His Plus One by Kate Aster

Chapter 21

~ HAILEY ~

“Come on, Hailey. We’re not letting you leave until you go up there and sing.”

I’ve been to a few events that have karaoke, and they always seem to follow this same pattern.

I go.

I look at the lengthy list of song options.

Then I sing every one of them… in my head, rather than into the microphone.

“How about something like I Will Survive? Bet you could nail that right now,” Max giggles. She’s had way too many Mai Tais getting up the nerve to sing the theme to Frozen.

It was a train wreck. Yet she couldn’t have been more delighted.

I want that, dammit. I want that look of satisfaction that she has right now as she sips her drink.

I watch a guy stumble up the couple steps to the stage on the pool deck. He sings Call Me Maybe and seems to be directing it to a woman at the bar who rolls her eyes lavishly and then leaves.

Yep. Smart move, sister.

I look around me, pushing my glasses up my nose. No contacts for me today. Not after a night of crying.

I frown at what I see. This crowd seems to have a serious case of PDST—People Doing Stupid Things. At least half of these people are completely inebriated, either to get up the nerve to sing, or to squeeze out the last bit of value on their Bottomless Drink Package on this last day of the cruise.

The last day of the cruise—that I should be enjoying with Graydon.

“I need to apologize to him,” I find myself muttering, swirling the ice in my glass.

Max looks appalled. “Why? He’s in the wrong. Not you.”

I shake my head. “He shouldn’t have to sleep on his parents’ sofa. He’s paying a fortune for that suite.”

Freya cocks her head. “So why did you let him?”

Max’s gaze on her turns sharp. “Wait a sec. Don’t blame the victim.”

“I’m not,” Freya says. “He’s in the wrong. That’s really clear. And you should be mad, Hailey. But you said he apologized.”

Natasha gives a little shrug. “I’m kind of with Freya on this one. I mean, I’d be mad—but you guys have something special, Hailey. I’d hate to see you end it just because he acted impulsively.”

“True. We all do that sometimes,” Max grumbles before taking a sip of her drink, looking as though impulsivity has gotten her into her own share of trouble.

“It’s not just what he did, though. It’s mostly…” My voice trails and I reach for my drink, hoping it will affect me as quickly as it seems to have done to this crowd. “I’m just ashamed. Okay?” I sigh, hating the admission. “I’m ashamed.”

“Of him?”

“No. Of myself. I mean, first I was just mad that Graydon would think I’d be stupid enough to not be able to handle this on my own. But then I realize—dammit—I bet the whole freaking world is thinking that.”

“Why?” Natasha asks.

“Natasha, I wasted six years on a man. Six years. I let myself be completely used. For six years,” I say it again, as though admitting it, really owning it, might just make it all go away.

Natasha shrugs. “My husband cheated on me with the woman we hired to be a surrogate mom because I can’t have kids, and I didn’t find out until she got pregnant with his child. Try to top that one.”

My face screws up. “Holy crap. I’m so sorry.”

She places her hand over mine on the table in that sisterly way I’ve come to enjoy from these women on this trip. “You need to learn to forgive yourself.”

“But my brains… they’ve always been my saving grace. I’m not—gorgeous like you are, Natasha—”

“She has a point, Natasha. You are way too pretty for your own good,” Max interrupts, slurring her words just a bit.

“But I’m smart,” I continue. “I was always so confident that people looked at me and were saying, ‘Hey, look, there’s Hailey. She’s pretty nerdy, but she’s smart.’ But yesterday I realized that everyone’s probably saying, ‘Hey, there’s Hailey, the idiot who got bled dry financially and strung along by someone for six years.’”

“They’re not saying that.”

“Then they’re thinking it. I mean, look at what Graydon did. That says it all.”

“Graydon didn’t call your ex because he thinks you’re an idiot. He did it because he loves you. And he’s an idiot,” Freya tacks on.

I shake my head. “But he doesn’t love me.”

Max snorts. “You should see how he looks at you. I have pictures I could show you if Freya would just give me my damn camera back.”

“You told me to hold onto it if you started drinking.”

Max narrows her eyes. “I changed my mind.”

Freya’s eyes widen. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re an angry drunk?”

Natasha interrupts, “Ummm. Guys—”

“I’m not angry. And I’m not drunk.”

“Ummm, guys—”

“No offense, Max, but you’re three sheets to the—”

“Ummm, guys.” Natasha holds up both her hands to silence us. “If you’d all stop arguing, maybe you’d notice who just took the stage.”

