THE JUNIOR BRIDESMAID (25 page)

Since I was still
embracing her, I gave her a gentle squeeze while a genuine smile instantly
appeared on my face.

Since my
belongings hadn’t arrived that day there was little danger of embarrassing
Julia with any of my ‘big’ outfits anyway. So I let her go and stared her in
the eyes. “No worries there. I’ll have to borrow something. My stuff didn’t
arrive today like it was supposed to.” I let her go and turned to head down the
hallway. “They hit some sort of bad weather and won’t arrive till tomorrow.” I
timed the last morsel of information with closing the bathroom door. I needed
to rejuvenate and the best way to do that was with a nice hot shower.

As I turned on the
shower I could hear Julia through the door. “You should have just told them to
turn around,” she suggested. “Saved yourself some miles.”

“Huh,” my
shoulders fell.

Why hadn’t I
thought of that?

Chapter 21

“Holy shit. I
can’t feel my lips,” Julia laughed gutturally through her confession. She was
pressing the tips of her fingers of her left hand into her upper lip and then
releasing it quickly. Needless to say, she was totally wasted. We had parked
our bottoms on a barstool three hours ago and had only left our post to use the
bathroom. Julia was steadily drinking Vodka and Lime on the rocks. I was
sticking with my tequila. I was definitely tipsy but Julia was three complete
sheets.

“Wait,” I said
randomly. It wasn’t like Julia was making a hasty getaway. Nor had she started
to tell me something that needed clarification. But since Julia was as
inebriated as I was, she waited listening intently for what I wasn’t exactly
sure.

Then she got tired
of waiting and leaned into me expectantly. “I think I’ve waited long enough,”
she whispered conspiratorially. Then she slid off of her bar stool and
staggered down a few feet. I watched her with rapt attention as she stopped in
front of two guys with whom we had gone to high school. I hadn’t seen them in
years but I remembered the one who was sitting farther away pretty well. He was
cute and funny. And, if memory served, had had quite a crush on Julia in high
school. She never so much as gave him the time of day. However, as soon as we
stepped inside the bar he had his eyes trained on her and not very discreetly.
So when Julia approached him, he spun around on his stool to face her.

“Sup, Jules?” he
asked with this ridiculously sexy voice. My eyebrows went up with his question.
He was asking way more than what was up with her.

Speaking a little
more boisterously than her usual (which was normally pretty loud) Julia began
to explain to the devilishly handsome guy, Mason, what exactly was going to be
up. It was like the Anti-Julia.

“I think that I
have waited long enough, Mason. Are you ready to take me home?” she asked
seductively. She leaned forward until her chest hit his and then harshly
planted her lips so hard on his I could actually hear him wince his pain
audibly. My eyes shot open the size of dinner plates. Mason was clearly taken
aback and not just physically. His arms froze mid air as Julia worked him over
like a professional. Her body wiggled left and right. Her hair flung from side
to side. It was impressive that Mason was able to stay on his barstool. Once I
saw Mason’s free hand snake around her back and tug her in tighter, which
seemed nearly impossible, I knew I was on my own for the rest of the night.
Just as well. I had to get packing. I hopped off of my stool and approached
Julia and Mason.

I tapped Julia on
the shoulder and held out my hand. Without removing her lips from his she
dropped her car keys in my palm. “Wow,” I stated completely impressed. Then I
tapped Mason on the shoulder and addressed him. “Don’t wake me up when you two
get home.”

I heard a faint,
‘Mmhm’ acknowledging my demands and then I turned to leave. Good for Julia.
Mason was a good guy and he had loved her for as long as I could remember.
Maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t fuck it up.

