Page 6 of Groomsman to Groom
I still can’t believe I’m here. For so long, everyone kept saying that there’s more than one fish in the sea, but it was hard to wrap my head around my devastating grief over Sarah.
A lot of Bingeflix, boxes of Kleenex, and years of therapy later, I understand she’ll always be in my heart, but I know I have room for another. Thereissomeone else for me, and I’m hellbent on finding her. With August pushing me, I’m busting myself out of the rut I’ve been in for the past three years—and it feels damn good.
Mostly good, except the skintight boxers that’re cutting off circulation to parts I’d prefer to keep functioning. Skye, famous in her own right and the show’s host, is leaning in to tell me something when Tanya, our high-strung on-site producer, calls out, “Two minutes!” She taps her headset. “Remember to smile. America fell in love with your smile.”
America fell in love with the pixelated blur over my crotch, but sure, let’s go with my smile.
I tug at the bowtie that’s plotting my strangulation, along with the knowledge that my nine-year-old son will watch this circus later. Although I promised to fast-forward through any “steamy” parts.
“You good?” Tanya’s eyebrows perk so high they’re practically part of her hairline.
“Never better,” I lie, channeling my inner Vulcan to suppress the anxiety bubbling under my skin. That’s how I’ve gotten through most of my life—compartmentalizing emotions whenthey threaten to overwhelm me. It worked when my dad left. After my wife died. After I became a single dad overnight.
The first limo pulls up, and here we go. Game face on.
Skye, her bright pink gown a splash of color against the blue stone driveway, looks into the camera and says, “And it’s time for our star, Hayes Burke, to do what he came to do—find his soulmate. Will he or won’t he? Only the universe knows his path. The rest of us will have to watch to find out.”
“Hayes Burke,” Tanya whispers, “if you don’t smilerightnow, I will personally ensure your photography website experiences a mysterious and permanent crash.”
I muster my most charming grin. The camera guys give thumbs up. The door opens.
The first woman steps out of the car, flipping her long blond hair in the breeze and flashing me a fluorescent smile. She’s sporting a little more spray tan than I normally like, but she’s gorgeous… and perky.
She approaches me and says, “Hayes. You’re even more handsome in person than you are on TV. Oh, my God—I’m so, so, so excited to be here.” She yanks me into a hug and giggles.
When she pulls away, I hold my smile when I say, “And you are?”
“Gabby. And doIhave a surprise for you.”
My stomach clenches. I know to be prepared for whatever wild things these women will do to get my attention, or launch their careers in showbiz, but I’m not sure I’m ready for that part. I just want to see who I have genuine connections with, so I steel myself and say, “Let’s see it.”
“I’m last year’s Miss Iowa, and I’m going to show you how I earned that crown.” She whips off her long coat, showing her sequin bikini and magazine body that I usually find too thin, but it suits her.
My eyes bulge from shock as she struts along the pavement before pivoting at the corner. She puts a hand on her hip and says, “First place in the bikini contest. What do you think?”
“I can see why you won.” Forcing a grin, I hope my nerves aren’t showing. I’m super uncomfortable, but hey, she does look like a pageant princess.
What follows is a parade of gorgeous women with increasingly elaborate entrances. There’s Jordan, a pediatric nurse who makes me take her pulse—racing, apparently, because of me. A financial analyst who tosses actual money in the air as she steps out—weird flex, but okay. Taylor, a yoga instructor, does a full split on the driveway, which is impressive, if slightly terrifying.
I’m saying all the right things—I hope. Complimenting dresses. Laughing at jokes. Pretending I’m not freaking out as woman after woman tells me they’ve “followed my journey” and “knew we were meant to be” from the moment they saw me heroically urinate on a stranger—which, as it turns out, doesn’t even help a jellyfish sting. Who knew? Definitely not me, but the old man was so shocked it ended up distracting him, so I guess it was a win?
Limo number five arrives and out steps a woman in a shimmering silver dress that catches the light like she’s wrapped in foil. Her red hair frames a face with a smattering of freckles, and she’s clutching a handkerchief like it’s her security blanket.
“H-hi Hayes,” she says, voice quavering. “I’m Annabelle. From Alabama. My mama says I should be myself, so here I am, nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.” She lets out a little hiccup-laugh. “I promised myself I wouldn’t cry, but—” Her eyes well up.
“Hey, no, it’s okay,” I take her trembling hands. “I’m nervous too. Wanna know something?” I lean in. “I’ve been practicing introducing myself to my bathroom mirror for a week.”
This gets a genuine laugh, and the tears stop… sort of. Five successful human interactions down, twenty-five to go.
The night blurs as more women arrive. There’s Kavita, who hands me a custom bobblehead of myself—slightly unnerving but points for creativity. Then someone calls out, “Winter is coming... and so am I.”
I turn to see a woman wearing a striking platinum blond wig cascading down her back in intricate braids. She’s wearing a blue dress that seems to float around her, and there’s no mistaking the cosplay.
Holy hell.I could see how this might be corny, but she rocks it with her beautiful porcelain face and banging curves. “Khaleesi,” I say, genuinely impressed. “Mother of Dragons.”
She curtsies. “I’m Luna. And unlike Daenerys, I don’t plan on going mad with power if I win your heart.” Her smile is dazzling, confident. “Though I might still want to ride a dragon.”
I almost choke. “That’s, uh—”
