Prologue

May, 2012

It was like his senses were in overdrive: the fast dripping of the leaky faucet, the tickticktick of the clock overhead, even the roaring beat of his own racing heart echoed loudly in his ears. 

And that was just hearing. Everything in front of him moved by as if in fast-forward: the women in front of him moving fast in dresses with silk ribbons and matching teal chiffon as they adjusted make-up or straps to their heels, the hairstylist fluffing and spraying hair as she walked past each and every one. He felt his eyes darting back and forth between them all, searching, seeking. 

The moment he walked in the door, he zeroed in on spotting her. She was the only one that mattered; had been for the last seven (well, three, with the feelings) years. Her laugh was heard, silencing every other distraction - but he didn’t see her. 

Her. 

And then he saw her. A glowing light adorned in a white gown, grinning widely and talking animatedly with the woman doing her make-up. 

Her. 

The woman he was to be walking down the aisle in the next twenty minutes to marry the man of her dreams. 

Her. 

The woman he had been in love with for three of the seven years they had known each other; never brave enough, never the right time to speak on his feelings - not when the man waiting at the altar had swooped in only months after he realized that he might have been in love with the girl he looked at as his greatest confidante and biggest support system. 

It was too late now; their marital home and just been closed on weeks prior, honeymoon booked, future family planned. And he might have said something until he saw the dreamy look in her eyes as she spoke of their plans for a family; a family that he was sure he could never give her - he wouldn’t. He would have given her every piece of him, move heaven and earth, give the world - but children?  Children were never a plan for him. Now? He loved playing and being an uncle, loved children - but he didn’t see himself as a father himself. 

He thought maybe that would change within the walls of the many relationships that he had - that he’d see himself marrying, having children with them - building his own family like the one he grew up with, but it never happened. The need to pass down his genes, his name - was never an urge, never a tug at the heart. 

He tried to get over her; he tried to move on with stable relationships (because that was how he was, what he was known for). A couple lasted a year, maybe two. Another couple only lasted a few months. Four women came and went, and while it stung, it didn’t sting like the moment she showed up at his door with a boulder that reflected the sunlight on her finger. 

It still stung to this day. 

He raised a hand to his chest as he felt the familiar deep pressure in his sternum, now sure that this was going to be how he went: a silent, broken heart. The only one to blame would be himself - he could have made opportunity, could have even ruined moments just so she knew. 

She had to of known. Had to. He might not have vocalized it, but he knew his actions spoke loudly enough. 

He made sure to get her favorite flowers on her birthday. Got her gifts every Christmas. He held her hand when she cried. Held her hair back when she got sick. He was there when her father died (which now came back to bite him in the ass, as she asked him to escort her down the aisle). 

“Hey.”

He shook from his thoughts as a soft hand touched his wrist, bringing him back to reality. A concerned gaze met his, blue eyes meeting blue. Swallowing hard, he forced a smile, fully aware of the soft skin just barely grazing his hand now. “Hey, you.”

She shifted on her feet, still unsure about him. “Are you okay?  You didn’t respond when I called you and you zoned out for a bit, there.  And you were pressing into your chest -“

“Heartburn,” he said quickly, stopping her concerned observations. “And I was just taking it all in, is all.  There’s a lot going on and I didn’t want to get in the way.”

“You sure?  You look awfully pale …” She took his hand, pulling him into the room and sitting him down in a chair, joining him in the seat next to the one he now occupied. Her hand held his in her lap, still studying his face. “Josh, if you’re not okay -“

“I’m okay, I promise.” 

It wasn’t the first time he lied to her. Wouldn’t be the last at this rate. How much more could be spew out into the world until it came back in some negative karmic energy?  

He inhaled slowly as he finally took a moment to look at her. To really look at her. 

His Genevieve. Gen. Gigi. 

if he couldn’t breathe before, he was suffocating now. 

Her gown hugged every curve of her body, from her breasts to her thighs before fanning out slightly. The bodice was heart-shaped (which, he learned was a princess neckline after all the depressing visits to the bridal store with her), bottom of the dress ruffled. But his favorite part?  The back. A deep drop showing her fair skin and a train that also ruffled to match the front, it starting right at the top of the dress - and the top curve of her ass.  

Her make-up was light, cheeks glowing. If she didn’t light up his world already, she was now. 

“Josh.”

She brought his attention back to her, squeezing his hand. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Slow and steady. 

“Genevieve, I’m fine.”  He squeezed her hand back as best he could, praying she didn’t notice how clammy his hand suddenly had gotten. He absently wiped his other hand down his pant leg, looking anywhere but at her.  “It did suddenly get hot in here, though.”

