing with my mouth. It’s so damn dry, I could drink a gallon and not have enough. What’s my damn problem?”

  Regardless of my protests, I didn’t want a bachelorette party the night before my wedding, but between Sheena’s work schedule and how fast the wedding came together, she could only fly in for this weekend. I can tell you one thing; as happy as I’ll be when I’m finally Rowan’s wife, it’s also the same day I have to say goodbye to my best friend until the next time we can squeeze in a visit. Bittersweet, to say the least.

  “We can start with the obvious … you’re getting married. Seems like a valid reason to be nervous and, oh yeah, the fact you have Cuervo coming out of your pores … that’s probably a thing, too.”

  I would have bet money working in the professional industry like a real grownup would have tempered Sheena’s feisty, but I was wrong—so very wrong. She pulled out her A game for today.

  “I smell? Like booze? Oh my God, Sheena. I can’t get married smelling like a distillery!”

  I’m not nervous, that’s insane. Not even in the realm of possibility. I’ve been waiting for this day since the day I met Rowan. Within the hour, I’m walking down the aisle, promising the only man I’ve ever loved to keep doing that for the rest of my life forever. There’s no doubt—no second-guessing—in my heart. This is exactly what I want.

  What I do not want, however, is to have Rowan’s memories of this day tainted because his bride reeks like a bar.

  “You don’t stink, dude. I’m just messing with you, trying to get your head out of the crazy. Work?”

  “No!” I yell, probably louder than I should have. “You do not tell the bride she basically bathed in tequila before she’s about to make the biggest promise she’s ever going to make. Christ, Sheena.”

  “See? Nerves. I was right. You don’t snap at me like that. Not in the billion years we’ve been friends.”

  Miss Know-It-All could possibly have a point.

  “Okay, maybe,” I sigh. I can’t discount her opinion since I don’t have one to replace it with, but still, it’s a rough pill to swallow, letting her think she might, possibly, kinda, in a way, be right.

  “Just breathe. It won’t be too much longer and you’ll be Mrs. Rowan Thorne. And the nerves, sugar … I didn’t mean about the getting married, I meant the wait to get there. Since when aren’t we on the same page?”

  “Or,” I drawl, “will he be Mr. Charlotte Thompson?” I joke, trying to ease the tension. She’s right. Since graduation, we’ve been off—not the same old Chareena we’ve been for decades.

  “Both sound amazing, but I kinda dig the traditional route,” she laughs, and I flip around to stare at her.

  “Since when?”

  “Since now, I guess.” She shrugs, and I can’t handle this debate right now, so she wins … again.

  “Alright. Plain and traditional we are,” I agree.

  “Who is it?” Sheena asks as a knock on the door sounds, pulling our attention. Rowan better not be trying to get a sneak peek.

  “Me.”

  Rowan!

  “Nope. Go away. Bad luck. Don’t make me call security,” Sheena spouts off, nearly blowing a gasket.

  But hey, kudos to me … I knew it was him without having actual proof. Just another reason he’s the one for me—I know where he is even when he’s sneaking.

  “We have security?” I ask on a whisper.

  “No, but it sounded legit, right?”

  “I can’t with you. Move out of the way so I can touch my man.” I try to move past her and am body-blocked by the girl in the peachy dress. I may be in this gown, but I might throw down. Twenty-four hours since I’ve laid eyes on Rowan—yeah, I’m a fiend and need a fix.

  “Absolutely not!” she yells, spreading her arms wide to keep me from getting to the door. “Not all of us get a fairy-tale, dream-come-true wedding, Charlotte. And while I don’t believe in luck per se, on the off chance it’s real, you’re not fucking it up. So back that ass up or I’ll hurt you. Physically. Maybe.”

  “If you’d shut your trap for a minute, you’d realize I just want to touch my girl, not see her.” You tell her, baby. “And I promised my mom I’d never hit a girl, but I will kick this damn door open if you threaten my bride one more time, best friend or not. Move it, Sheena. Now.”

  Sheena complies, stepping to the side, hands in the air. The door cracks open a few inches, and as I give Sheena a snide look, I mentally count the hours until we can leave the reception and I can screw the hell out of my authoritative husband, because fuck me, that was hot as hell.

  “Don’t look at her, Thorne. I’d hate to ruin my girl’s wedding day.” And there we go, Sheena staking her claim. I laugh at both of them and put my back against the wooden door.

  “Deal,” he chuckles, the mood lightened. “Charlie, baby? You there, or did ya run for the hills?”

  “No, honey, I’m right here. I miss you. It’s been a while since I haven’t seen you this long,” I whine, resting my head back and closing my eyes.

  “Twenty-four-fucking-hours,” Sheena grumbles under her breath, catching a sideways glance from me.

  “Take my hand.” He reaches around toward me, hand outstretched, seeking mine. Quickly, before Sheena interjects again, I entwine our fingers, my body already ablaze from the simplest, most innocent touch.

  “Do you have any reservations?”

  “Not a single one. You? I’m a lot to handle, so if you think you can find a girl with less baggage, and a best friend who’s not so damn violent, I’ll understand.” No, I will not. But that’s what you say, right? Even when it’s a blatant lie?

  “Baby,” he laughs, “told you a long time ago you were it for me. I don’t make a habit of going around telling super-hot chicks things
I don’t mean.”

  “Are you nervous?” I ask softly, not sure if I want the truth.

  “Maybe a little, but not enough to cast any doubt. And mostly because I’m worried I won’t be the best husband. You have a crazy best friend and I threatened to hurt her. I think we’re in a tie for Lunatic of the Year. You?”

  “Same. I’m scared I’ll say something dumb, or stutter, or fall.” Okay, Sheena had the emotion right.

  “You’ll be perfect. Our kind of perfect. You only have to say ‘I do’ clearly and kick off those damn shoes. It’s you I want, Charlie, not all the frills. You’re what matters.”

  “God, I love you,” I happily sigh, completely and honestly comforted and so in love.

  “Never as much as I love you.”

  “You two make me sick to my stomach. Can you save it for the vows and shit? If I puke and fuck up my lipstick …” Sheena growls, and I roll my eyes.

  “Self-absorbed, that one,” Rowan whispers, and I grin. I don’t think two people could ever complement each other the way Rowan and I do.

  “Only a lot a bit. Now go, I gotta finish getting ready. I’ll meet you out there.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll be the guy next to the minister watching his wildest dreams come true. That is, if your dad doesn’t have me offed before you get out there.”

  I sigh again, enamored by his romanticism, and Sheena gags. All’s right in the world.

  After Rowan leaves, my dad walks through the door without knocking, and “The Wedding March” begins to play.

  “Here goes nothing,” I whisper to nobody in particular, but both Sheena and my dad nod.

  “Wow,” my dad says in a hushed tone, tears on the brim of his lids ready to spill over at any moment. “Never in all my life have I seen a more beautiful bride. I thought I’d never see anything more perfect than the night the doctor put you in my arms, bundled up in a little pink blanket. You smelled like heaven, I remember that part. Now, look at you. A woman.”