            By
10 o’clock the next morning I was immensely grateful for two things- coffee and
Julia’s stackable washer and dryer. I washed all of the clothes that I had
lugged in my carry-on, folded, and balanced them on top of the dresser in
Julia’s spare bedroom. I laid out all of my belongings so as not to forget to
pack them and made a list of any last details that needed to be taken care of
before I left. Feeling somewhat accomplished in my endeavors of getting
organized, I decided it was time to reward myself with a second cup of coffee.
I made my way to Julia’s kitchen and started washing out the pot. Only seconds
had past when I heard the handle of Julia’s bedroom door squeak. I peered
through the little kitchen window to see who might be heading my way and saw
Mason exiting her room. I watched as he blew her a kiss from the doorway and
backed out of her room closing the door. His shirt was unbuttoned and
un-tucked, his hair was a mess and he looked quite pleased with himself. I
couldn’t help the smirk that took control of my mouth. Mason came toward me so
he could say good morning. The first thing he noticed was the look on my face.

            “What
are you lookin’ at, Delilah?” he teased.

            I
shook my head before I answered while the corners of my mouth tipped down.
“Nothin’,” I said quite unconvincingly.

            “Don’t
be givin’ me that look. For ten years I was under the impression she hated me.”

            “Understandable.
Whether it is intentional or not, I’m not sure. But she does give people that
impression, doesn’t she?” I smiled knowingly.

            Mason
smiled back. “Yeah. I guess she does,” he dipped his chin and shuffled his feet
trying to hide his infatuation. When he looked up we both smiled wider for a
brief second then he soldiered on. “She said you were leavin.’ That true?” he
asked.

            “Wow.
Pillow talk to boot?” I skirted.

            “Just
a little,” he confessed.

            “It’s
true. I’m heading back tomorrow,” I shared.

            “She’s
going to miss you, ya know,” his smile faded outlining his honesty. I knew
Julia was going to miss me. To the extent that she would share it with Mason
during a one-night stand of torrid sex, however, was surprising. I was going to
miss her too. But before I could share that morsel of information, Mason cut
in. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep her occupied.” Then a devious smile appeared on his
face.

            “You
better take care of her, you hear?” I informed with my southern accent.

            Mason
just nodded once. But I had little reservations concerning his feelings for
her. And, conversely, the fact that Julia let him in at all spoke volumes for
her feelings about him. Drunk or sober.

            “I
have to go,” he gestured toward the door.

            I
nodded my understanding. “Bye, Mason.”

            “Goodbye,
Delilah,” he answered with a smile on his handsome face.

            As
soon as Mason left I finished brewing a fresh pot of coffee. That was when I
heard the pipes in the bathroom rattling like thunder. Her geriatric plumbing
system alerted me to the fact that Julia was up and functioning. As she
staggered down the hall holding her head I remembered that she had had a few
too many the night before.

            She
walked into her little kitchen where I was resting a hip into the counter.

            “Coffee?”
I asked.

            “In
a second. Can you reach behind you in that cabinet,” she pointed with her eyes
closed. “I need a pain reliever,” she confessed.

            I
turned immediately to retrieve the medicine and took a glass from the cupboard.
I filled it with water and turned to give it to her. She had her palms pressed
up against her forehead. Her fingers stretched as far back as she could reach.
It looked like she was squeezing. “That can’t feel good, Jules.”

            “Surprisingly,
it does,” she answered on a whisper.

            “Here,”
I reached out to her with my palm opened flat, facing up.

            She
scrounged for the pill in my hand as if the pill was performing evasive
maneuvering trying to avoid ingestion. Once she finally corralled it, she
carefully placed it on her tongue. Her eyes hung closed as if her lids were too
heavy to lift as she washed the pain reliever down in one acrid gulp.

“Why do I do that
to myself?” she asked as if I had the answer. Her faced looked pained and I
wasn’t sure if it was from the hangover, the pill, or Mason’s company.

            “I
guess you don’t know when enough is enough,” I answered logically taking a stab
at the answer that made the most sense.

            “I
meant Mason.”

            I
wasn’t actually sure what she meant. “What do you mean? What about Mason?”

            She
exhaled heavily before she clarified squeezing her eyes closed harder. “Why do
I start things when I know I am only going to hurt myself in the end?”

            “Jules.
I’m still not following.” Figuring it was time to get some caffeine into her
body, I opened the cupboard and started the process of finding her favorite
mug. “Mason adores you,” I gingerly closed the cupboard. “He has for a very
long time. As far as I am concerned you should have started it with him a long
time ago,” I shared my unsolicited opinion facing her once again.

