Crushed (Crystal Brook Billionaires) (29 page)

I’d said as much to him more than once before. There was no point in repeating it all, so I said the simplest and most cordial thing my fevered mind could think of.

“See you tomorrow.”

He turned to go. When his foot hit the last step, I had to say something else, had to mention the one last thing that was on my mind. “Owen.”

He spun around. “Yeah?”

“When your mom came to visit… did you talk any more about the vineyard?”

He raised his hand up to run it along the back of his head. “Yeah, we did.”

“Do you… do you think you’ll go?”

I had no right to ask. I knew that. Especially since I’d just turned him down yet again. I couldn’t seem to keep the words back though.

Owen sighed. “I told them I don’t know, but I used to think it was more likely that I would stay here.”

Used to.

“And now?”

The longest breath stretched out between us, turning into a sad and painful sigh.

“Goodnight, Claire,” he murmured before going.

Owen

I
finished with my tie and gazed into the mirror on the back of the bathroom door. The bathroom door Claire and I had knocked down, which was only a few feet away from the downstairs bedroom…

The room I couldn’t sleep in without thinking of her.

Actually, for the two weeks after she’d fled the house that night, I didn’t sleep in that room. Eventually, I’d gone back to it just for convenience sake, but being in there never felt quite right. It felt soiled, sad.

And now here I was, going to her sister’s wedding. Getting ready to be witness to a proclamation of love.

It was a hard thing to do when your own proclamation of love hadn’t gone so well.

I’d told her she didn’t have to say those words back. Really, I hadn’t expected her to.

But I
wanted
her to. Damn, I wanted her to so bad.

I just hadn’t been able to stop myself. I’d pushed it. I’d pushed her, all against my better judgment, and ended up in a hole so deep there was no way I’d ever climb out. Things would never be like they could have been. We wouldn’t be able to be friends, respecting and caring for each other but always keeping a careful distance. Too many lines had been crossed.

When she kissed me the night before, and I responded by taking her in my arms, I’d almost been able to convince myself things would be fine. She loved me too. She just couldn’t say it. So she showed me with her mouth, with her touch.

I’d only been able to fake myself out for a minute or two. No, I’d realized. That’s not the way it was. I was lying to myself. Claire didn’t love me because she wasn’t ready to love anyone.

I snorted at the thought. It was ironic that I’d had sex with people I didn’t love before with no problem, but faced with someone I’d truly fallen for, I couldn’t do it.

If I could have gone back in time, I would. I would have never let my feelings get the best of me, would have never told Claire the truth about what was going on inside of me.

Maybe I would never have talked to her at all. I would never have gone up to that house looking for that missing cat. I would never have stumbled into a situation too big and complex for me to handle.

My eyes fell shut. Try as hard as I could, there was nothing that could dull the pain. It was still there, pulsing behind my eyeballs, swimming in my veins, a living and breathing part of me.

When I woke up that morning, everything seemed different. I was different. My feelings for Claire hadn’t changed, nor had the tugging sensation that I needed to stay close to her.

But my trust had changed. During the night, it had waned. I woke up believing less in it than ever before. So what if I had gut feelings about something? What good were those feelings if they only led me to pain?

Moving to California suddenly looked better than it ever had before.

Nothing was set in stone, of course, but as I stood there thinking about the events of the last year, the appeal of leaving Crystal Brook behind got better and better. Yeah, I’d made friends there. I’d bought a house — one I was halfway done renovating and that, once finished, would be fit for a king.

But the real reason I’d stayed was Claire. I’d come there on a random week and ending up returning all because of her.

I couldn’t keep doing that. I couldn’t keep following a sense that things were meant to be some way. Especially when reality reflected something entirely different.

Gritting my teeth, I turned from the mirror to grab my wallet. Parking would likely be past capacity, and I needed to walk to clear my mind anyway. Plus, the October air was perfect for a stroll.