She reached up, placing a cool hand to his forehead. It was relieving against the inferno that spread all over his skin as time passed and grew closer to the moment where he would give her away, give his heart away and let her take it without him. “You feel okay,” she observed, flipping her hand from palm to dorsal a few times to check the difference. “Don’t tell me you’re nervous,” she smiled, nudging him with her shoulder, “a celebrity such as yourself shouldn’t have any fear giving me away in front of 150 people when you’ve performed in front of one hundred times that.”

He pulled his hand away from hers, unintentionally hasty. “It’s not that, Gen,” he murmured, rubbing his hand where hers had enveloped it, “I’m just - “ he stopped, looking back over at her. Suddenly, it was just her in that room with him; no one else was there to bear witness to his words. “I need to tell you something.”

This was it. Timing be damned. She had to know. She had the right to know. His stomach twisted as he inhaled, she catching his reaction and grabbing his hand once more. It didn’t help the sudden onslaught of flutters and churns that began in his stomach. 

“Josh -“

“Gigi, I -“

“Time to take your places, everyone!  Genevieve, I need you and your escort to follow me.”

He looked over at the wedding planner, sighing deeply. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe she shouldn’t know. Who was he to throw something so heavy on her when she was getting married?

He got up quickly, her hold firm on his hand, still. “I just wanted to tell you how happy I was for you,” he said softly, hoping she wouldn’t see through the bullshit. Thankfully, she seemed to, squeezing his hand and adjusting their hold so that she was now linked through his, hand resting on his forearm. He leaned down, placed a barely there kiss to her cheek and straightened quickly, urging his heart and his mind to pay attention to the planner and have no mind to the crushing pains in his heart. 

She leaned into him, her grip on his forearm tightening. “Are you ready?”

No!  No, no, no, I’m not ready to let you go. 

He swallowed his words, forcing a smile as he looked down at her, giving a short nod. “I am. Are you?”

She shifted, adjusting the bodice and fluffing her train. It seemed that she was stalling, just as much as he wanted to. As quick as that thought crossed his mind, she looked up to him, giving him a bright smile that nearly brought him to his knees. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

He looked forward, taking a step but freezing when he felt resistance. “Gigi -“

“Tell me this is right, Josh,” she whispered, eyes darting back and forth between him and the bridesmaids in front of them. “Tell me I made the correct choice and that I’m marrying Charlie for the right reasons.”

He swallowed, shutting his eyes as he willed his selfishness away. It was right; it had to be right - Charlie could give her things that he couldn’t. Give her a house full of babies. He loved her, too. She deserved it all. All that he could not give. Would not give. 

“You did,” he said, barely managing the words as she searched his face, “he loves you. You love him.”

She nodded, both turning as the doors opened and everybody stood, waiting for their entrance. For her entrance. 

He cleared his throat, reaching over and squeezing her hand reassuringly as the cue for them to begin their walk was given. “You’ve got this, Gen,” he smiled, eyes turning back to the aisle as they began their walk. “I’ve got you.”

The short walk felt like an eternity; every step he took, a piece of his heart was left behind. In mere moments, he would give her away and that would be it. That would be the end of the life he knew and he was only to blame. 

As they stopped, he turned, leaning down and placing a kiss to her cheek once more. Her lips barely brushed his skin, hands now clammy in his. 

“I love you,” she said softly, pulling away as a slight hint of tears glistened in her eyes. She gave him a smile, releasing her hold and stepping towards Charlie, who held his hand out to her. 

He took a sharp intake of breath, catching his bearings and sitting down next to her mother, she reaching over and taking his hand and squeezing. He squeezed her hand back, shutting his eyes tightly and wishing he were anywhere but there at that moment.

He tried to think of anything, anything at all to keep him from standing and objecting; from standing, taking her hand and running, no words expressed.  He would take her away from it all faster than he could write a song - faster than he could say the words. 

Instead, he sung to himself in his head, off-beat, off-key - anything to bring his frustrations to something else - anything to keep him from hearing their vows, their commitment to one another.

It was the only thing he could do. 

Chapter One

August, 2005

He adjusted the cord to his iPod, wishing like hell the sounds playing from the small earbuds would drown out the everyday noises around him.  It had been a particularly busy day for him, one that was overstimulating and overdone.  He was glad for it being a half-day, but it felt like he had not stopped moving since he woke up at 4:30 that morning. 

