The Hate Vow by Nicole French

Twenty-Nine

“Ah…ah…girl, stop moving!”

Frederick finished the last of my blowout, which he had curled into haphazard, tousled waves. It was my favorite kind of haircut since I had grown my hair out long—a little shaggy in the front so I could get my Chrissie Hynde on for a night out, but long bangs that would cooperate nicely with the formal updo I had to wear with my dress.

“You owe me so many cocktails after this,” he informed me as he twirled the streak of deep, bright crimson he’d put at the base of my neck. “No one else but moi could have put this color back in your hair without making it fall out. Boxed dye. I still can’t believe you would do that to my masterpiece.”

“Well, it had been a few months,” I protested as he brushed the cuttings off my shoulders and onto the living room floor before he spun me toward the large mirror mounted on one of the bearing pillars. “My roots were showing.”

I didn’t mention that I’d also bowed to the pressure to conform. Freddy, with his skintight vinyl pants and fifteen separate piercings—two of which were currently evident through his shirt—wouldn’t get it. It was funny. Once I wouldn’t have thought I would get it either.

“Girl, isn’t your man heir to the damn earth? The answer is to fly home and have me do it right.”

Frederick finally pulled the cape from around my shoulders, releasing me from the chair while he swept the cuttings. I catwalked to the mirror over the fireplace, inspecting the cut. Some might say it was risky to get a haircut this close to my wedding, but this was Frederick we were talking about.

“You’re right,” I said with approval. “I should have come to you from the start.” I turned around, practically skipped over to Fred, and wrapped him up in a hug. “Thanks, my friend.”

“Girl, you know I got you covered,” he said. “Just say you’ll let me put you in my book, all right? And tell the damn papers loud and clear, okay?”

“What’s she going to tell the damn papers?”

We turned around to find Eric entering the apartment looking as dapper as usual in a navy suit and bright blue shirt. I grinned as the fire in my belly lit all over again. I was starting to wonder if this would ever get old.

Then he frowned as he strode toward me. “What happened? Why is it still just plain black?”

“Oh, no, he did not…” Frederick murmured under his breath while he finished cleaning up.

“It’s there,” I said. “I promise. It’s just underneath the black. I figured I wouldn’t piss Celeste off too much.”

“Let me see.”

I pulled my hair over one shoulder to show him the scarlet stripe in the back. Eric reached out a hand tickling the back of my neck as he wove his fingers around the colored lock. He tugged on it a little, and his eyes brightened, clearly reading the thrill that traveled through my body.

“Well, that’s some heat if I ever saw it,” Frederick said as he started packing up his equipment. “Honey, is it all right if I leave this here for the weekend, or are we getting ready at the hotel?”

My eyes still glued to the man examining my hair like it was a deadly weapon, I shook my head—as much as I could against Eric’s grip. He pulled tighter. “No, you can leave it here. We’re meeting at the hotel, but I can bring it.”

Frederick glanced between Eric and me locked in our silent standstill. “I better take it. Something tells me you’re only going to remember every other word of this conversation.”

Eric finally smiled. “You know, we could have our own celebration in here,” he purred as he leaned in, tracing his nose down my bared neck. “Go out. Pretend we’re still single. Give each other a solid one-night stand. Or three.” His teeth found my earlobe. “Just like how we started, right?”

I shivered, but not because I was cold. Three days away with my friends or three days of pure sex with Eric? It was sort of the perfect way to get lost in each other, which we hadn’t really been able to do…well, ever. Despite living with each other for the last several months, it still felt sometimes as if I was only getting to know him. His hours at the office took him away from the early morning until seven or later, even on Sundays.

But instead I pushed him away. “I think that’s what the honeymoon is for.”

In return, I received a sharkish grin. “Oh, I’m counting on that, Lefferts.”

“Where is the big location?” Frederick asked as he finished. “Tell me it’s Mustique or someplace like that, and I might slap you. The royals vacation there, you know.”

I smirked as Eric hopped onto a bar stool behind me. This week, Freddy sounded almost more Scottish than English. Eric wrapped me in his arms, trapping me between his legs.

“It’s not Mustique,” he told Frederick.

“Good. If it was, I don’t know if I could be friends with my girl anymore. Too fabulous. The envy alone might kill me.”

“My uncle owns an island in the Bahamas, so we’re going there,” Eric offered, like he was presenting a different sort of cocktail when a standard martini was turned down.

If looks could kill, we would have been dead. I just giggled while Frederick shoved the last of his equipment into his bag, muttering something about “rich damn white people” and Pirates of the Caribbean under his breath.

“All right, baby cakes,” he said as he headed out. “I’ll see you Sunday morning, bright and early. We’ve got work to do, so make sure you don’t party too hard this weekend, you hear?”

“See you, Freddy.”

I accepted my hairdresser’s kisses to my cheeks, and chuckled when Eric took one too. Frederick loved flirting—boys, girls, it made no difference. And Eric, unruffled as he always was, took it all in stride.

After Frederick left, Eric and I sat for a moment, enjoying each other’s company in silence. It was hard to believe the big day was almost here. We’d have some time to celebrate our last bit of freedom, meet up for the rehearsal dinner on Saturday, and the wedding on Sunday. Both of us knew it would be a blur, so it was nice to have a second to decompress before the insanity really began.

But despite an entire night’s worth of catharsis after Eric arrived like a storm cloud yesterday evening, I couldn’t shake the feeling he was trying to chase something away through sex. His thirst was basically unquenchable last night—even after our little heart-to-heart, he couldn’t be sated.

