WORTHY, Part 3 (The Worthy Series) (14 page)

The condo was full of people I didn’t know, but I was going to get through this. Ash Martin was the only friend that I had, besides Felix’s dubious presence, and I didn’t want to alienate him, too.

I squared my shoulders and marched right into the fray.

Hans was the first person I saw, his shoulder length hair whipping back and forth in time to the music. They had really gone all out for this bachelor party. I didn’t believe Ash for a second that it had been a spur of the moment thing. There were penis shapes everywhere — penis cookies, a penis cake, penis garlands adorning the ceiling, everything. Hans had a penis shaped whistle around his neck that he brought to his mouth to blow every few seconds.

I’d never had the privilege of going to a bachelor or bachelorette party, so this was all new to me. Apparently, penises were a thing.

“Michelle! Oh my God! I’m so glad you could make it!”

I turned around to see Ash, who also had a penis whistle and was wearing a head wreath of various dildos. I must’ve gawked for too long, because it made him guffaw and blush.

“What, this old thing?” he asked, lifting it down for me to inspect closer.

“It’s pretty amazing,” I said, poking at a silicone shaft. “The decorations in here are great.”

“Thank you so much,” Ash gushed, setting his wreath of sex toys aside. “I mean, you only really get married once, right? Well, nowadays, you can never tell. Hans and I wanted to have fun and do it right, so we didn’t really spare any expense.”

“I really wish you all the best,” I said, handing him the bags of wine. “Don’t go drinking all of this in one place, now.”

“Oh my,” he said, peering at the labels. “Michelle, you shouldn’t have.”

“Oh, please,” I said. “You’re my best friend, Ash. You and Hans deserve all of the happiness in the world.”

“I’m hiding these,” he said, holding the bags to his chest. “I don’t want any of these drunk fucks mistaking this for house wine. Speaking of which, we have a bartender set up in the kitchen. Please, help yourself.”

“Of course,” I said. “Enjoy.”

I left Ash to go hide his wine and mingle some more and drifted to the kitchen. Before I could get there, though, the music cut off, and the DJ started speaking in the microphone.

“Let’s hear it for the lovely couple, Ash and Hans,” he said, and everyone erupted into cheers and applause. “We have a special guest here who wants to tell them something before their wedding.”

A well-dressed man in a suit and tie materialized through the crowd, and everyone backed off a little to give him space.

“I just want to tell Ash and Hans that I’m all theirs on this special night,” the man said, and a blistering bass set began. He moved his hips in time to it while everyone watched in stunned silence. When he ripped off his entire suit — except for the tie, cuffs, and a pair of briefs emblazoned with a tie of their own — everyone, including me, suddenly understood that this was a stripper. As everyone cheered and screamed at the display, I used the distraction to make my way to the kitchen.

I needed a drink to enjoy this.

Cocktail in hand, I turned back to the spectacle. The stripper had cornered Ash, who looked like he was about to die of laughter — that would be sad before the nuptials — and was grinding against him. Hans was equally tickled, snapping pictures from all angles as Ash got the wedding present of a lifetime. With a small pop, the briefs evaporated into the tiniest string thong I’d ever seen. There was nothing, absolutely nothing left to the imagination — not that it’d been hard not to see what had been lying in wait beneath the thin material of his briefs.

Ash was cackling so hard that tears were pouring down his face, and Hans had given up on documenting the show for posterity and was instead focused on the stripper’s posterior, spanking his bare cheeks for all he was worth.

This was what love was all about, I realized: two people who knew how to have a good time, how to enjoy everything life threw at them, how to laugh and love each other and be each other’s best friends. It was bittersweet to see how much Ash and Hans were enjoying themselves. As happy as I was for them, it was too easy to remember that I thought I’d be that happy once — a long time ago, when Jonathan and I had said our vows.