Typically one for the gym, he decided that it was too busy for his already overly frazzled brain to enjoy the atmosphere and quiet and picked up his running shoes instead, eyeing the park near his home.  It couldn’t be too bad; it was mid-day, most adults were at work and most kids were hanging out at the mall or at the more kid-friendly park a few blocks down.  It was large enough that even if there were kids running around, he could avoid them with a few steps and be back on his own on the path that he was already mentally planning. 

With a simple shove, he placed the bud back in his ear.  While not overly eardrum damaging, the music was loud, staticky almost as it bounced around in his head.  The heavy beats matched the movements of his feet, hat tipped low to shade his face from the high-set sun, sunglasses long forgotten in his bag, as he knew he’d sweat so much they’d fall off.  His shorts already felt like they were clinging to him; he thankful for the compression shorts he put on underneath and his shirt held on to him as if he had just done an hour into a performance under hot lights.  Los Angeles was home, but damnit if it wasn’t like the deepest depths of Hell when it got hot. 

He could see the trail he had his sights on just ahead, he slowing down a bit to pace himself and save energy for the hills and deep inclines of the path.  He had run it a time or two, enjoying the change in scenery compared to the run around his neighborhood or the hour or two he’d spend in the gym.  His biceps were thankful for the gym, but today, his legs were going to hate him after the terrain they would be navigating shortly. 

He was always fairly thin - sometimes too thin in comparison to many of his height and weight, but he chalked it up to his active career, his eating habits (poor, poor and poor some more) and being built like a father he never met but only knew of. 

He was built like a runner: strong legs, long legs and just lanky all together.  He always thought he looked like a string bean in his teen years and when his group picked up, so when he was able, he took advantage of all hotel gyms just to build endurance, tone and look not-so-skinny. 

And perhaps his choice in running was more than just getting a break from the gym and the busy flourish of gym rats; maybe he was running to escape his thoughts and annoyances.

His album hadn’t performed well the year before and it seemed that any kind of promotion or support from the label had all but died off.  He had done some touring, some live performances and some interviews, but it really seemed his demand had all but fizzled out.

He was supposed to be doing some guest spots on some network shows and there had been an offer to be a judge on a developing MTV show about a new girl group - it was still tabled, but they had mentioned him multiple times - but nothing seemed of interest to him at that point.  It had been surprising to some, but not all, especially those in his close circle, that he honestly could be a homebody and not have a care in the world.  His career in the years prior had set him up comfortably - not filthy rich, but enough that with his little to no spending (he still drove a Jeep, lived in a modest home and put most of what he earned into an interest-bearing account that seemed to be collecting nicely), he could retire whenever he pleased and he’d be okay with that.  

His onstage persona was just a character he played.  While in some areas of his life he may consider himself energetic, confident and even hyperactive, he was quite serious and introverted.  He knew when to have fun, he knew how to have fun but he could also just turn off the world and settle into his own.

And that’s skill, that shutting out the world skill, was probably the reason he was now on the ground on his hands and knees, aware of the stinging pain in one knee and both palms of his hands.

He grunted, confused as to what happened.  Pulling out his lone earbud that happened to stay in his ear as he fell, he glanced to his side, seeing a woman scrambling to get to her feet, apologies escaping quickly and almost incoherently.  “Whoa, whoa, hey …” he reached forward, cringing as his hand burned, touching her own knee that was within reach.  “It’s alright.  Really.”

“No, no, I’m so sorry!”  She got up quickly, he following her and standing in front of her as he surveyed the damage to his hands and knee.  “You’re all scraped up like a kid riding his bike for the first time.  Ugh, I’m so careless!”

“It’s okay, really.”  He wiped his hands on his shorts, hissing a bit at the tolerable pain.  “I will live; it’s only a few scrapes.”  He surveyed her, she still rambling her apologies as she looked at her bloody elbow and scraped shin, unaware of his amused expression.  “Seriously.  I should be more aware of my surroundings when I have these things in.”  He held up his headphones, dropping his hand back down and shoving them into his pocket with his iPad.  “Are you okay?”

She stopped, seemingly flabbergasted that he wasn’t freaking out or that he had actually asked of her well-being.  “Nothing a bandaid can’t fix,” she shrugged, eyes lighting up, “oh!  I have a first aid kit in my car - c’mon, I’ll clean up that bloody knee at least.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he said, holding his hands up to stop her as she raised an eyebrow, “it probably should be a sign for me to slow down and pay attention to my surroundings.  What about you?  How did this even happen?”

