The Abandoned Groom Married his Ex's Enemy!

By the time Dominic Sebastian knocked over the glasses on his table, the reunion was almost over.

It wasn’t deliberate.

His hand simply moved farther than he intended, catching the rim of one glass and sending it into the next. Water spilled across the tablecloth while two glasses toppled sideways, one rolling dangerously close to the edge before someone caught it.

”Whoa.”

Mara reached over immediately.

”Dom, careful.”

”I’m fine.”

”You don’t look fine.”

”I’m fine.”

He said it more firmly the second time.

Unfortunately, his body wasn’t particularly interested in supporting the claim.

His heart had been beating far too quickly for the past several minutes. His palms felt damp, his chest uncomfortable, and a faint tremor ran through his fingers that grew more noticeable the harder he tried to control it.

Dominic looked toward the abandoned coffee cup nearby.

Two cups.

That had probably been a mistake.

He’d already consumed alcohol earlier in the evening, then switched to coffee after noticing Alexander wasn’t drinking.

Of course he’d noticed.

He’d been noticing Alexander all night.

What he ate.

Who he spoke with.

How often he laughed.

Where he stood.

And, more irritatingly, how frequently Giovanni Mercer happened to be standing beside him.

So when Alexander picked up coffee, Dominic had decided coffee was harmless enough.

Something familiar.

Normal.

Perhaps they could stand together for a few minutes and talk like two people who’d once known each other better than almost anyone else.

Instead, Dominic had managed to prove that he apparently didn’t even know how Alexander took his coffee anymore.

Black.

Alexander drank it black.

Dominic had brought him a cup loaded with milk and sugar.

He closed his eyes.

Christ.

Two years engaged.

Years together before that.

And he couldn’t remember something as basic as coffee.

Meanwhile, Giovanni had spent the drive to the reunion reminding Alexander to avoid peanuts.

Dominic had heard about that from Patrick, who’d found the whole exchange amusing after apparently witnessing part of it near the parking area.

Peanuts.

Giovanni remembered an allergy.

Dominic forgot coffee.

So much for winning him back.

”Dom?”

He opened his eyes.

Mara was still there, blotting the table with several napkins.

”Do you need anything?”

”No.”

”Water?”

Dominic almost laughed at the overturned glasses.

”I think I’ve had enough.”

She smiled cautiously.

”Maybe sit for a while before you drive.”

”I have a car service.”

”Good.”

That apparently reassured her enough to leave.

Dominic remained where he was.

He looked toward the other side of the basketball court. Alexander hadn’t noticed the commotion.

Neither had Giovanni.

They were saying goodbye to Mr. Arturo.

Of course they were.

The old caretaker sat near the entrance while one of the organizers prepared to accompany him to the car the class had arranged.

Alexander had bent slightly to hear whatever he was saying.

Giovanni was beside him.

Mr. Arturo reached out and caught Giovanni’s wrist before the younger man could straighten.

Even from a distance, Dominic saw Giovanni laugh.

Something unpleasant tightened inside him.

Mr. Arturo had always liked Giovanni.

Then again, Giovanni had spent an absurd amount of time at school even after classes ended.

Dominic used to wonder why.

Everyone else wanted to go home.

Giovanni wandered.

He visited the library. Stayed around the science room. Helped teachers carry things. Watched Mr. Arturo repair desks, doors, cabinets, broken handles, and whatever else students managed to damage.

The older man wasn’t a trained carpenter.

Or plumber.

Or electrician.

He simply knew enough about almost everything to make broken things functional again.

Jack of all trades.

Master of none.

Giovanni had loved following him around.

Dominic remembered walking past the maintenance shed once and finding them bent over a piece of old wood.

”What are you doing?”

Giovanni immediately moved his hand over whatever he’d been carving.

”Nothing.”

Dominic had laughed.

”If it’s nothing, why are you hiding it?”

”I’m not.”

”You literally covered it.”

Mr. Arturo looked between them, then pointed toward the door with a piece of sandpaper.

”Either help or stop bothering my worker.”

”Your worker?”

”Free labor.”

Giovanni had grinned.

Dominic left.

Only later did he learn why Giovanni had been practicing.

Alexander had proper lessons in sculpting.

A tutor.

Tools at home.

Giovanni wanted to make something himself.

Something good enough to show Alex.

Even back then.

Always Alex.

Dominic’s gaze returned to the two men.

Mr. Arturo patted Giovanni’s arm.

Alexander said something.

All three laughed.

Dominic looked away.

Patrick was next.

