The Groom Read Online Free Page A

am
now.”
    “That’s not funny.”
    “I have to find the humor in my
life somewhere. Anyway, it’s late, girl. Go to bed. See you tomorrow night,
okay?”
    “All right. Watch your back.”

 

Chapter Three
    _________

 
 
    LYLE WAS
SNATCHED abruptly out of sleep by the blaring of his cell phone. The irritating
chirp combined with the vibrations coming from his pocket, making it impossible
for him to slide back into the alcohol-induced slumber he’d finally succumbed
to a few hours ago. Scraping his fingernails over the rough stubble lining his
jaw, he reached for his cell phone with his free hand and glared at the screen
through blurry eyes.
    He didn’t say a word as he
pressed the green call button and held the phone to his ear, but he was sure a
grunt of some kind passed from between his lips. The voice of Dan, his
co-worker, best friend, and best man, filled his ear and echoed through his
pounding head.
    “Climb out of whatever liquor
bottle you’ve sunk to the bottom of and answer the damn door. I’ve been down
here buzzing you for the last fifteen minutes.”
    Lyle groaned and ended the call,
tossing his phone onto the couch beside him. He didn’t want to see or talk to
anyone, but he also knew Dan wouldn’t leave until he let him up. Fighting
nausea and the urge to fall back onto the couch and sleep until the end of the
year, Lyle peeled himself off the leather and shuffled on bare feet through the
house. He buzzed Dan up, barking “I’ll be in the shower” through the intercom
before continuing on his dizzying voyage to the master bedroom, unlocking the
front door on his way to let Dan in.
    He was too hung over to give a
damn about rose petals on the bed this morning and managed to get into the
bathroom and his marble-tiled walk-in shower without melting into a puddle of
depression on the floor. The hot sting of the shower woke him up some, and he
welcomed the pain of nearly scalding water. It turned his skin red and filled
the shower with steam, relaxing his muscles until he felt nearly weightless. He
faintly heard Dan enter the apartment, the slamming of the front door, and the
gentle hum of voices. One of them was feminine, and Lyle distinctly recognized
the Southern tones of Twila, his housekeeper. She was supposed to have the next
week off for obvious reasons, but Lyle should have known she’d show up today.
    Meddlesome woman.
    He took his time, avoidance his
strategy for as long as he could get away with it. After a while, he knew Twila
would come running in to be sure he hadn’t passed out in the shower and
drowned—that woman watched way too many horror films—so he quickly
dried and threw on a pair of dry-cleaned khakis and an already starched white
shirt, sliding on socks and loafers before combing his wet hair back from his
face and leaving the room.
    Twila had already brewed a pot of
coffee and was across the room in a flash, a white ceramic mug extended and
full of her strong, potent brew. Dan was seated at the long, curved bar jutting
away from the kitchen, his own cup and a plate of Twila’s scrambled eggs in
front of him.
    “Good morning,” Twila chirped
cheerily. Lyle glared at her over the cup but took a sip of the coffee—no
need to let it go to waste.
    “You’re not supposed to be here,”
Lyle said eventually, his voice low and raspy.
    Twila bustled back over to the
stove, piling a plate with bacon, toast, eggs and a mixture of cantaloupe and
honeydew melon. She set the plate on the bar and pulled a stool out for Lyle.
    “Well, I am here, so you’re just
going to have to deal with it,” she said in that abrasive way of hers. Usually
Lyle appreciated her frankness and in-your-face personality. Today, he wasn’t
in the mood.
    He speared Dan with his sharp
gaze, his hand once again finding the five o’clock shadow on his face. The
stubble irritated him, but he didn’t feel like shaving.
    “What about you?” he asked. “What
the hell do you want?”
    Before Dan