She laughed, shaking her head.  “I’m clumsy and wasn’t paying attention myself.  Was running, saw a dog, turned my head and bam!  We made a tangled mess on the pavement.”

“Ah, so you’re the passenger in the car who points out random animals.”

She clicked her tongue, giving him a shrug.  “I mean, you gotta know where the cute fluffy things are.”

He grinned, looking down as he felt a slight trickling down his leg, laughing a bit as he saw the blood trailing down his leg.  “Maybe I will take you up on a bandaid?”

She looked down, gasping.  “I’m so sorry -“

“Stop,” he said, laughing again, “It’s okay.  Shit happens.”  He watched as she opened her mouth to speak but decided against it, nodding as she gestured for him to follow her to the parking lot not too far off.  “I’ve hurt myself worse so I’m really not holding it against you; we both should have probably been paying more attention - I was in my own little world.”

“I know that feeling all too well,” she agreed, working her hand into her running shorts pockets, searching for what he guessed to be her keys.  “I really am sorry, though; I know you said to not feel bad, but I do.  I checked out this morning in my own head and came here to escape everything else.”

“Sounds like we were both in the same mindset, or lack thereof,” he noted, clenching and unclenching his stinging hands.  They weren’t too heavily scraped, but stung a bit nonetheless.    “Are you from around here?  I don’t run in this area too often but I’ve never seen you.”

“I’ve been here a year or two,” she said, glancing over her shoulder as they finally reached what he was guessing to be her car: a modest mid-sized SUV with a GSW bumpersticker and Georgia license plates.  

“I take it the move here wasn’t supposed to be permanent?  Your plates are still Georgia plates.”

“Ah, an observant one you are,” she chuckled.  “I followed a guy here.  We split less than six months later.  I just graduated from Georgia Southwestern with my bachelors in Nursing and thought it was a good idea to follow him instead of my dreams.”

“So you’re a nurse,” he smiled, watching her nod as she opened her trunk, rooting around until she pulled a red box out.  “That’s nice.”

She rolled her eyes with a smile, gesturing for him to hop up into the back of the car.  “Sure.  The 24-hour shifts with 12-hour breaks in-between are a blast.  Pretty sure this 12-hour break is the reason why I’m cleaning up your knee as we speak.  Hop up here; I think I have some saline to at least rinse the gravel out of the cut.”

He did as he was told, legs barely dangling as he watched her meticulously work, cleaning the cut and applying ointment before placing a large bandage over it.  “The true work of a nurse,” he grinned, she looking up and meeting his gaze as she smiled, reaching over and cleaning up the scraps before putting everything away. 

He took her in, then - trying his damndest to not be caught as she eyed her elbow up before deciding to bandage it, also - peach complexion, blue eyes that had been hidden behind sunglasses, but they were now perched on the top of her dirty blonde hair.  It seemed long … ish, but it was pulled high in a messy bun on top of her head, a headband circling around her head and keeping the stray hairs at bay.  She was short standing in front of him - curvy frame, soft in some places but he could tell she was a runner by the shape of her calves.  She was not necessarily his type (while he dated a few blondes, his taste tended to now go to brunettes with eyes just as dark as their hair), but she was easy on the eyes.

“You done looking?”

He shook out of his stare, looking at her as he felt the heat crawl to his cheeks.  “I’m sorry, I was just thinking; I didn’t mean to stare, I promise.”

She laughed, giving him a small shrug as she watched him slide out of her trunk, shoving his hands into the pockets of his shorts.  “It’s okay.  It is actually quite flattering; been here for that year or so and I don’t get out often because of work so any kind of social interaction is a success.  Even if it’s blank staring at someone.”

“Let me buy you a coffee,” he offered, watching as she bit her lip, “to thank you for cleaning up my busted knee, at least.”

With a chuckle and a slam of her trunk, she gave him a hesitant smile.  “Okay, but make it a tea because coffee is disgusting.”

He flattened his lips inward, giving her a disturbed look.  “I don’t think we can even be friends; coffee is my lifeline.”

“Well, shucks.”

He grinned, hearing the Georgia twang come out with just that sentence.  “Probably should find out your name before taking you for coffee …”

She thrust her hand out, giving him a broad smile.  “Genevieve.  But most people call me “Gen”.  But you can call me whatever; I’m not one to care.”

He laughed.  “A true Georgia Peach you are.  Maybe I should call you “Peach”."

“I mean, you do you, boo,” she laughed, gesturing down the road towards the coffee shop, “we walking or do I have to drive your beat up self?”

