Page 4 of Second Chance Saloon

CHAPTER THREE

Mitch

Gasps rang through the air, drowning the soft moans and whimpering coming from the speakers.

Bile rose in his throat, but he couldn’t look away from the screen.

Hunter’s wife, Caroline, rushed up to the altar, almost tripping over her billowing emerald dress. “Switch it off!” She directed her petrified voice at no one in particular.

Mitch’s feet, clad in shiny leather dress shoes, were glued to the marble floor. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed against a burning stone. Fire ravaged his lungs.

He thought he was about to pass out.

The video cut off; the screen went black.

Rational thoughts struggled to surface amid his heartbeat thundering in his ears. Vaguely, he was aware of Hunter’s voice carrying in the chapel, the rustle of dresses and shuffling of feet as people got up from their seats. But his eyes had glazed over, and his thoughts had jumbled into a ball of thorns, pricking at the edges of his consciousness. This had to be a sick joke, right?

Mitch flinched when a hand touched his forearm.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Hunter said in a low voice.

Words wouldn’t form at the back of his mouth, but he let Hunter usher him away from the chapel. He had no idea where they were going. The only thing he could concentrate on was putting one foot in front of the other as the horrible realization sank in: Eve cheated on him on their wedding day. With her client.

Before he knew what was happening, Hunter had sat him down and shoved a generous glass of single malt whisky into his hand—since meeting Hunter, he’d only drink Scotch.

His fingers wrapped around it on instinct, and he tipped his head back, downing its contents. The alcohol burned his throat and warmed the blood flowing through his numb body. He shook the daze off, looking around his surroundings.

Hunter had brought him to the hotel bar, empty except for them and a bartender. They’d hired the entire complex for the wedding.

His stomach churned as his gaze landed on silver trays laden with canapés, ready to be served to their guests during the drinks reception. He cleared his throat. “I need to tell the staff to help themselves to the food. Otherwise, it’s all going to go to waste.”

Hunter stood. “I’ll do it. You have another drink.” He nodded to the bartender, who refilled Mitch’s glass.

Mitch gave him a stiff nod, lifting the glass to his lips. How many drinks would it take to erase the image of Eve’s legs wrapped around Lionel Webster, making the sounds he thought he would be the last one to ever coax from her for the rest of their lives?

His knuckles whitened on the glass.

A lot. That was a safe estimate.

The double doors swung open, and he turned at the sound of heels click-clacking on the wooden floor.

Caroline fidgeted with her gold bracelet as she approached the bar, a stormy expression on her face. She stopped by the stool next to Mitch, resting her hands on top of the bar. She didn’t even need to say anything; her face said it all.

He sighed. “Is it Armageddon out there?”

“Your parents had a shouting match with Eve’s. I won’t repeat what went on but … it wasn’t very pleasant, as you can imagine.” She winced. “Eve wants to talk to you.”

Mitch snorted into his glass. “I have nothing to say to her.”

Why would she want to talk to him? It was over. She had humiliated him in the worst way imaginable. He never thought he had to worry about her cheating on him. They were happy. The sex was good. Everything else was great. Or so he had thought.

He loved her, damn it.

“Do you want me to tell her that?” Caroline asked.

“Tell her to take her shit out of my apartment. I don’t want to see any of it, or her, ever again.”

The door swung open again.