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some hours earlier
"Edward, do you even care?"
Do I?
Fuck no.
"I care, Ang," I say, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and kissing the side of her head. "It's your big day. You decide."
Holy fuck, this shit is killing me.
We've been sitting and planning this wedding for hours with Mallory. I'm not even sure what my purpose is. Why the fuck am I even here? I don't give one shit about lilies or roses or goddamn baby's breath. I don't even know what a baby's breath is!
Not to be a dick, but who cares which flowers grace the tables. Who gives a shit which flowers Angela carries down the aisle - which goddamn flowers the flower girls will toss.
I hate flowers.
They fucking die.
"I'll be back," I say, patting Angela's shoulder as I stand up. She glares at me over her shoulder, but I pretend I don't notice, tossing a smile at Mallory, which I knew was a mistake before it fully reached my mouth. She takes it for something it's not, and while she's hot, I'm not into wedding planners.
Plus, I'm taken.
Right?
Right.
I weave through tables full of giddy women drinking their problems away at noon on a Sunday, and isn't that just the saddest shit I've ever seen.
Stepping outside, I breathe deeply, taking in a bit of fresh air, and well, pollution, I'm sure, but I'll take this shit over that fuck show inside.
Walking across the street, I pull out a cigarette, my fingers shaking as I light it up. I hate cigarettes. I hate the smell of smoke, but damn, that initial inhale does wonders in calming my shit.
Wedding planning is a nightmare. I definitely did not think this shit through.
It all started with my shoes being untied, and Angela mistaking it for a proposal. I didn't have the heart to tell her that my shoes kept tripping me up, and I wasn't looking to break my goddamn neck at the top of the Space Needle on our trip to Seattle. I didn't even have a ring. She thought the spontaneity was more romantic anyway.
I love her, though. I do. I can handle getting married. I can. Right?
Right.
"Naya, no! Leave the puppy alone!"
A small girl is dragging a big ass puppy across the grass - just dragging the poor bastard by the collar like it's a stuffed teddy bear. He's not giving her any shit for it, so he must be used to that kind of treatment. Although, his eyes are closed, so maybe she's choking him out, and he can't breathe. Maybe he thinks it'd be better on the other side.
Fuck, if we aren't both having the same problem right now.
"My puppy," the little one says, looking over her shoulder.
"She's all of ours, Naya. Give her here. Harriet says you're too far away."
Naya lifts her head and waves like a maniac toward the other end of the park. "Hi, Hawiette."
The other girl huffs in irritation and throws her hands up before shouting, "She's not listening!" Then she glares at Naya. "I'm telling on you when we get home."
Naya ignores her and plops down on the grass, cuddling the puppy roughly. Someone's gotta teach that kid some tender, love, and care. The other one falls down next to her, letting Naya win, and scratches the poor guy's head.
Who are these kids anyway, and why is Harriet letting them wander so far away?
And, that's my cue to leave before I start looking like a predator waiting for its prey.
Standing, I toss the end of my cigarette into the trash bin and shuffle slowly back toward Angela, flowers, and a wedding planner who's itching to suck my cock.
Where's the goddamn professionalism?
By the time I've taken my place next to Angela, she's forgiven me, but it's short lived when she finds out I'm going out with Emmett tonight.
"I don't trust him," she snarls, glancing at Mallory before lowering her voice. "He's a bad influence, sweetie."
"You don't trust me? It's just dinner."
Emmett is a bad influence, but I'm not easily influenced. She has nothing to worry about. She's the one with my ring on her finger.
"It's not a good idea."
"It's fine," I say, running a finger down the side of her neck.
Mallory stands to leave, saying her goodbyes to Angela. I ignore her attempts to get my attention wearing that dress. Looking never hurt anybody, but Mallory is desperate, and I don't like desperate girls.
Plus, Angela's my girl.
She's mad at me the entire ride home. She doesn't even let me join her in the shower. It's almost enough to make me cancel on Emmett, but when she throws on her grandma's old nightgown and tells me to bring her something back, I kiss her cheek and head out.
"Holy fuck," I say, looking out the truck window. "I told Ang we were going out for burgers."
I've heard about this place.
The secrets that stay locked in here.
It's dark and gloomy, nothing like the yellow and neon signs Angela was expecting. She asked me to bring her something back - to surprise her.
Holy fuck.
Emmett laughs a distrustful laugh, and I know his intentions are bad. So bad. Angela is going to have my balls if she finds out about this.
"Come on," he says, opening his door and hopping out. "It's just a few drinks. No big deal."
