The landscape transformed from pastoral to suburban. Letting the Mustang slow on its own, he took a deep breath, realizing that the tight band around his chest at the concept of facing Melinda tonight, hung over and still reeling from his embarrassing hook up with Cara had released its hold.
Deciding to go to her place anyway, he drove into town, threatening the traffic under his breath, and found street parking near her condo building. He’d stopped trying to convince her to spring for the extra space in the underground parking and had paid an expensive fine for parking in her spot one night after he’d driven them to her place.
Jingling his keys in his pocket, he whistled his way past the doorman who, luckily, remained a fan from his college-playing days.
“Evenin’, Love.” The man grinned at his overused pun over the top of his computer console.
“Back at ya,” Kieran said, feeling jaunty at the thought of lying around on Melinda’s leather furniture and drinking her booze, taking a shower in her huge bathroom, and sleeping it off in her bed alone. He used the keycard she’d finally surrendered to him so he could gain access to the higher floors and walked down the hushed hallway to her end unit. After cranking the AC down to where he didn’t need a sweatshirt, he snagged a beer from the fridge and flopped onto her couch.
After a few hours channel surfing and fighting off a looming cloud of depression, he glanced over at the giant leather ottoman thing she claimed as a coffee table, somewhat alarmed to note that it was covered in empties.
Figuring he’d best get rid of the evidence, he snagged all of them, lurching into the kitchen and trying to recall where she put recyclable stuff. After rinsing them all thoroughly he realized he’d filled the bin and cursed again. He had no idea where garbage or anything went from this snooty high-rise. Maybe fairies arrived at night and spirited it all away after installing the toilet paper so it dispensed a certain way to suit her, and folded her towels the same direction so they were neat inside the closet.
Propping up on the edge of the sink he took a moment to acknowledge his drunkenness. Melinda’s face loomed large in his consciousness, the day she’d broken off the engagement a few months before their original wedding date.
It had been the day of Antony’s wedding to the therapist lady Margot, a week after Aiden had married Rosalee Norris, Antony’s one-time girlfriend. Quite the soap opera, but Kieran had been thrilled that his brothers had found happiness after the year of drama they’d caused between them. Both Rosie and Margot were amazing women, different but alike in many ways.
“You people,” Melinda had sneered at him that morning as they got ready for Antony’s wedding. “I don’t get it. Must be some redneck thing.”
Kieran had frozen as he tied his tie. He’d been second guessing their relationship already, thanks to his mother’s shocking outburst, calling Melinda the C-word of all things in front of the whole family after he and his brothers had acted like hormone-addled teenagers at one of her famous neighborhood Halloween parties. He’d tried to ignore Melinda’s attitude, writing it off as something she’d get over once they were married and had a kid or two. But more often than not, everything that came out of her mouth made him grind his teeth, no matter how incredible she’d been between the sheets. Of course that had been back when they’d had an actual sex life.
He’d yanked her arm and pulled her away from her bank of mirrors.
“Don’t you dare manhandle me,” she’d spat out, glaring at him. “I’m not one of your stupid groupies or high school sweeties.”
“No, you are definitely neither of those things,” he’d said. He recalled it now, as if it were unfolding in front of him like an overly dramatic movie. “I am sick of your snooty bullshit. This is my family. Take ‘em or leave ‘em.”
She’d not flinched in the face of his words, merely crossed her arms over her chest and pondered him as if he were day-old road kill. “Okay, I leave them.” She’d taken off her ring, set it on the bathroom vanity counter, and breezed past him.
“You…what?” Panic had skittered around in his chest like a nest of mice.
She’d slipped her feet out of the fancy wedding shoes. “What? You gone deaf? I leave them. It’s over. Your ring is there. The door is over there. Take one. Use the other.”
He’d waited a few seconds, letting it sink in before grabbing the ring and running after her into the kitchen, this kitchen where he now lingered, his head woozy and gut churning. The abject loser he’d acted like then haunted him to this day. He’d begged her to change her mind, told her he’d not make her go to the wedding, anything, if she’d reconsider. He loved her. He’d do anything to keep her.