            “Oh,
please, Delilah. Mason is just like every other guy out there. He got what he
wanted. Now he will never call again,” her hands found her face again and the
tips of her fingers began to intensely massage her own forehead. “You forget
the cow story your mother shared with us on more than one occasion?” She asked.
Obviously my mother had shared her sage advice with more than just me.

            “Julia,
not all guys are after one thing. Mason’s a good guy. He’ll call. You’ll see.”
I turned toward the coffee pot and grabbed the carafe.

            “I
don’t know, Dee. I made that mistake once before,” she confessed. “And it never
worked in my favor.”

            My
body stilled mid-pour. “You slept with Mason before?” I couldn’t help the shock
that accompanied my tone.

            “Not
Mason.” When I turned my head to look at her, her hands fell away from her
face. Her eyes fluttered opened and found mine. She looked remorseful,
repentant, guilty and awfully sorry.

An instant pit
formed in my stomach. Not Mason. I felt my heart begin to flutter a funky beat.
And then a warning siren started screaming in my head. My breathing became
shallow and I started salivating inexplicably. I felt my face pale and I began
to have flashbacks of Stacey and Carson in the closet. “Julia,” I began still
clutching the coffee pot. I had a terrifying feeling that I knew where her
confession was going.

            “Delilah
Jean, I did not sleep with Hugh Rowen. Wipe that look off of your face right
this second.” She scolded me for my invading thoughts.

            I
felt the rush of air leave my lungs with the adrenalin that had built up from
my visions of betrayal. I lowered the coffee pot to the counter harder than I
had planned but luckily it didn’t shatter. I had suffered the blow of betrayal
once before and had no desire to relive it ever again. I couldn’t handle
hearing that Julia had slept with Hugh. Thank God I had wrongfully jumped to
conclusions. “Then who?” I asked.

            “Ryan,”
she confessed.

            My
jaw instantaneously dropped two inches. My eyes fluttered uncontrollably in
disbelief and I started to shake my head. Once my facial features recovered
from the shock of her confession, I just had to clarify. “Ryan, Hugh’s
brother?”

Julia just nodded
her response.

“Ryan,” I
repeated. “The Ryan married to Darcy. That Ryan.”

Julia nodded again.

“When did you
sleep with Ryan?” I asked with sourness in my tone. What I should have asked
was what Julia was thinking when she slept with Ryan. As much as I despised
Darcy, I found it hard to believe that Julia would have slept with Ryan knowing
he was married. And even if that moral high ground was surmountable, which
apparently it was, frankly, he didn’t seem her type.

            “You
can’t say anything,” she informed instead of answering my question.

            “Julia.
I would never say anything to anyone.”

            “Not
even Hugh,” she further insisted.

            Damn.
Now she was asking a lot. “Fine,” I answered not very convincingly.

“Cross your heart
with your friendship ring finger?” Julia began.

“Oh, is that back
in full effect now?” I responded instantaneously. I watched as Julia rolled her
eyes in response and then I continued. “Fine,” my finger reflexively went to my
chest so I could cross it over my heart. “Julia, when did you sleep with Ryan?”

            “Three
years ago. New Year’s,” she paused as she used her pointer finger bouncing it
around in midair trying to visualize the proper title for that evening. “Day
Night? Is that how you say it?”

I just shrugged.
Who cared what night it was or what the proper name for it would be.

“Everyone in town
was partied out from New Years Eve and I was at Preacher’s trying to get the
jump on the coming year’s gossip. Ryan was working the bar. Apparently he
couldn’t find anyone to fill in that night. Everyone was hung over. He and I
were the only ones in the entire place. We got to talking. One thing led to
another,” she shrugged. “We ended up back at my place.”

           Since
I had recovered from the initial trauma that Julia had not slept with Hugh in
my absence, I turned back to the coffee pot to pour some into her cup. “You
haven’t had sex in three years?” I asked with disbelief. Of course I honed in
on the superfluous information that she shared. But in all seriousness it was
hard to believe. Julia was what most men might consider a piece of ass. Pretty,
delicate, blond, but could tear you a brand new rectum at any given moment.