That big, dopey smirk says otherwise.
I follow him out, scanning the shady as fuck place. I'm not a bitch, but I am kind of afraid for my virtue.
I'm an engaged man.
I can't go in there and expect to come out the same person I went in as. There's no way. This is the place of dirty dreams and wicked nightmares.
Once you go in, you never come back out.
This place can't be legal. It can't be.
"Just one drink," I say. "That's all."
But, do I mean it?
Yes.
Right?
Right.
The big, burly fucker at the door grins at Emmett, and I just know that sneaky fuck is a regular here.
Emmett throws me a smirk over his shoulder before stepping inside. I'm rooted to the spot - for all of two seconds until I'm following him inside. Curiosity never really killed the cat, did it?
"Fuck, I'm a dead man," I breathe, and Emmett chuckles, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.
"Let's get a drink."
He steers us toward the bar, and it takes everything in me not to eye fuck the half-naked chicks crawling all over the place.
I'm better than that.
Emmett gets us drinks, and I grab a cigarette, lighting up as I grab a stool. The place is teeming with men ready to get their fix - old and even older guys plastered to bombshells' sides, grabbing ass and sucking tits, and I'm not all that into watching old men get their dicks sucked, but I've gotta say, my own cock is getting a thrill out of the sexual indiscretions.
"Emmy!" Some chick squeals, and I nearly burn a hole into my favorite shirt when she jumps into his arms and sucks his face off.
He grabs her ass, squeezing roughly, and blindly hands me his drink with his other hand.
Goddamn.
He comes up for air, glances past my shoulder and winks before carrying the chick through the crowd. He disappears out of sight and leaves me to drink alone.
"He's her favorite."
Slowly turning my head, I come face to face with the girl who's gonna lead me to ruin.
Fuck, I hope it hurts.
"Hey," I say, lamely, putting my cigarette out.
She's not wearing a top, and I don't want to stare, but I really want to fucking stare because not only is her face gorgeous, her tits are perfection.
Fucking sweet.
"Hi," she says, smiling like she's innocent - like she's not here to smash me to pieces. "I know your friend. He said you'd be here tonight."
"Did he now?"
The rat bastard.
She nods and steps closer, her tit brushing my arm, and I'm about to lose my shit. Shifting, I turn to face her. Mistake. Big mistake. She steps between my legs, her hands landing on my thighs, and holy fuck. "You're cute," she says.
"Puppies are cute," I say, gulping down air - counting to ten in my head, so my dick doesn't just explode in my pants.
She smiles and nods again. "Are you going to drink that?" She tilts her head toward the glass I'm holding in a death grip.
"Yeah," I say, lifting it to my lips, glad my hands aren't shaking.
I drain it.
I hate it.
But, I kind of love it.
"What's your name?" She asks, slowly sliding her hands up and down my thighs.
I widen my legs, giving her more room, because I'm nice like that.
My empty glass is swapped out for a full one, and I take a healthy swig before placing it down. "I don't know if I should say."
"Is it a secret?" She asks, smiling like a goddamn angel.
"Maybe."
"I'm Bee."
My second drink is gone, and after I swallow that last of it, I say, "You can call me E."
She steps even closer, cradled between my thighs. She's so small and fucking pretty, and it shouldn't matter. I should push her away. Tell her I'm engaged to Angela - blame Emmett for bringing me here and leaving me alone to fend off unwanted advances from pretty girls with amazing tits.
B looks to the left and nods, and before I can figure out what the fuck is going on, she cups my balls. "Is this okay?"
Fuck no.
"Yeah," I rasp, biting my lip as she rubs me through my jeans, my cock hardening to granite levels.
I tilt my head at the bartender, needing another drink like I need my dick sucked.
Bad.
He gives it to me, and I slam it before asking, "Am I allowed to touch you…" I should not fucking touch her. I shouldn't want to touch her. I want my hands all over her. "...or is that against the rules?"
"You can if we're alone," she says, giving me a good little rub-a-dub-dub. "Those are my rules."
I should leave. I was just listening to Angela pick out flowers. I should tell her to go with the baby's breath.
"Fuck, that feels good," I hiss, watching her hand work me over. On top of the jeans isn't cheating. It's under the pants when I'm in trouble.
"I have a room," she says, flicking the button of my jeans.
"Wanna show it to me?"
She smiles like the cat that got the cream. "Sure."
My phone vibrates in my pocket, but I ignore it, knowing it's Angela checking up on me.
"Lead the way."
To hell, I don't say.