Leaves crunched under my feet in the front yard and skittered ahead of me on the sidewalk. The light had that beautiful crystal quality it seems to only possess in the fall. I took my time, trying not to think too much about what waited for me at the end of my walk.

As suspected, Gwen’s street was packed with cars. I skirted around the edge and into the back yard, following the sign welcoming guests.

The whole yard danced with white fabrics and shades of orange. Cocktail tables had been set up along one side, candles flickering in the late afternoon light. Dozens of strings of clear lights stretched across the yard and in the trees, barely glowing at the moment but promising a show once sunset came. The long dining tables rested in the very back of the yard, orange roses in their centers. Near them sat the wedding arch, a rustic looking one made from sticks and leaves. Orange, yellow, and red mums dotted the yard, pressing up against the makeshift bar and sitting at the end of each row of white folding chairs facing the arch.

A few dozen people milled about, some sitting in folding chairs and some chatting around cocktail tables or the house. I did a second sweep of the crowd, but Claire was nowhere in sight. Some of the curtains of the house’s first and second floors were spread open, but no one was visible through the glass. Most likely, Claire was inside somewhere helping Gwen get ready.

Not for the first time, I had second thoughts about attending the wedding after all. Just the thought of seeing Claire was painful.

I needed a drink. Badly.

Skirting around a group of people, I bee-lined for the bar. The young man there finished pouring a glass of red wine and handed it to a woman. When he saw me, he nodded in my direction.

“Just a beer,” I told him. “Thanks.”

“That sounds good,” a female voice said.

Out of nowhere, a brunette girl appeared next to me. She barely came up to my shoulder, but she wore a spunky grin and a golden cocktail dress that sparkled in the sun. “I’ll take one as well,” she told the bartender.

“Sure thing,” he replied, passing them to us.

“Cheers.” She raised her glass and looked my way. I mimicked her action, and she knocked our glasses together. “This is my first week being able to legally drink,” she announced.

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” She took a good sip. “Hey, this isn’t so bad.”

My eyebrows shot up. “You’ve never had beer?”

She shook her head. “No. I thought it would be sweeter, but it’s still all right.”

“Really, you’ve never once even tasted…” A mischievous sparkle entered her eyes, and I stopped. “Oh.”

She giggled. “Yeah, I was just kidding. Not about the turning twenty-one part, but about the never having drank before part.” She took another sip. “So whose side are you on? The bride or the groom’s?”

“Ah, the bride.”

“Oh.” She nodded. “Cool.”

I darted my eyes towards the house. I couldn’t help it. Claire might be coming out any minute.

Someone else came up to the bar, and the brunette girl and I scooted over to stand near a couple bales of hay.

“You?” I asked, only because I was already in the conversation and couldn’t get out of it. The girl was extremely cute, but I was in too dour of a mood to fully engage anyone. The most I felt like managing was short questions and answers.

“I came here with my cousin,” she explained. “He works at Gwen’s shop.” She made a face. “Is that lame? Going to a wedding with your cousin?”

Unexpectedly, I laughed. “No. It’s not. Don’t worry.”

“Okay. Good.” She cocked her head. “So how do you know Gwen?”

“Just from around. I bought a house here this summer.”

“Where are you from?”

“New York.”

That was the quick answer I gave people when I didn’t feel like explaining I’d basically grown up all over the place.

Out of the corner of my eye, more people arrived around the side of the house. So far I’d seen no one I knew other than Claire’s family, sans her mother — which was too bad because she was extremely friendly and easy to talk to.

But on second thought, so was the person in front of me.

“I’m Owen,” I said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t introduce myself before.”

“That’s all right. Georgie.”

“That’s adorable,” I said without thinking.

Her eyes rolled. “Thanks.”

I laughed. “You don’t like it?”

“It’s growing on me.”

“After twenty-one years?”

“Yep. It wasn’t the best name to have in elementary school. You ever heard of Georgie Porgie?”

“The nursery rhyme?”

“Exactly.”

