Mine to Have (Southern Wedding #1)(3)

"You don’t think I know this," I retort, my voice going higher. The nerves in my body start, and my feet move on their own, pacing back and forth. "It’s Travis." Saying his name feels foreign to me, yet feels like coming back home. "He was my everything." I take another sip of the tea. "I was going to…" I stop talking, knowing that this walk down memory lane will help no one.

"You were going to marry him." She fills in for me.

"I mean, if he would have asked, yes, I would have," I admit to her. "But apparently, Jennifer is the one for him."

"Well, imagine his surprise when you put down that you aren’t going," Amelia says, and I look over at her. "You aren’t going."

"I promised." The words come out in a whisper. "I promised that I would be there at the happiest day of his life."

Her mouth opens. "Well, promises can be broken." She stands up. "You are not going. That would be crazy. How does he even introduce you? Honey, this is Harlow. We went out in college?" She shakes her head. "It’s not a good idea." She grabs the bottle from me. "And neither is drinking this shit when you’re mad. You’ll make bad decisions."

"You aren’t even wearing a bra." I point at her, and she gasps and covers her nipples.

"I rushed over here," she huffs. "Because I thought you were in need."

"I am in need," I confirm to her. "I’m in need of a date to go to my ex-boyfriend's wedding!” I yell.

"I’m going home," she announces. "Are you coming?"

"Did you make dinner?" I ask, and she glares at me.

"I haven’t put on a bra. You think I made dinner?" she says with her teeth clenched.

"Gosh, just asking," I say and start to walk out of the office with her. "If you want, I can cook."

"The last time you tried to cook, the fire department had to come to your house." She looks over her shoulder at me.

"That was because I forgot I put the pot on the stove and then went to take a bath." I stop moving. "I’ll meet you there," I say, turning around and walking back into my office.

I grab the white envelope and take it out. The pen is in my hand next as I click off the “will attend” with my name “Harlow Barnes.” Sealing it back in the envelope, I toss it in the mailbox at the corner. "It’ll be fine," I say as I open the mailbox and place the envelope in it. "I’ll go and fulfill my promise, and then we can all move on." I close the lid and let go of the breath in me. "And I’ll never see him again."





Chapter 2





Travis

"Would you be quiet?" I hear someone whisper, and my eyes spring open. I take a minute to look around and see if I was dreaming or if it was actually coming from someplace in my house. "We should make coffee." I hear another whisper, and I look over and see that it’s almost seven o’clock. The sun from outside is slowly trying to creep in from the blinds. My head turns toward the bedroom door as I listen to make sure.

"Oh, we should maybe make him something to eat." I close my eyes, blinking away the sleep, before sitting up in bed, and tossing the top cover to the side. Sliding out of bed, I tiptoe toward the front door while I hear another whisper. I stand in the doorway, making sure I recognize the voices before I walk out.

"We should have brought doughnuts or something." I shake my head and look out of the bedroom, seeing my three sisters all huddled at the front door. "You go and get him." Presley pushes Shelby toward the stairs, and if I hadn’t just awoken from a deep sleep, I would laugh at the three of them.

"What the hell are you guys doing here?" I say, stepping out of my bedroom and looking down over the railing. The sound of all three of my sisters yelling fills the house. They all look up at me, huddled together.

"Jesus fucking Christ,” Shelby, my oldest sister, says, putting her hand to her chest. "You gave me a fucking heart attack." Her black hair is tied up on top of her head, and she wears black yoga pants with a white shirt. Her blue eyes glare at me as if I did something wrong.

"Why the hell are you sneaking into my house?" I put my hand on the wooden banister and look down at them.

"We aren’t sneaking." Clarabella shakes her head. "Who sneaks in by using a key?" She holds up the key she got from under the mat outside.

"You are lucky that I didn’t come down with the baseball bat I have in the bedroom." I look at each of them.

"One." My youngest sister, Presley, puts up a manicured finger. "You suck at baseball," she reminds me. "You lost the game for us last year, and two"—she puts up another finger—"go get dressed. I’m about to throw up my croissant I just ate."

"I’m in my boxers," I say, looking down at myself. "And you are in my house. Imagine if I was naked." I throw my hands up, and my voice goes louder. The three of them all grimace with the fact that I could have been naked. "And two, I did not lose that game. It was the three of you thinking you can each catch a ball and fall into each other." I point at the three of them, all of them rolling their eyes.

"Go get dressed. We’ll start the coffee,” Shelby says, walking into the house and toward the kitchen.