Good Morning Heartache Read online

  Good Morning

  Heartache

  Audrey Dacey

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Text © 2012 Audrey Dacey

  All Rights Reserved

  www.audreydacey.com

  Cover design and images © 2012 Clayton Smith

  MOTSO Ever After

  An imprint of MOTSO Books

  This book is dedicated to all my family and friends who have supported me in my endeavors. I will never be able to truly express my gratitude

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 1

  “I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.”

  Alexis Conner gripped a ring box in one hand and a small bouquet of pink roses in the other, her knuckles red from fear of dropping one. She heard her best friend’s words swirl around her as her heart hammered against her chest with an intensity she was unaware was possible while standing still.

  Caitlyn Murphy and Michael Fitzgerald publicly and willingly declared their love for one another, surrounded by friends, family, God, stained-glass windows, a harpist, a vocalist, and Alexis. She heard the words, but she wasn’t paying attention. It was too…too…dammit she couldn’t even think straight. She could barely think at all.

  “Ahem.” The eyes of the elderly Irish priest and about a hundred others were all on Alexis.

  “Yes, your… your honor,” she said, pretty sure she got it wrong.

  “The ring, my dear.” He waved his hand to beckon her forward as she heard a few chuckles from the pews.

  Alexis smiled as big as she could as she looked out over the faceless crowd. Then she turned, set her flowers on the seat behind her, and carefully walked across the marble floor in the too-tall stilettos she had insisted on. Holding the ring box above her head, she said, “Right here. I got it.”

  When she reached Caitlyn, she opened the box and pulled the ring out of its cozy slot. “Here you go.”

  The priest smiled, but his eyes were narrowed at her. It didn’t matter to Alexis. She couldn’t be any more uncomfortable in this place than she already was.

  Alexis looked up and around, surveying the chapel, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her gut and the tightness in her throat. For the first time since she was twenty-one, she thought she might want the protection of a constant companion to share her life. It scared the crap out of her. If there was one thing she knew she couldn't count on finding, it was a man who was constant.

  Alexis hadn't had a committed relationship in seven years, but she had sex at least four times a week. She thought sex was a gift given to humankind, and she was a compulsive re-gifter. Her method of getting what she required and getting out before any one got too attached was solid and had worked for years. It was exactly what she wanted, until this special, awkward day she was forced to be a part of.

  This ceremony, this wedding, went against everything she believed in. It wasn’t that she was against this particular marriage. If Caitlyn thought she could make it work with this guy, that was her business. Alexis just didn’t think a person could actually promise his or her forever to somebody else.

  As the priest made the sign of the cross over the couple and the congregation spoke a singular “Amen,” Alexis almost couldn’t contain her laughter. At least she thought it was laughter, but as it rose in her it made her whole head ache and her eyes burn.

  Caitlyn and Michael sealed the final blessing with a gentle kiss. When they stepped away from one another, they both had huge, goofy smiles on their faces. Alexis had never seen Caitlyn as happy as she was that day, in that moment.

  Caitlyn skipped down the aisle, her left arm laced through Michael's right, and Alexis got a sick feeling in her stomach. A feeling she had successfully avoided for all those years. The need to be loved. For a moment she envied what Caitlyn had—Amens and everything. Nothing she had done with her life had warranted that feeling, and she was pretty sure she didn't deserve to be loved by anyone.

  As she followed the couple past the rows of people, her chest became tense in her chocolate chiffon strapless dress, and she felt a dire need for fresh air. Despite the vaulted ceilings and openness of the chapel, Alexis thought she might suffocate. She could see the exit ahead but couldn't push past the newlyweds without attracting more attention than she deserved or desired. So, she let the feeling sit under her collarbone. She even bore it as it rose to her throat. She just had to get out of the church, and she would be fine.

  Alexis, concentrating more on her quickening breath and the beads of sweat forming along her hairline, didn't realize she had quickened her pace, practically dragging the nerdy best man, Tom something-or-other, down the aisle, and closing the gap between them and the bride and groom. Before she could correct herself, the toe of her shiny, gold heel held down the lacey bottom edge of Caitlyn’s floor-length veil.

  Caitlyn noticed too late. As her body continued forward, her head tipped back toward the altar, arching her back. The comb pulled free from the waterfall of curls, and Caitlyn righted herself, avoiding a fall.

  Caitlyn turned to look back at Alexis, who blurted out an “Oh, shit!” that echoed in the rafters and above the gasps and whispers.

  All the heads in the church snapped to look at the blasphemer. Though she wasn't easily embarrassed, Alexis felt the heat of chagrin rising to her cheeks and the weight that had settled on her chest growing.

  Before the tension became unbearable and suffocated Alexis, Caitlyn began laughing, and soon the walls rang with the sound of the congregation’s laughter. Alexis let out a few nervous chuckles as she looked around at the crowd, who could turn on her again at any moment.

  She noticed only one person who was not entertained by her blunder. His glacier-blue eyes bore into her, and there was no amusement in his dark features. She felt a hot humiliation wash over her.