I closed my eyes with the memories. Hot wax. Cool breath. Eric was getting more creative, and I was responding.

He kissed me again, this time with a bit more urgency now that we had no audience. The tension from last night reappeared, and goose bumps appeared up and down my arms.

“There’s more where that came from, pretty girl,” he whispered before tracing my earlobe with his tongue. “I just need twenty minutes.”

For a second, I forgot to breathe. But before I could answer, my phone buzzed on the counter. I checked the screen. “Too slow, Joe. She’s almost here.”

Eric swore under his breath. But then his phone buzzed too. “Fucking hell. Brandon just pulled up too.”

“Can I just say, I think it’s pretty funny that your former boss is your best man?”

Eric shrugged. “I have other friends. You’ve met them. But Brandon and Skylar are some of the few people who’ve known us through everything. I thought it fit.”

I nodded. “It does. I’m glad.”

After we grabbed our overnight bags and locked up the apartment, we walked down to the street hand in hand, ready to party until the rehearsal dinner on Saturday night. Brandon was taking the boys—which included Eric, a few friends of his from school and Boston, Calvin (Nina’s husband), and a second cousin—to Vegas for the next few days. Skylar, meanwhile, hadn’t yet divulged what she had planned for my big night(s). I just knew our party was somewhat smaller, with her and the rest of the bridesmaids: Suejean, our friend Cherie from Harvard, and Nina. Since Suejean wasn’t able to take the time off for the bachelorette party, it was just the four of us.

It was such a strange feeling, I mused for what might have been the millionth time. All my adult life, I had been kicking men to the curb quickly—either I ran out the door, or they did. But with Eric, I didn’t want to let go. I didn’t like the idea of being without him for even a few nights.

I also didn’t know quite how I felt about that, marriage or no.

Brandon was waiting outside a large SUV on the curb. His giant body (the man was built like a tree) towered over the top of the car while he chatted with Steve Kramer, one of our friends from law school.

“There’s the man of the hour.” He greeted us with his usual effusive charm, his slight Boston accent coming through. “Vegas, here we come. I got some serious shit planned, my friend. Jane, don’t be surprised if this bastard doesn’t remember half of the next few days.”

“Just get him back in one piece, Sasquatch,” I shot back, earning a dirty look from Brandon and a snort from Eric. I turned to my soon-to-be husband. “Have fun with the boobs and the prostitutes and the gambling. If you’re smart, you should catch Cardi B. But really, try not to get chlamydia before our big day, all right?”

I tiptoed up and gave him a brief, benign peck on the lips, then turned quickly, not wanting him to see the genuine fear that had crept in. It was a joke, the Petri dish thing. That was all in the past now.

Sure…

“Jane.”

Before I could step completely away, I was yanked back into Eric’s arms for the kind of kiss that would stop traffic. When he was done, all my doubts had disappeared, and he framed my face with his hands, forcing me to look at him directly. Fear, yes, but mostly adoration shone clearly through those deep gray eyes.

“I love you,” he said, serious and still.

I blinked away the tears that pricked suddenly. “Eric, I—”

“I know,” he cut me off. “I just wanted to say it.” He released my face and smacked my ass a little harder than was necessary, earning some laughter from the SUV. “Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “So what does that really leave off-limits?”

Eric grinned as he backed away toward the SUV with a boyish shrug. I felt like the whole street lit up from his charisma.

“I’m not worried, pretty girl,” he called out. “Because when I see you next, you’re going to become my wife.”

Before I could reply, a big black limo pulled up behind Brandon’s car, and Skylar bounded out, a tiny ball of red-headed energy.

“Ah!” she cried as she caught sight of Brandon. “How did you beat us here? You had two other people to pick up, and we left at the same time!”

Brandon chuckled. Everyone did, actually. Skylar’s competitive streak was legendary, as was the fact that she could never best her husband.

“Two words, Red,” he said. “Express lanes.”

Skylar groaned, then turned to me with a fierce hug, hard enough to lift me off the ground.

“Wha!” I cried. “Need to breathe here!”

Skylar dropped me. “Sorry. I’m a little excited. It’s been a really long time since I’ve had a single night away from the kids and the ball and chain, much less a whole weekend.”

“Hey, I’ll show you a ball and chain,” Brandon protested, but quieted when Skylar sent him a look. “All right, all right, we’re leaving.”

Eric waved, disappeared into the SUV, and we watched the boys leave before Skylar turned back to me.

I bit my lip with glee. “I cannot wait to see what you have in store, Sky.”

She grinned. “Okay, but before we get in, I have to tell you something. I didn’t really have a choice here, so don’t get mad.”

“Mad about what?”

“I had to ask—”

“Surprise!”

Skylar and I both turned to find the back window of the limo rolled down, and none other than the face of Caitlyn Calvert popped out.

“Jane!” she cried, as always, a little too happy. A little too thrilled to see me. “I hope you don’t mind, but Nina said I could crash the party. Spa weekends are my absolute fave, and I haven’t been to London in forever!”

I smiled as politely as I could before she slid back inside to gab with Cherie and Nina.

Skylar turned back to me with a less than thrilled look on her face. “Well, now that the other cat is out of the bag…are you mad?”

I shook my head, too excited to be pissed off. I knew my friend. Inviting Eric’s ex…whatever you’d call her…childhood bestie with a minor crush? Skylar wouldn’t have done it without some pressure, probably from Nina and Celeste. But it didn’t matter. Caitlyn was a harmless, pearl-clutching nothing. And nothing was going to ruin this weekend. I’d be sure of it.