I downed my cocktail and turned back to the bartender in the kitchen. It was an ingenious setup, really. Ash and Hans’ kitchen opened up to the rest of the floor space in a window. It was absolutely designed to have someone behind that window, serving you whatever you wanted. My cocktail refreshed, I turned back to the scene. The stripper had taken off his tie and was using it to lasso Hans, who was galloping around wildly, apparently blind drunk. I’d never seen Ash laugh so hard in the entire time I’d known him, and I had to smile a little bit.

They deserved to be happy, to have the happiest marriage possible.

“Seems like a waste, don’t you think?” a woman standing next to me said.

“How’s that?” I asked, having to practically yell over the music to be heard.

“All those muscles on that stripper, and he’s probably gay,” the woman said.

“Might be a waste to you and me, but not to the happy couple,” I pointed out.

“Truth,” the woman concurred, and I looked at her for the first time.

Son of a bitch. It was Jane Wharton, Jonathan’s sister. She was wearing a tiny, sparkling dress and the way her hair was mussed told me she was at the sloppy stage of drunkenness, but it was Jane all the same. I hadn’t seen her in ages. I remembered suddenly that she was the one who’d introduced me to Ash in the first place. He’d given her the perky set of breasts that were currently threatening to spill out of her dress.

“Jane?” I asked, just to be sure.

“We haven’t made out before, have we?” she asked, peering at me so closely that we nearly bumped noses. “Don’t take this personally, but you’re not the only one. I’m sometimes a make-out whore when I get drunk enough. You’re cute, though. Want to kiss?”

“No,” I said, putting my hand on her bare shoulder and pushing her away a little bit. “It’s me, Michelle. Your sister-in-law?”

“You’re not my sister-in-law,” she scoffed. “Michelle had the best hair ever. I mean, kind of goldilocks, but curly and long and blond. Nothing like yours.”

“Jane, look at me,” I said. “I’m Michelle.”

“And another thing,” she slurred. “I wasn’t going to say it because it’s impolite, maybe, but I think I will. She had the ugliest fucking scar on her face, too.”

“It’s me, Jane,” I sighed. “I lived at the compound with you. You took me out drinking. You showed me pictures of Violet cheating on me with Jonathan.”

“Holy shit, it really is you,” she said, spilling her drink in her haste to get her arms around me. “Michelle! Where have you been? Everyone’s been wondering.”

“I’ve been busy,” I said. “How are you doing? How’s everything?”

“I went to Europe,” she said, nodding to herself. “Pretty sure, anyways. It was amazing. Went with a bunch of girlfriends. Do you have any idea how many guys I fucked? I tried to make it at least one for each country. It was strenuous.”

“Good for you,” I said, uncomfortable. Jane was incredibly drunk, and her over-sharing had always made me cringe. It was like no time had passed at all.

“It was seven,” she said. “Seven guys. Five countries. Italy was the best.”

“All right,” I said, throwing back my drink.

“Shots,” Jane said, grabbing at me. “Shots. Let’s go.”

“One shot,” I said. “That’s all.”

I couldn’t forget that horrible night of tequila shots at the club with her and Brock even if I tried — well, the parts that I could remember, at least. I might’ve been pretty close to becoming an expert at drinking now, but shots were something I still couldn’t completely stomach.

I endured a tequila shot, sucking on the lime just like Jane herself had taught me, then turned back to her.

“Are you working yet?” I asked. “If you’re still thinking about being a lawyer, I can probably help.” The firm always needed new lawyers, and wouldn’t that chap the Whartons’ asses to have Jane come work for the very people who were going to end their company?

“Ugh, working at getting drunk,” she said, taking a messy slug of her drink. “I’ve decided that I’m just going to be a philanthropist. What the hell, you know? I’ll just sling my parents’ money around for a living. It sounds pretty sweet.”

“It does sound pretty sweet,” I agreed, just for the sake of friendliness. I wondered how that would stand with Collier and Amelia, then found that I didn’t really care. I turned to see what progress Ash and Hans had made with the stripper and whipped quickly back around to Jane. The stripper was totally nude except for the cuffs, and that was just something I didn’t need to see.

“Total waste,” she repeated, staring at the stripper chasing Ash and Hans around.