  Alexis slipped out of the church, thinking the fresh air would get rid of the shame. But when she stepped out onto the stone blocks of the courtyard floor she found that the feeling had only dissipated, not disappeared. The heavy humidity of the late-May New England air did not bring much relief.

  Alexis smoothed her lips into a kind smile as the crowd of people pushed their way through the heavy wooden doors. She was good at faking the proper emotion, whatever the occasion. She didn't like to put on a façade and she didn’t do it often anymore, but in cases such as these, it was imperative. Just because she didn't believe in love or marriage and they made her clumsy and physically ill, didn't mean she had the right to ruin her friend's day.

  There had been moments in the whirlwind romance of Caitlyn and Michael when Alexis wanted to tie up her friend until she detoxified her from the inebriating ways of Mr. Fitzgerald, but she couldn't do it, not completely. Soon, all she could do was stand idly by—as much as she was able— and let Caitlyn get love drunk.

  Alexis stared at the elderly priest, who smiled broadly as he watched the joy radiating from the crowd, and she wondered if he knew Caitlyn was knocked up. She wasn't that far along, only thirteen weeks, and while m
ost people, when they found out, would think this was a shotgun wedding, Alexis knew it wasn’t. Michael had been planning to propose to Caitlyn already when she told him she was pregnant. But in a dark part of Alexis, it was satisfying to know they weren't the perfect couple they appeared to be this evening. Life was messy, and their lives were no exception.

  A breeze swept through the corridor, and the skirt of Alexis's knee-length dress whipped around her legs. The feeling brought her back into the moment, and she realized Caitlyn's mother had wheeled up beside her and was bad mouthing the people surrounding the bride and groom.

  “I can't believe they’re just standing there. Don't they know dinner is in forty-five minutes? We still have to take pictures.” Cat Murphy wore a grimace on her face. At the age of sixty she looked more like seventy-five, and the wheelchair she sported didn’t help. Cat was not good at filtering her true thoughts. She didn't see a reason to bother, and Alexis liked her for that. Most of the time, anyway. It bugged the crap out of Caitlyn, but Alexis couldn't help but indulge Mrs. Murphy now and laugh at her later.

  “The nerve.” Alexis had to chew on her bottom lip to keep from laughing. It was the first time since they arrived that morning that Alexis actually felt like herself instead of someone’s doll who was only allowed three programmed sentences. It had been six years since she’d been in a church of any kind, and she hoped this would be the last time she’d ever have to set foot on consecrated ground.

  Mrs. Murphy glared at Alexis, “Well, I'm not going to let it go on any longer.” And before Alexis could do or say anything, Cat rolled toward the crowd of people, stopped to clap her hands to get their attention, and announced they should make their way to their cars and on to the Viscount Suites.

  Alexis turned to look at Caitlyn, whose face dropped into an expression of embarrassed horror. Their eyes met, and Alexis just shook her head to remind Caitlyn to let it go. There was no controlling her mother, so there was no point in trying.

  Caitlyn put on a smile, ignoring her mother’s demands, and continued to thank her friends and family for their congratulations.

  Alexis scanned the crowd with a practiced eye. She knew exactly who she was looking for, but she didn’t know what he looked like yet. It didn’t require that she mingle, so she found an unoccupied piece of wall from which to begin the hunt.

  At this point, Alexis was sure of only one thing—she needed to get laid tonight. She needed mind-blowing sex to get her out of the day's mind-numbing funk. She hoped she could convince some sucker to forgo thoughts of love, marriage, and babies for one night. She didn't get laid the night before, and the nights before that were lackluster. No wonder this wedding was getting to her. She needed a fantastic orgasm, a wild ride, an untamed beast to remind her of the benefits of lust.

  Alexis loved men—she was certain any man she had been with would attest to that—and she was an equal opportunity lover. A man of any race, color, creed, or national origin was welcome in her bed. Hell—if a man was questioning his sexuality, she'd help him sort it out. Alexis loved the way men smelled. She loved to run her fingers through the coarse hair on a man's chest or across his smooth skin. She loved bald men, especially the ones who wore it with pride, and men with hair longer than hers. Her favorite part of a man was his arms. Even if a guy never worked out and had the beginnings of a beer belly, his arms always seemed to stay strong and defined.

  One of her favorite feelings in the world was the weight of a naked man against her bare skin. The look of desire in a man's eyes drove her mad, even if he wasn't looking at her.

  She wasn't a slut; she knew sluts. Alexis had a discerning taste. Even if he liked it rough, he had to be sweet. He had to be clean—everywhere. He had to have some self-respect. She didn't just sleep with any guy because she wanted to get laid. She had to like him first. Sometimes a couple minutes acquaintance was enough. Sometimes a couple of years. Some guys just didn't make the grade no matter what they did. In this crowd, a guy had yet to make the first cut, and Alexis was probably going to have to be less discerning than usual, which wouldn’t satisfy her the way she needed to be satisfied.

  After a few minutes, most of the guests headed to their cars and were off to the reception. A short man with a goatee and a camera with a long lens touched Alexis on the shoulder, startling her from her thoughts.

