Page 65 of When I Should’ve Stayed (Red Bridge #2)

Clay

“What a beautiful day,” Sheriff Pete says and lifts the beer in his hand toward me. I smile at him as I take the beer I just ordered from the bartender at Norah and Bennett’s reception and clank my glass against his.

“To the happy couple,” I say and Pete grins.

“To the happy couple.”

We each take a drink, and I watch as the bartender behind the makeshift bar in the corner of the reception tent sets to work on making Marty’s rum and Coke.

“Probably feels nice to be on the other side of the bar, huh?” Pete teases and claps a hand to Marty’s back.

Marty just laughs and hands his wife Sheila a glass of white wine. Harold Metcalf steps up to join the group, a big smile beneath his handlebar moustache.

Today, July 9th, in a beautiful wedding on Bennett’s property, my best friend married the woman of his dreams. And he didn’t bitch and moan a single time about half the town of Red Bridge being here.

Two weeks after Autumn was born, Bennett told me that Norah had decided she wanted to get married in a month. I was surprised that a woman could be ready for a wedding after just having a baby, but Norah was determined, the memory of Summer and marrying my best friend her true motivation.

During their ceremony, the sky was bright with the sun and hints of pink fluffy clouds, and the memory of our sweet Summer was in every single detail. Her heavenly presence a shining light, and Norah and Bennett’s love for her an intrinsic part of their wedding.

Bennett’s smile was a constant. On the altar, he gazed at his bride like she was everything he’d ever wished for, and when Reverend Bob asked him if he took Norah to be his lawfully wedded wife, he didn’t hesitate to say, “I do.”

And now, they’re officially married. Husband and wife.

The sun has set, and everyone has gathered inside the large reception tent to continue the celebration.

Bennett and Norah are currently on the dance floor, swaying gently together to a soft song that DJ Mikey is playing, while little Autumn sleeps against Bennett’s chest.

Before the ceremony got started, I promised Bennett that I’d behave.

That I wouldn’t stir up any shit with Josie.

But now that he’s got his wife and baby in his arms and is locked tight in his bubble of happily-ever-after, I start scanning the crowd for the one and only woman who’s been on my mind all day.

Four days ago, after Josie and I spent the Fourth of July together, I woke up to an empty bed.

After we had sex, she left at some point in the middle of the night, and ever since, she’s been avoiding me. I’ve tried to call her, text her, even showed up to CAFFEINE and her house a few times, but she’s been fucking Houdini, always disappearing before I get to her.

I’ve tried to play it cool, keep it together, but fuck, I’m hurting.

I thought that night I’d finally gotten my wife back.

She told me she loved me and I told her I loved her, and I don’t think I’ve ever experienced something as powerful and intense as that moment with her beneath me, her body bared and her eyes gazing into mine while we connected as one.

I had fallen asleep that night with Josie in my arms and happier than I’d ever been in my entire fucking life. And then, she was gone.

Sheriff Peeler moves from the bar to chat with Eileen Martin, and Marty and his wife join Betty and Earl on the dance floor. Lazy Lance is surrounded by a bunch of teenage girls, staring up at him with moony eyes, and Melba is over by the cake table, admiring her half-eaten creation.

I scan all of the tables, noting the names and faces of familiar folks from Red Bridge. And when I spot the back of Breezy’s black hair, I dart my eyes to the woman standing beside her, and my heart flips on its fucking side.

Josie.

I’ve watched her like a hawk all damn day, throughout the ceremony and during the first part of the reception. I’ve behaved myself. I’ve held back from confronting her about the other night. But now, it’s time.

My strides are steady as I walk across the tent and straight for her.

She locks her eyes with mine, and I don’t miss the way her cheeks flush pink and she digs her top teeth into her lip.

I can’t hear what Breezy is saying to her, but it doesn’t matter.

Josie excuses herself from the conversation and starts walking in the opposite direction of me.

Yeah. No. I don’t fucking think so.

I navigate through the crowd, just barely brushing past Breezy, and Josie picks up her pace.

So, I pick up my fucking pace. And I don’t stop until I’m reaching out to grab Josie by the wrist and stop her. “Josie.”

“Now isn’t the time, Clay,” she says through gritted teeth.

“Oh, but now is the time,” I retort and gently tug her wrist so that she’ll look at me. When our eyes lock, it feels like all the oxygen has been sucked from the air. “I deserve an explanation.”

“Don’t make a big thing of it, okay?” she says, her facial expression neutral and cool. “It was just one night. It didn’t mean anything.”

Didn’t mean anything? Bullshit. I know her well enough to know this is just a mask.

It’s just a calculated cover for her true emotions.

She told me she loved me. She told me she wanted me.

She told me she needed me. And when I was inside her, she’d gripped my shoulders, holding my body against hers as tightly as she could.

Her green eyes were bright and vivid and filled with so much fucking love and emotion. They were a distinct reminder of the past. The way she used to look at me, before everything went to shit.

“Stop lying to yourself, Josie,” I order and tug her closer to me.

Our faces are mere inches apart, and I don’t miss the way her breaths come out in heavy pants.

“That night meant every-fucking-thing, and you know it. I know it. We both fucking know it. So why did you leave? Why did you run? Why have you spent the last four goddamn days avoiding me?”

“Just leave it be,” she says, her voice a whisper, and her green eyes look glassy with emotion. “That night shouldn’t have happened, okay? It just shouldn’t have happened.”

“You’re wrong, Josie,” I tell her and keep her eyes locked in my gaze.

“That night should’ve happened a long fucking time ago.

You and I aren’t supposed to be apart. We’re supposed to be together, and the way that night felt proves it.

You’re my wife, and I’m your husband.” My voice is harsh and soft at the same time, charged with all the feelings I’ve been trying to keep under control for the past five fucking years that we’ve been apart.

“I’m your husband. I love you. I’ve always loved you, and I won’t ever fucking stop. Do you hear me? Not ever.”

She starts to open her mouth, starts to say something, but I don’t want to hear it. Refuse to hear it. So I just kiss her. I press my mouth to hers and kiss my wife .

And she kisses me right back, her hands going to my collared shirt and gripping the material tightly between two clenched fists. Our mouths are at war and in love at the same time. Our lips are harsh but soft, and our tongues move against each other in desperation.

But then, Josie is pulling away, and when our eyes lock again, hers are wide with shock and anger. Her red lipstick is smeared across her lips, probably smeared across mine too, and she surprises the hell out of me in one fell swoop.

She slaps her hand against the side of my face in a quick, brisk movement that causes a deep, stinging ache to form beneath my skin.

“Dammit, Clay,” Josie whisper-yells, her voice so fucking sad and a lone tear slipping from her eyes. “You can’t fix this. You can’t will it away. You can’t turn back time.”

“Jose—”

“No!” she snaps. “After it happened, you kept right on living, but I’ll never be the same.”

I blink, my mind trying to understand what she is saying right now. “Kept right on living? What do you mean?” I question, but she spins on her heel and runs out of the tent, heading straight for Bennett’s barn.

And I follow her.

This conversation—this fucked-up shit between us—it isn’t done.