Page 12 of False Promises

“Go away,” I growled low, my voice too rough to resonate across the room. “Just leave me alone.” I coughed, the lining of my throat raspy from my binge drinking and subsequent dehydration.

The thundering in my skull increased.

“Open the door, or I’m breaking it.”

“Fine. Fine. Just gimme a—” I got to my feet, my legs collapsing under my weight, the whiskey bottle rolling on the floor. “Great,” I said as I gripped the headrest of the couch to steady myself until I could stand on shaky feet. How long had I been out? I made a detour to the kitchen to place the bottle—one of the many—on the island. How many had I drunk? I shrugged and let out a laugh. It sounded devilish as it left my mouth, sending a cold shiver through me. Who cared? I had no clue and no intention of counting all of them. Still drowsy, I stumbled to the front door.

I met my reflection in the mirror hanging on the slate-gray wall of my hallway and stopped. My hair was a dark mess, and looking at my scruffy jaw, I wondered when the last time I shaved was. I blinked as I next took in the black suit, the rumpled button-down white shirt with the top three buttons missing, and the black bowtie hanging around my neck. Why was I so dressed up? Where the hell was I last night? Or early this morning?

I dragged a hand over my face, erasing the signs of my drunkenness. Yeah, right. Not happening. My glossy eyes and the dry drool at the corner of my mouth were giving me away. I looked like I’d spent the night on the street and hadn’t showered in days.

My brother’s voice roared from the other side of the door. “Carter, I’m not kidding. I’ll break in.”

“Stop screaming, big brother. I’m coming. Jesus. Can’t you let a man sleep?”

My hand found the doorknob. I straightened my back and inhaled.

With a smug smirk plastered on my face, I yanked the door open, bracing myself against the doorframe.

“Hey man, what’s up?” My eyes traveled from his perfectly coiffed hair to his shiny black dress shoes. “Wow. Looking sharp.” A hiccup escaped my lips, and I silenced it with a hand over my mouth.

Jeff’s eyes widened, and his nostrils flared. His hands clenched at his sides, and a dark flush rose on his cheeks.

“What are you so pissed off about? Chill, for fuck’s sake. You’re the one who just woke me up.” I tousled my hair with my hand to prove my point.

“If you’re joking, now isn’t the time. Why aren’t you dressed up and ready to go?”

I waved my hand over the length of my body. “Are you blind? I’m dressed all right. Geez, relax.”

Jeff scratched the back of his neck and shook his head. “Okay, Cart. This is worse than I imagined.” He closed his eyes for a minute and breathed. Another hiccup left my mouth. “Dahlia and I are getting married in an hour, and you look like shit. Did you forget you’re the best man? You agreed to this. I gave you a choice, and you said you’d be fine. That you’d show up and act like a decent human being for a few hours. You either forgot, or you don’t care. Which one is it? Damn it, Carter. Look at you. You’re a mess.”

Our eyes met, and the disappointment I could read in his glance broke something in my heart.

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, and as if the distress in my brother’s eyes was some sort of voodoo shit, my level of intoxication dropped a few notches.

The aftertaste of whiskey lingered on my pasty tongue. I scratched my forehead with the nail of my thumb. “I’m sorry, man. I screwed up.”

Jeff shook his head and clapped my shoulder. “It’s okay, Cart. I knew this day would be hard for you. Let’s get you cleaned up.” My brother pulled me into a hug. A strong and tight embrace. “There’s a lot of history between you two. We’ll deal with it. Talk about it. Or whatever. When you’re ready.”

I nodded, and Jeff pushed me inside, straight into the bathroom. He turned the water on and helped me undress, stripping off my wrinkled suit. Why was I in a suit again? Did I put in on last night to get a head start and be ready for the wedding? Fuck. I had no idea. Whatever. It was stupid.

“I’ll make some coffee and secure another suit for you to wear. Just get in the shower, okay?”

I bowed my head and entered the— “For god’s sake,” I screamed as the cold water rained on my skin. “Fucker,” I grumbled as I adjusted the temperature and cursed at my brother.

* * *

With my hands linked in front of me, I stood beside Jeff, watching the girl of my dreams walk up the aisle. Toward him. A large, pink-painted smile brightening her face, Dahlia’s moss-green eyes glinted like stars in an inky sky.

In her strapless dress, her red hair knotted at the back of her head in some girly-fancy shit, she looked everything like a princess. Jeff was right all this time. He’d been calling her Princess since we were kids when Dahlia wouldn’t jump into mud holes with us because she had a white dress on. Just like the one she was wearing right now.

Each step in our direction—in my brother’s direction—killed another chunk of my already-aching heart.

Our eyes met for a flash-second before she brought hers back to her future husband.

I tried to breathe, but the oxygen wasn’t reaching my brain. My hands were moist. My head light and dizzy. My stomach a pit of fire.

All the muscles in my back and neck tensed. One little push and I would snap at the seams. Shatter like a glass castle hit by a boulder.