“Well, Peach, being that I came here to run and ended up busting my ass, I probably should at least get some steps in.  How about we walk?”

“Sounds perfect, nameless guy.”

“Oh,” he laughed, “oh!  It’s Josh.”

“Boyband, right?  That’s how I know your face. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice face -“

He shook his head, she rambling again. He could already tell she was a “foot in mouth” kind of woman, a “rambling heart” to the point where she talks circles when flustered, though meaning well. “Not Josh in a boyband, Josh,” he interrupted her as she laughed, “but JC.  I don’t go by that unless I’m in performer mode and I’ve checked out of that one for the day. Josh will do.”

She gave him a small smile, nodding slightly as she turned her head back in the direction they were walking. He could see her lost in thought - removing her foot from her mouth, was his guess - smiling to himself as he took in her height. She was definitely about a head shorter, maybe 5’4” on a good day. Short but sassy. 

And to think, coffee didn’t make her act that way. 

Maybe it was time he laid off the coffee days of performances. 

He snorted to himself, shaking his head. Right. 

“So are you sure you’re okay?”

He brought his attention back to her as they walked through the door a few moments later, smiling and nodding his head. “I will survive. I don’t know how, but I will find the way to live.”

She gave him a slight eye roll, smirking as she turned to the menu. “I don’t know why I even look; I get the same thing at every coffee shop I go to.”

“Tell you what,” he said, eyeing the menu and then looking at her, “you order for me. I’ll change it up a bit.”

“If you’re sure …”

He turned on his heel, searching for a place for the two of them to sit. “Have at it, Genevieve; maybe you’ll turn this coffee addict into a tea drinker …”

She nodded, her head turning as a barista greeted her. “Can I have …”

Stepping away, he found a small two-seater table by the window and took himself there. It had a nice view of the park from there, he being able to see the darker clouds rolling in slowly. He should have known some sort of storm would brew; the humidity was so high that he felt like he could see the air each time he breathed. At least his car wasn’t too far - maybe he’d get a rain-soaked jog in after this. 

He turned his head back toward Genevieve, watching as she laughed with the barista at the end of the coffee bar, watching him make the two drinks in front of her. She really was pretty, even with how clumsy and fast-talking she tended to be. Those quirks actually made her more intriguing to him; something about her made him feel like she’d be good to keep around, even as friends. 

Probably shouldn’t be something he thought about when he had Rachel. 

Rachel. More off-again than on-again but there-again, nonetheless. 

He sighed. What the fuck was he doing? 

“So, I got you my favorite tea, well besides black and English Breakfast, but I’m typically boring and rarely change it up unless I want a change, so I decided that I’d get that today and see how you liked it -

He chuckled as she approached, watching her set the cups down. “That was a whole lotta sentences in one.  You do that often?”

She sat down, looking at him quizzically. “Do what?”

“Ramble when your nervous.”

“If I wasn’t rambling, then I’d be nervous,” she corrected, meeting his questioning gaze and raised eyebrow. “Okay, I’m slightly nervous.  But it’s not because of who you are, I promise.  I’m just hopeless and awkward and don’t ever socialize unless it’s with a pediatric patient and they could give two shits about anything about me unless I’m discharging them so my only socialization is usually with kids less than half my age, mostly.”

He nodded, looking down at the cup and bringing it close to his face as he let his eyes fall with the slow inhale of the aroma. “Definitely some vanilla in there,” he observed as she nodded, he inhaling again slowly. “It smells … comforting?  Soothing?  I can’t really figure that out.”  He took a slow sip, nearly falling at Heaven’s doorstep. “Holy shit, that’s good.”

She grinned, reaching for her own cup and taking a slow, long drink. “Vanilla Crème tea. Only gotten on special occasions and bad days.”

He watched her as she took another drink, eyes falling closed as she savored the taste. While she was beautiful, there was something about her. Something that he couldn’t quite put a finger on. Cliche as it sounded in his head, she was not a typical female he’d meet; maybe it was because he played off her knowing who he was (being vague works), or maybe it was because she wasn’t upping herself to impress him; she was still rambling, still very much lacking a filter. She seemed aloof, but oddly in a good way.  She acted carefree, but he had a feeling she was much like him. Finally, as she set her cup down, he spoke. “You may turn me into a tea drinker after all.”

With a grin, she did a little celebratory dance in her seat. It grew wider as he laughed, taking another drink and let her revel in her victory.

