“What am I looking for?” I asked as I typed in her passcode.
“You’ll know when you see it.”
On her screen, I scrolled through the articles until one caught my attention, and my entire body lit up like grand-finale fireworks on the Fourth of July.
“No way. Is this real?” I asked, my giddiness bubbling up to the surface as I suppress a laugh.
“It is.”
“Oh my gosh. This is the best thing I’ve read in weeks.”
Beside me, Dean asked, “What is it?”
I read the headline aloud. “Baseball Star, Owen Ramsey, Left at the Altar During Tropical Destination Wedding.”
“Oh damn.” Dean winced.
“Don’t you dare feel sorry for him. Believe me when I say he deserves all the worst kind of karma.” Turning my attention back to the screen, I skimmed through the article, noting how the surprise nuptials had very few attendants, mostly her friends and family. I knew for a fact that his mother hadn’t been there, since I saw her yesterday. “Oh, shit,” I mumbled as I read the last line.
“What?” Jenna questioned as she ripped the phone out of my hand and read over the words on the screen. “Oh, shit.”
“Will someone please fill me in?” Dean inquired as he crossed his arms over his chest.
Jenna replied immediately, her eyes darting over to me, “Owen’s coming home.”
Chewing my bottom lip, I let the words sink in. Owen never visited Ashfield. It was a fluke when he showed up for the wedding with his mom. Rumor was they were settling his father’s estate that weekend and she convinced him to be her plus-one. He’d been invited to every festival, every town parade, every graduation… but he never accepted the requests. I didn’t keep up with his life, unlike everyone else in town, but from what I knew, Owen was more than content to view Ashfield as nothing more than a memory. It was something I couldn’t fathom. The man had the world at his fingertips but couldn’t so much as take the time to call his old friends nor his family.
“Oh no,” I whispered. “I wonder if Beverly knows.”
Chapter Two – Owen
My eyes felt dry and crusty as I pried them open. I lifted my head off the table in the airport lounge as the boarding group of first-class passengers was called. I smacked my lips as the cotton feeling transferred to my taste buds. It felt like I was coming off a three-day bender, even though I hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since my wedding day. Well, what would have been my wedding day.
Being left at the altar should have been the most embarrassing moment of my life. Instead, that was eclipsed by finding my fiancée and her male best friend doing their own horizontal tango in the reception hall right next to the ten-thousand dollar cake she had to have. What made it worse was that the small gathering of wedding guests witnessed it along with me.
I stood there dumbfounded for a solid minute before I realized what was happening. My best friend, Marc, tried to shield me from the chaos erupting before my eyes, but I shoved him away as I made my way toward the couple.
Vanessa and I locked eyes, but her pal, Francisco, didn’t relent from his pounding into her. I wasn’t sure if he even knew anyone was there, or if he just didn’t care. As I moved toward them, her eyes grew wider with my every step, and then I watched her mouth fall open as she screamed out her orgasm—something I had seen her do hundreds of times—as I cut into our wedding cake and plated a slice. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if she screamed from pleasure, or anger at the fact that I ruined the dessert.
“Help yourself, everyone!” I shouted to the crowd as my ex-fiancée tried to scurry away from Francisco. I left the room without a backward glance, Marc and Brent hot on my heels.
Now, beside my arm on the table, I watched my phone light up again for the thousandth time over the last three days. Vanessa’s name flashed, and I flipped it over so I didn’t have to look at her face again. I gave my lawyer strict instructions for getting Vanessa out of my house by the time I returned. I knew he’d get it taken care of.
In the meantime, I was more distraught about where I was headed, not so much about the events that occurred recently. It was a place I vowed to never return to unless it was necessary. I never understood why my mom didn’t leave at the first chance she got.
As I left the lounge and headed toward the boarding area, I tugged my ball cap farther down in an attempt to mask my face. The prying eyes were like lasers searing my skin.
“Sir, can I help you with your bag?” the flight attendant asked, as I left my hard case of bats at the gate check and proceeded into the plane with my carry-on.
“I’ve got it, thanks,” I grumbled as I stored the small piece of luggage in the cubby above me, then settled into my seat. I booked the three seats in my row, because I needed both the leg room and the privacy.
In my pocket, my phone buzzed again, and I worried it was another incessant call from Vanessa, but I was waiting for a call from both my coach and agent, so I couldn’t just ignore it. Glancing at the device, I winced as I realized it was none of those options. My mom’s name was flashing on the screen. I thought about ignoring it, like I had over the years. We talked, but not nearly as much as some of my teammates and their parents. With us, it was all forced. Nothing personal, ever.
I begrudgingly pressed the green button and held the phone up to my ear. “Hi, Mom.”
“Owen, is it true? Are you coming home?” she asked, elation weaving through her voice.
Squirming in my chair, I wondered if the relentless messages from Vanessa had to do with our lack of marital bliss hitting the gossip rags. I knew it was only a matter of time before the story would leak. I’d already met with the team’s PR group, which was why I was headed to the last place I wanted to be. This morning must have been the day of the drop. Tabloids were probably running wild with the story. I could see it now: One of the Country’s Hottest and Highest-Paid Baseball Players Now a Jilted Groom.
“When did you find out?” I asked.
“Well, I overheard Aspen speaking to her mom and sisters at the bed-and-breakfast this morning.”
My back straightened at the sound of the youngest Easterly’s name. She’d been a thorn in my side from the day I stepped into our first-grade class, her always having to be better than everyone else, always having to be first at everything. Her family alone pretty much ran the town. It was a shame, since I liked most of them. Hell, I idolized her older brother when I was a kid. But Aspen… she made me act in ways I wasn’t proud of. Mostly at her expense.
I’d seen her only once since I left, when I went home for a wedding, and I got a smug sense of pleasure at watching her eyes rake over me in my fitted suit. It was too bad her face appeared as if I were a dead mouse dragged in by a cat.
I remembered vividly the words she spoke, low and raspy, as if she’d been fighting off a cold. “You aren’t welcome here.” Her father joined us at the same moment, and he quickly steered her away before coming back to catch up with me.
Like I said, I’d always been a fan of her family, her father especially. Our property butted up to the backside of theirs, and on one too many occasions, he would catch me camping along the stream that separated our properties.
At my silence, my mother pressed me again. “So, is it?”
“Is what?”
“Is it true? Are you coming home?”
Lifting my hat, I ran my hand through the brown strands, tugging the ends a bit at my frustration. “Yes, but it’s only temporary.”