“Ah. Got it. Well, luckily you’re twenty-one now, which means any time someone makes fun of your name you can just drink the pain away.”

“Thank God for that!”

She raised her glass again, and I knocked the side of it with my own.

“God, this house is beautiful,” she sighed. “I love the sun room.”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “It’s nice. I’ve been thinking about adding one to my house.”

“Really? Cool.”

“Yeah, there’s enough room there. I just have to figure out a few things first. I want it to be all glass, I think.”

“You haven’t looked at, you know, models yet?”

“No, but I may just wing it.”

Her eyes went wide. “You’re going to build it yourself?”

I nodded. “I’ve been renovating the place all summer.”

“Wow,” she breathed. “That’s awesome.”

I studied her face, trying to gauge the authenticity in her words. Best I could tell, she was genuinely interested in hearing about my house.

“I don’t know anything about that,” Georgie went on. “I’m no good with my hands.”

“What are you good at?”

She got slightly sheepish, which made her even cuter. “Music, I guess. I play a few different instruments.”

“What’s your favorite?”

“Guitar. It’s easier to carry around than a piano or a cello.”

“I bet.”

Over half of the crowd had settled down in the folding chairs and the other half looked close to doing the same.

“It looks like things are getting started soon,” I commented.

“Yeah… are you sitting with anyone?”

“No, I came by myself.”

“Oh, well, I’m sitting right over there.” She pointed at a black shawl draped over a chair in one of the middle rows. “Would you like to join Matt and me? That’s my cousin.”

On cue, a guy around her own age settled down in the spot she was pointing at.

I hesitated, though I didn’t know why. Georgie’s invitation was nothing more than an offer to sit next to her. But I got the sense it could easily be more. She was attractive and fun. I could invite her to see the work I’d been doing on the house. Maybe we could hang out some more after that.

It was a terrifying thought… and yet I knew it to be right.

I couldn’t wait around for Claire. Not after the night before. She had her demons to contend with, and I was quickly evolving into one of them. A burden. That’s what I likely was. An annoying pest following her around, professing his love for her when that was the last thing she needed to hear.

With a girl like Georgie, things would be easier. Lighter. Fun.

I was tired of following my heart. All it took me to was places that kicked its ass.

“Sure,” I told Georgie. “That sounds great. Thank you.”

I followed her to the chairs.

“Matt,” she said to her cousin, “This is Owen.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I said.

He nodded. “You too.”

I waited for Georgie to get settled and then took the vacant aisle seat. Almost everyone was seated. Light classical music began, coming from the front where a woman sat plucking a guitar.

No more Claire. Could I really do it?

I knew I could. Not because I wanted to, but because it was best for me and it was best for her. We’d caused each other so much pain, and all because I’d gotten carried away with my emotions.

Next time I had an inkling, a sense that something needed to be a certain way, I would question it. I would stop and think things through. Doing it any other way would only lead to more chaos.

The music continued, and the groom ambled up to the front, looking very serious in a black suit. I sucked in a breath and tried not to clutch the sides of my chair. Any minute and the women would be coming down the aisle. Everyone’s eyes would be on the bride… except for mine.

I would be looking right at Claire. Knowing that it was time to get over her didn’t make any difference. She would still command all of my attention.

But it would be for the last time. Because I was letting her go. I was releasing her so she could find whatever it was she needed to in order to be happy.

I love you, Claire. That’s what I told her.

It was time to show her I meant it.

Claire

I
stood back, pressed against the wall, the flurry of activity becoming too much to handle.

“Close your eyes,” the hairstylist told Gwen before giving her updo one last good spray. The thick perfume of the hairspray filled the room, and I coughed.

Mom entered the room, nearly bumping into Kieran, who was busy taking pictures of her and Becca in their lavender bridesmaids’ dresses.

“Everything’s ready downstairs,” Mom announced. “How’s it going up here?”

Gwen let out a little moan.

“Oh, it’s all right, honey.” Mom went to her and reassuringly rubbed her back.