They sat at the coffee shop for over an hour and a half just speaking of mindless things, slight mentions of their professions and deep insights. It didn’t surprise him to find out that she was quite the homebody, enjoying the company of her chocolate lab, Moe, rather than that of a social circle (“I don’t have time for drama”) and enjoyed Apple Pie wine, even during the months where Apple pie and pumpkin flavor were hardly acceptable . He found she dreamt of being an art curator, but found she should probably know some things … any things to really succeed in that job; thankfully she found she was maternal and wanting to fix things so pediatric nursing ended up being her calling, though she dreamt of working in Labor and Delivery someday. 

What saddened him was the mention of her father, young at 55, was battling dementia back home - somewhere she tried to fly out to be with him every few weeks. 

At the mention of her father and the constant back and forth travel, he could see the tiredness behind her eyes. “It’s been hard,” she said softly, absently playing with the stir straw in her now-empty tea cup, “mentally, physically … financially. I’m tired. So tired. But I can’t not see my father. He was my best friend and now it’s as if he’s a total stranger.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, meeting her gaze before her eyes went past him and to the window, watching it slowly start to rain. I’m sure it is a lot to handle.”

She shrugged, forcing a smile as she looked back over at him. “I don’t need to weigh you down with the sadness in my life after we just met.”  She grinned, then, setting the straw down finally and watching him.  “Guess I do need to get out more.” 

“We both do, to be honest,” he laughed. “But it’s okay; I don’t mind being a venting post. We all need that now and again.”

“Yeah, she sighed, drawing out the word as she placed her hands on the table, “but we literally just met. You don’t dump that stuff on someone you just met.”

“It happens,” he laughed, glancing down at the time on his watch. He really had to go home and shower before his meeting, but he didn’t want to. “I have two ears; might as well put them to good use.”

“If you have to go, don’t feel like you need to stick around …”

“I’m good here,” he said quickly, “everything else can wait.”

“No, seriously, Josh … I know you probably have things to do and people to meet with -“

“One thing you’ll learn about me, Peach, is that my personal relationships matter more to me than my working relationships. I work very hard to maintain stability within the realm of my life and while I love what I do, I love the people that I have around me more. I like to think that having you around to ramble endlessly and entertain me is a lot better than sitting at a meeting where they tell me what to do, where to go …”

“I do ramble a lot, huh?”  

He got up, intending on getting another two cups of tea for them. He wasn’t ready to leave her company yet; she made him forget about his annoyances of the day.  “You might, but I don’t mind. You ramble, I stop talking; we’ll balance each other out in this new friendship of ours.”

She smiled brightly, he watching as her eyes squinted once the corners met the highest point they could go. Not only did she ramble to the extreme, but her smile, big and beautiful, was just as extreme. It made him smile, too; keeping her around might be the best decision he could have made. 

Now, he was going to do everything in his power to see that smile as often as possible. He made a mental note to think of funny anecdotes, jokes … anything to see it again and again. 

“Guess I’ll keep you around, too,” she finally said, looking down at her phone as it rang. “There’s no one else who would accept a stranger that crashed into them.”

“Maybe that was the world telling us we both needed to slow down and pay attention.”

“Maybe,” she said, lifting up her phone and glancing at the name on the screen, “or maybe the world knew we needed someone like the other to help keep them sane.”

Arching an eyebrow, he tapped the table and stepped backward as he watched her answer her phone. He heard “mom” come out in a greeting, leaving her to the phone call as he grabbed refills for the two of them. 

“Hey,” he greeted as the barista met him at the counter, “two more vanilla cream teas, please.”

The barista smiled, glancing over JC’s shoulder at Genevieve. “She your girlfriend?”

He glanced back, looking at the woman as she animatedly spoke with her mother. “Nah, I met her today. We just decided to have some tea together. She doesn’t know many people around here.”

The barista nodded, still looking at her as he prepared the drinks. “She new around here?”

“A few years transplanted …” he trailed off, suddenly understanding the sudden interest in her. “Why?  You interested or something?”

The barista grinned, shrugging. “I might be.”

He grew quiet, watching as the barista finished up the drinks and set them down in front of him. “Thanks,” he murmured, sliding cash across the counter and walking away. He didn’t have a place to say anything, but the guy gave him major creep vibes. Maybe now he did, since they decided to be friends (what were they?  Kids on the playground?) but he still felt off about not declining his future advances for her. 

He approached the table, she looking up as she finished her phone call.  “Sorry,” she said, closing the phone and setting it back down.  “It was my mom.  She checks in every couple days since I’m the only child who flew the nest and went far, far away.”