  “Picture time,” he said with a smile, waving the camera at her face.

  Alexis returned his fake smile, pushed off the cool wall, and moved in the direction he was shuffling her. She turned to look at him as they were walking toward the bride and groom. He wasn't bad looking. He kind of looked like a leprechaun, and she wondered what prize was waiting at the end of his rainbow.

  The thin band of gold encircling his left ring finger stopped her thoughts. No married men. That was one of her rules. Guess he wasn't that lucky after all.

  Alexis took her place in line next to Caitlyn and shook her head to try and get her curled hair back into place. “I’m sorry,” she said through a smile.

  Caitlyn remained looking forward at the camera, her smile, which was one of the few real ones Alexis had seen all day, did not falter. “Whether I like it or not, it’s who you are. So, who were you checking out?”

  “What?”

  Snap.

  Alexis hoped the leprechaun didn’t catch her surprise in that frame.

  “When you weren’t paying attention to my wedding, who were you checking out?”

  Caitlyn thought Alexis had started hunting in the chapel. She wished she had thought of it; it might have taken her mind off of—her stomach began fluttering with the sick feeling again. Alexis shivered and forced the smile back on her face. “No one,” she said. “I was just out of it. I wasn’t feeling very well.”

  “Okay,” said the leprechaun. “Just the bride, groom, best man, and maid of honor.”

  Three people from both sides of the couple stepped behind the camera, and Caitlyn turned and looked at Alexis. “Are you okay?”

  Alexis nodded and Caitlyn turned back. “Withdrawal, I guess. Any suggestions?”

  Caitlyn laughed and turned to the lens. “You have a one track mind.”

  Alexis smiled. Snap. “I just know what I want.”

  The leprechaun lowered his camera. “Okay, how about a silly one?”

  “Seriously?” Alexis said under her breath and put her hands on her hips. “Caitlyn,” she whispered, “this guy is going to ruin your pictures.”

  “Just do it.”

  Alexis let her tongue fall out of her mouth and shook her head in more disapproval than silliness.

  Caitlyn smiled. “What about one of the groomsmen? Tom’s a real nice guy.”

  Snap.

  She glanced over at the line of groomsmen on the other side of the camera and then over at Tom. No.

  “I don’t want a nice guy,” Alexis replied.

  Nerdy doctors weren't really the type that would do it for her tonight. They were too unpredictable. Some were great, some were okay. Alexis needed spectacular.

  “Never mind. I’ll just have to find someone good at the reception.” If there’s no one suitable there, she thought, there’s always the hotel bar.

  “Alright, just the bride and groom.”

  Alexis walked away from the couple and stood with the rest of the bridesmaids. She watched as the man with glacier-blue eyes crossed the courtyard, his eyes still frowning. He’d make the cut under the best of circumstances. And the bitterness he seemed to have toward weddings and happiness only worked in his favor.

  §

  A large group of people had formed a circle in the middle of the dance floor and were flapping their arms like chickens in unison. Ryan Webb sat in a dining chair and shook his head in disgust. He hoped all of them were blind drunk; otherwise, there was no excuse.

  The sane few remained along the edges at tables and chit-chatted in hushed tones, but all the guests who had been seated at table seven, Ryan's table, were now doing the chicken dance. Ryan
just leaned back against the chair and watched. He could go and talk to someone. He should. He needed to polish up his social skills, but he couldn't bring himself to participate in the inane small talk of a wedding. Besides, people were either already involved in a conversation or were having a good time looking like idiots. He neither wanted to interrupt their private conversations nor subject himself to foolish behavior for the sake of—what?—practice?

  Caitlyn and Michael were lucky he actually liked them. Both of them. Michael was his roommate in Gila Hall their freshman and sophomore years at the U of A, and Caitlyn always seemed to be hanging around.

  He had talked to them infrequently over the years and was shocked to learn they were getting hitched. He always thought Michael would end up with some bimbo, or someone who was absolutely out of her mind. That was usually what he brought back to the dorm room. And that wasn't Caitlyn.

  In those first few years at the U of A, they were always asking him to go out with them to get frozen yogurt or to go to the rec center. Occasionally he would join them, but most of the time he stayed in the room and studied. They didn’t understand the work load of an architecture and business dual major.

  School was important to him then. Work was important to him now. At least this trip wouldn’t be a complete waste and provided him with a project. He needed to engross himself in work for the moment, without actually being at work.

  Ryan sipped his drink and prepared for the customary bride-groom small talk as Michael caught his attention and moved his new wife toward Ryan.

  “Hi, Ryan.” The bride said as she gave him what could only be called a hug but was really too loose to justify the name. Caitlyn always had weird personal space issues, which was completely okay with Ryan. “Thank you for coming. I honestly didn’t think you’d take us up on the invite, but I’m really glad you did.”

  Ryan was an awkward conversationalist—it was his Achilles heel—so he just smiled back at her. Michael held out his hand, and Ryan exchanged a firm handshake with him. “I can’t thank you enough for your gift. It’s really generous.”