“Brock’s not around here, is he?” I asked, a sudden stab of hate working its way through my damaged heart. Half of me wished he had come as Jane’s date. I wanted to see just how hard I could slap him before anyone could pull us apart. He’d been such an asshole to take advantage of me blacked out that night, to take those horrible photos and send them to Jonathan. It had been so creepy. He had to have had a tripod or something in the room to be able to manage it.

“Why, you have the hots for him?” Jane crooned. “I thought you were supposed to be married to my brother.”

“Well, you know as well as I do how well that’s going,” I muttered. “I just wanted to tell Brock to go fuck himself. That’s all.”

Jane whooped with laughter. “I wish I could witness that,” she said. “You’ve got an edge, now, Michelle. I don’t know what it is. Maybe the hair.”

“Yeah, maybe the hair,” I said. “So, I heard Jonathan got his memories back.” It wasn’t really smooth, but I figured Jane was too drunk to pass judgment. Was I shamelessly plying her for information? Sure. I definitely wasn’t above that.

“You heard correctly,” Jane said, nodding exaggeratedly. “Doctor said it was some kind of shock response to losing you, or something. I don’t know. It sounded like mumbo jumbo to me.”

“What do you mean, losing me?” I asked.

“He tried to find you one day and he couldn’t,” Jane said. “I don’t know. I didn’t know you could just lose a person. He kind of got all crazy, talked about hiring detectives or something, but Dad wouldn’t let him. Said you’d be found when you were ready.”

Collier. The man was just full of wisdom, wasn’t he? Would things be different if Jonathan had found me in the hospital? I doubted it. At that point, I hadn’t wanted to be near anyone with the last name of Wharton.

“And how is he?” I asked. “You know, generally speaking.”

“Kind of an asshole,” Jane said, wrinkling her nose. “Drinks a lot, but not the fun kind. Likes to be by himself.”

“By himself?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice and mannerisms casual. “You mean he’s not seeing anyone? I thought he’d be with Violet, you know?”

Jane burst into something between a laugh and a snort. “Violet? Why?”

“Well, because of the time they spent together traveling the world,” I said. “You know. After he and I got married.” Was she really too drunk to remember all that drama? She’d been the one to break that news to me.

“You’re crazy,” Jane giggled. “My brother hates Violet’s guts.”

“What?” That was news to me. From the way they’d looked in those photos Jane had shown me, they seemed to be really cozy with each other. In love, even. They had been engaged to be married prior to Jonathan losing all his memories — and meeting me. And I’d never seen him be anything but polite to Violet, even when she was acting like an idiot.

“Can’t stand her,” Jane said, shrugging. “She is pretty dumb.”

I shook my head. “But I don’t understand,” I said. “I thought that with me out of the picture, they’d be together. What was with that whole world traveling thing? Didn’t that rekindle their romance or whatever?”

I didn’t know why I was trying so hard to put Violet and Jonathan together in my mind. Maybe it was out of guilt for how I’d been with Milo. Maybe I wanted him to be happy, to find satisfaction in someone. Maybe I just wanted to be punished even further for everything that had happened.

“Oh my God, that,” Jane said, slapping her knee. “Wait until you hear the whole story!”

I was a glutton for pain. Everything fell away — the crush of people, the stripper pursuing Ash and Hans, even the drink I was holding in my own hand. I focused completely on Jane. I wanted to hear every last gory detail, was desperate to hear all about my husband’s torrid worldwide love affair with his former fiancée.

“Well, Violet hated you,” Jane said. “You were rivals, even with that nasty scar on your face.”

I blinked and tried not to be offended. It had been a nasty scar — though it was gone now — and Jane was ludicrously drunk. Plus, Violet had been a professional model. Back then, there hadn’t been any competition. She was definitely more attractive than I was. Now, though, I’d like to think I’d give her a run for her money.

“So, when Jonathan had to leave during the reception, Violet hatched this plan,” Jane continued, pausing to slurp down some more of her cocktail. “She would do anything to marry my brother. So, she sent me some old photos from the vacations she and Jonathan used to go on. You know, back before Jonathan lost his memory.”