“I’d answer it, too,” he smiled, setting down her tea in front of her and sitting down in the chair as he sipped his own.  “So, barista guy over there was asking about you.”

She laughed, side-eyeing the counter as she looked back at JC.  “Are we already to the point of our new friendship that you’re going to play wingman for random guys?”

He snorted.  “Absolutely not.  I don’t play wingman for anybody; just go throw yourself out there and leave me out of it.  Just figured I’d give you a heads up on that one.”  He started laughing as she rolled her eyes, looking out the window as a rumble of thunder shook the building.  “Ah, my favorite thing in the world!”

“Thunderstorms?”

“Yes,” she nodded, “prime nap time weather.”

He grinned, shaking his head as he looked around the coffee shop, catching the gaze of the barista.  He had an unreadable look on his face and he could only grin, knowing that he really thought JC was going to be the matchmaker for him.  Think again.

“So, Josh, what about you?  Any girls I need to wingwoman for?”  She wiggled her eyebrows, chuckling as she saw the redness creep onto his cheeks.  “Yes?”

“No!”  He laughed, looking anywhere but at her.  “I’m … seeing someone.  It’s been very off and on for quite some time but, yeah, she’s around.”

“Make sure you give me all her information so I can sell it to the media."

He looked at her, she smirking.  “Why do I feel like you’re gonna keep me on my toes?”

“Probably because I am,” she said honestly.  “Should probably keep me around; I’ll be good for you.”

He smiled, taking a long sip of his tea as he let the rain echo in his ears.  He didn’t know how right she was.

Chapter Two

May, 2012

He opened his eyes, scenarios bouncing in his head from objecting and running away with her to objecting and her rejecting him, sending him away. He pictured her married, having babies and forgetting about him; forgetting about the man she nearly took out that August day, just days before his 29th birthday and then took in as someone she cared about deeply and made sure he took care of himself. He sighed deeply, shaking from his blank stare as he heard a roar of applause, the two of them kissing. 

It was done. She was married. He was still alone. He was too late. 

He couldn’t help the slight burning of tears as he hurriedly blinked them away, releasing her mother’s hand as he swiped frantically away. Thankfully she was too occupied with watching her daughter and new son-in-law seal the marriage to notice the other man, one she considered a son, falling slowly into a deep abyss at his own undoing. 

The couple turned and he knew where her eyes would go: right to his. He blinked hard once, twice, stopping any more tears as he forced himself to clap but froze when her eyes finally did drag over the crowd to meet his. They were unreadable; what he once described to her as the most transparent part of her became opaque. The smile on her face was large - but it didn’t reach her eyes; they didn’t half-close in her extreme happiness. Instead, the opaque look and the plastered on smile she carried said nothing to him.

Around them, everyone could see happiness. Everyone saw a newly wedding woman already shining beautifully in wedded bliss. Around them, the walls were closing. His heart felt as if it had stopped and pounded back to life as her eyes bore into his, still illegible. 

What is it, Gen?  Why are you looking at me that way?

As quickly as the opaqueness appeared, it melted away and her smile grew, turning her head to look at the other wedding guests. Charlie lifted their joined hands in a celebratory manner, dropping them back down as he dipped her, kissing her once more. 

I can’t be here. I shouldn’t be here. I don’t belong here. 

I need to go. I have to go. 

Just as he went to stand, everyone stood, watching as Genevieve and Charlie walked back down the aisle.  It worked out for the better; now it didn’t seem like he was leaving in a hurry - but all he wanted to do was get in his car and drive far, far away. 

“Josh, are you okay?  You look a bit pale.”

He jumped at her mom’s soft voice, eyes fluttering closed at her touch to his forehead. Breathe. Just … breathe. 

“Josh?”

He returned his gaze to hers, swallowing hard. “N-no,” he managed to murmur, “I’m not. I don’t think I’ll ever be again.”

“Joshua -“

He excused himself, gently squeezing past her before they were excused to leave. He didn’t care at this point if people noticed; he just needed air. 

“Josh!”

He heard his name being called as he reached the bottom of the steps, bending over so that his hands were on his knees. A shaky hand reached up after he was steady, yanking at the tie and loosening its suffocating grip around his neck. He’d ignore her. He’d pretend he didn’t hear her and leave. He’d -

“Joshua Scott, if I didn’t know any better, I would think you were trying to ditch this wedding.”

Dingdingding!  

He flinched when he felt her hand touch his shoulder, feeling Charlie’s presence nearby and hearing the murmurs of all the guests slowly trickling outside. “I’m not,” he spit out, shutting his eyes tightly as the ground began to spin, “just felt sick. Needed air.”