Giovanni clasped his hand, only for Patrick to pull him into a hug.

”Ysabella’s or Matteo’s,” Giovanni told him. ”Your choice.”

Patrick laughed. ”Are you inviting me or trying to steal trade secrets?”

”Benchmarking.”

”That’s stealing with paperwork.”

”I’ll feed you.”

”Then I’m available.”

They exchanged numbers.

Dominic watched that too.

He remembered Patrick’s sandwiches.

Everyone did.

What most people probably didn’t remember was why Patrick had begun bringing an extra one.

Giovanni stayed late.

Patrick noticed.

Then there was Elena with her books.

Samuel with his endless requests for homework help.

Mr. Arturo with his scraps of wood.

One person after another had apparently given Giovanni something small.

Food.

Books.

Skills.

Company.

And Giovanni remembered every single one of them.

Perhaps that was why they remembered him.

Dominic suddenly wondered what his classmates remembered about him.

Winning?

Probably.

Arguing with teachers over points?

Definitely.

Prom king campaigns he hadn’t even won?

Competitions?

Grades?

Dominic Sebastian wanting to be first.

Always first.

At seventeen, that had sounded admirable.

At his age now, he wasn’t sure.

His gaze drifted back to Alexander.

Giovanni had joined him again.

Naturally.

Why did it always have to be Giovanni?

The question was so old Dominic couldn’t remember when he’d first begun asking it.

Whenever Dominic achieved something, Giovanni seemed to be there.

Higher grade.

Better speech.

Another competition.

Another medal.

If Dominic joined something, Giovanni appeared too, sooner or later.

Swimming.

Debate.

Science.

Mathematics.

English.

Sports.

Giovanni never gloated.

Somehow, that had made it worse.

Dominic would’ve preferred arrogance.

Arrogance could be hated cleanly.

Instead, Giovanni would win and behave as though the victory had nothing whatsoever to do with Dominic.

As if Dominic hadn’t mattered enough to defeat.

He’d hated that.

And Alexander?

Alexander admired competence.

Everyone knew that.

Whenever Giovanni did well, Alexander noticed.

Whenever Dominic won, Alexander noticed too.

Somewhere along the way, being noticed had stopped being enough.

Dominic needed to be noticed more.

He needed to win.

Not merely against Giovanni.

Against everyone.

Because if there was only one first place, there was no question who mattered most.

He’d spent years calling that ambition.

Tonight, standing alone beside a wet table while Alexander left with someone else, it looked considerably uglier.

Across the room, Giovanni took Alexander’s coat from the back of a chair and handed it to him.

Such a simple gesture.

Alexander accepted it without thinking.

No grand display.

No attempt to impress him.

No flowers posted online.

No photographers.

No elaborate apology.

No crisis requiring rescue.

Giovanni simply knew which coat belonged to Alex and handed it over.

Dominic looked down at his own hands.

He’d known Alexander for years.

He’d been engaged to him for two.

And tonight he’d put milk in his coffee.

Dominic left alone.

The ride home passed in fragments.

Streetlights.

Traffic.

His phone vibrating several times.

Messages from classmates thanking everyone for attending.

Photographs already appearing in the group chat.

Dominic opened one.

The paper dance.

Giovanni carrying Alexander.

He swiped.

Another.

Alexander laughing with Elena.

Another.

Their old teachers.

Another.

The time capsule.

Then the final dance.

Someone had taken a photograph from behind.

Alexander’s arms were around Giovanni’s neck.

Giovanni’s hands rested at his waist.

Dominic stopped scrolling.

His chest tightened again.

He locked the phone.

Then unlocked it.

Looked once more.

Locked it again.

By the time he arrived home, his head hurt.

He poured himself a drink.

Then another.

He knew he shouldn’t.

The doctors had already told him what stress, alcohol, caffeine, poor sleep, and irregular meals were doing to him.

Therapy had given him techniques.

Stop.

Identify the thought.

Separate what happened from what you imagined it meant.

He tried.

Alexander danced with Giovanni.

Fact.

Alexander is replacing me with Giovanni.

Interpretation.

Dominic laughed bitterly.

Wonderful.

Knowing the difference didn’t make the second thought disappear.

He carried his glass upstairs.

In the bathroom, he turned on the light and stared at himself.

Still composed.

Still Dominic Sebastian.

Maybe a little pale.

Maybe tired.

Nothing sleep couldn’t fix.

He ran a hand through his hair.

Something caught between his fingers.

Dominic frowned.

He looked down.

Then screamed.