All of our heads turn, and I spot Graydon taking the microphone from a woman who just belted out an Aretha Franklin classic.

“What is he doing?” Max says it. But we’re all thinking it.

I start to rise, instinctively drawn to his side, or maybe it’s just because I’ve heard him tell me he is tone deaf and I want to save him the humiliation.

But Freya stops me, grabbing my hand. “I think you should sit back down and let the man speak.” Her tone is wry, sounding amused.

“Can I have your attention, everyone?” he says into the mic. “I know you’re expecting me to humiliate myself singing my own rendition of the classic groveling song, Please Forgive Me. But I’m hoping you’ll let me speak for just a couple minutes first because there’s something I want to say. And once I start singing, security will probably escort me off the stage for the greater good.”

A couple tables full of women giggle, swooning at the sight of the man on stage. He looks so handsome up there, freshly shaved, with his broad shoulders filling out the same suit he wore to the wedding.

I can’t blame them. I’m mad at him, and I’m kind of swooning myself.

“I, uh… my name is Graydon Adler. I’m the fourth son to wear a military uniform in my family.”

I hear applause from a few of the older people in the audience. I don’t recognize them from the wedding, but I’d bet my life they’re veterans.

“Thank you. So being in the military comes with its share of problems, and one is that I tend to have two speeds: zero miles per hour and light speed. I sometimes act before I think. It’s kept me alive more than a few times, earned me a few medals, and yesterday, got me into a lot of trouble with the woman I love.”

My mouth gapes at his choice of words, and my friends’ heads swing in my direction. I feel the warmth of their smiles on me, but I can’t pull my eyes away from Graydon.

The woman I love?He said it so easily, so quickly, that I’m second guessing whether I even actually heard it.

His eyes lock on me and he smiles as though he just saw me in this crowd and was as hungry for the sight of me as I was for him.

“And I really do love her,” he continues, as though he’s reading my mind. “She’s given me a million reasons to over the past four years, but I’ve only really come to appreciate all of them just recently. First off, she’s the smartest person I know. Her brain is balls-out sexy as hell. And what she does with it—well, a lot of people say they want to use their talents and gifts to make the world a better place. She doesn’t just say it. She does it. Whether she knows it or not, I found that attractive long before we turned our friendship into something else.”

A tiny smile edges past the shock and inches upward on my lips.

“But there are so many other things to love about her,” he continues. “Her commitment to others, to her job, to her country. Her strength. And did I mention yet that she’s absolutely gorgeous, inside and out?”

All eyes turn to me, and I blush.

“And it’s been brought to my attention that this colossal mistake I made might have made her feel like I don’t respect her judgement,” he says. “So I’m standing here, about to make a complete fool of myself singing, just to tell her that her judgement is the best of any person I’ve ever known. Fact is, she’s way too good for me. That’s why my brothers tell me that I need a crowd like all of you on my side to maybe get her to forgive me.”

“Take him back!” one person shouts from the bar and everyone claps as a few others yell, “Forgive him!”

My friends at the table laugh. But I just sit here, feeling silly tears threaten in my eyes, just like they always do when I’m experiencing emotions of this depth after precious little sleep.

He loves me?

“In the military,” he continues, “we’re taught that we’re only as strong as the person on our right and on our left. And when I deploy, I appreciate the strength of my Team. But not all of life’s struggles are going to be when I’m facing enemy fire. One day, there may be kids who need to get to school on time on those mornings when the toaster’s caught fire and the dog peed on the floor. There will be lost socks in the dryer that need to be found. And there will be stacks of dishes after those big family dinners she tells me she wants. And I want to be on her team for those ordinary struggles because—”

A woman screams in the distance, and for a split second it barely even registers as anything more than yet another person doing something under the influence of alcohol they’ll regret.

Wait... what the…?

I see Graydon’s spine straighten, his head turn slightly, and he bellows in his unmistakably military voice, “Man overboard! Starboard. Three o’clock.”

Then, when his mic clatters to the floor and he bolts toward the side of the ship, terror coils in my stomach.

Don’t.

Don’t do it.

I push my chair out from the table, eyes still locked on him. I sense the toxic swirl of confusion and panic around me.

A woman is shrieking mostly incoherent words, barely audible above the other screams. I can only make out of few.

Help… drunk… selfie… overboard…

And then when—barely three seconds after he dropped the mic—Graydon climbs over the rail and launches off the ship, the scream that expels is from me.

Live. It’s the only word in my head—a command to him, knowing that the impact of the water is the greatest threat to a trained SEAL.

Please live.