She wrapped her fingers around his bicep, tugging at him to stand. “Charlie, help me -“

“No,” he said quickly, sighing inwardly. “I mean, no, I’m okay. Just need a minute.”

“Josh -“

He stood, unsure of any other way to stop her concern except reaching forward and wrapping his arms around her, hugging her tightly. He closed his eyes, inhaling her scent. It was something different, a light amber scent - something he already decided he never wanted to smell on her again because it would remind him of this day - the day he let his heart walk off without him. 

He wanted her to smell like her citrus-self again; the papaya, mango, passion fruit. He wanted her fruity, not sexy. 

And as horrible as that had sounded in his head, that’s what he wanted. 

He wanted her. He wanted her so bad it hurt. 

He opened his eyes, meeting her mother’s gaze and he could see it in her eyes the moment theirs met that she knew. She knew. 

Fuck. 

He pulled away, forcing himself to shake Charlie’s hand. “I’m gonna go get some water from my car and I’ll see you guys at the reception,” he said softly, meeting her concerned gaze. “Gigi, I’m okay.”

No, I’m not. 

She grabbed his hand, still trying to keep him. “If you’re sure -“ 

I’ve never been so unsure of anything in my entire life. 

He left before she had a chance to say anything more, squeezing her hand as he pulled his from her grasp.  His heart was pounding, head spinning; all of this because he chose her happiness over his. 

He chose her.  Her chose her and then he lost her. 

She slipped right out of his grasp and he just let her all those years ago. 

He fumbled with his keys as he fast approached his Jeep, unlocking it quickly and getting in. He reached for the bottle of water sitting in the cup holder, staring blankly ahead as he unscrewed the top and brought it to his mouth. 

You’re a fucking idiot, Chasez. 

Chugging it until he was breathless, he started the car and began his drive to the reception hall just down the street. He was all too familiar with the roads and the hall itself, having visited and planned with Genevieve so many times that he could have possibly navigated blindly. 

It was breathtaking, if he were to be honest with himself: while the main celebration was inside, there was a gazebo just behind the main hall, adorned with fairy lights and mauve tulle - her favorite color (of the moment; he could ask her in a week and the color may change).  Around the hall, there was matching tulle and lights, giving the area a “dreamy” look (her words) at night. They both knew that once the food and drinks kicked in, many would be outside - especially with how beautiful out it had been. 

He parked, sitting in his Jeep with his head on his hands at the wheel. He hit his head a few times against his fingers, needing a moment to collect himself. 

Like that’s going to happen. 

Never in his life had his world been so messy; not even in the midst of the collapse of the group and the relationships after (better now). He had no business feeling this way; had no business wishing something different when the different wasn’t something he was so sure about. 

Charlie could give her the life she always wanted, something for the books; the wedded bliss, the babies. 

But he could give her more than that: stability, a beautiful home, the dog. 

That damn dog she talked him into getting since she wasn’t allowed pets. Bruce, the fat, slobbery English Bulldog who loved her just as much as he did. 

He sighed deeply, the ache in his chest strong. Pushing open his door and willing his legs to work, he slowly walked through the parking lot and to the hall as other guests trickled into the gravel lot. 

He found his table placard, tapping it against his hand as he walked slowly towards his seat. The hall was bright and beautiful: white floors, the mauve tulle, fairy lights everywhere. She wanted clean, so the mauve accents were only wrapped around the chairs as a ribbon and hanging from the ceiling with the fairy lights nestled inside.  Most, if not the rest, were white and crisp - something she had for Charlie so the wedding wasn’t so “girly”. 

He sat in the quiet of his table, still the only one inside.  He liked it that way; alone with his thoughts, with his self-pity - but he didn’t like that everything around him reminded him of why he felt the way he felt.

A loud laugh shook him from his thoughts, turning his head as he watched a few others joke and laugh as they gathered their table numbers, happy and unaware of the dark cloud just feet away from them. 

“She looked so beautiful.”

“They looked so happy.”

“Did you see that smile on her face?  She couldn’t wipe it off!”

He turned to face his table again, staring down at the tablecloth and scratching idly at it.  If they thought that smile was her happy, they didn’t know her at all. 

Had he made a mistake?  Had he let her do something she didn’t want to do?

He sighed deeply, resting his forehead on his arms and wishing he had not promised himself to keep sober and not do something he’d regret.

Maybe at this point, embarrassment would feel better than heartbreak.