by Anna Rezes
I stayed at a midlevel hotel, and the couple in the room next to mine were going at it like horny teenagers. It made me wonder where Oliver was at that moment.
Were he and Addison having makeup sex? Would he compare us? Would he think of me at all?
I don’t know which thought hurt more and decided it didn’t matter. I was the one to blame. I was a self-saboteur. I trusted another man and was fucked over again. It was enough to make me envious of lesbians even though I knew they had relationship drama just like everyone else.
Oliver
Everything happened so quickly. Addison and I didn’t have time to fall back into our normal routine because as soon as we got back to New York, it was a whirlwind to get ready and arrive at rehearsal dinner on time. With all the wedding plans, it was easy to forget the trip had happened. It was easy to ignore the unpleasant things.
No one besides Travis and us knew what the last week had entailed. Addison had kept everything on track, hiding our troubles from everyone. Part of me wondered if she was faking the pregnancy, but she showed me the five pregnancy tests she had taken, and I knew Addison wasn’t a liar. She may have hidden the truth about her and Travis, but she never lied about it. I had a hard time believing she would lie about the baby’s father, and she had offered to do a paternity test as soon as it was safe for the baby.
I hated that Travis had found out she was pregnant before I knew, but the bastard was there for her when I wasn’t. I knew he loved Addie in his own way. I just never knew the feelings were sexual. I never knew he’d stoop so low as to sleep with my girlfriend.
Addison loved me. I knew she did, and we were going to get married tomorrow despite my reservations because logically it made all the sense in the world. If I called it off, I feared I would regret it for the rest of my life.
I had trouble distinguishing what I was doing out of love versus obligation. But in the end, I knew I loved Addison, maybe not in the way I once had, but I still loved her, and she was going to have my child. We were starting a family together. Other people would die for this opportunity, and I couldn’t just throw it away. I had to give us a chance. If it didn’t work out, then we would figure that out later, but for now, we would try to make it work, and to do that, I would have to stop thinking about Willa.
I got my hair cut, an hour before our wedding rehearsal. My head felt naked without the long strands. It was still thick, but now it was only an inch or so long and my face was clean-shaven. With my dark hair coiffed just right, I put on the trendy suit Addison had laid out for me, feeling like a Cocktail Ken doll. All I was missing was an ascot, and I wouldn’t put it past Addison to have something like that planned for me.
I felt like I was living someone else’s life. Ever since I broke those plates with Willa, my eyes had opened to how passive I’ve been in my life. I’d let too many people make my decisions for me. It was easier for me to conform to their way than to form my own opinions, and I was okay with living that way until I met Willa and found out what it meant to experience life.
I needed to talk to someone, but I couldn’t go to either of the people I trusted most. I wished my grandma was still around because I could always confide in her. But without her, Addison, and Travis, no one was safe to talk to, not when everything was a secret.
Travis was still my best man, and he and I barely spoke the whole evening. I only found him beside me when it was deemed best man duty. He gave a convincing toast at rehearsal, and I believed that he loved Addie and me, but he also hurt us.
I smiled at the right times and went through the evening without incident. We were surrounded by good people who despite some superficial qualities, cared about us deeply and would be shocked and saddened if we called things off.
I stopped Travis before he could leave. He hadn’t brought a date which was unlike him, but I wasn’t surprised. With everything that had happened, he didn’t want a date to witness the terror I could reign down on him at any time. I wouldn’t do something like that to him, but the past week I’d acted so out of character that I didn’t blame him for being nervous.
“Thanks for the speech and playing the part,” I told him. “Then again, I guess you’re used to playing the role of best friend.”
He looked around. There was no one nearby, so he stepped forward. “Oli, I’m glad she told you. It’s been killing me, but I didn’t want to hurt you. I never meant for anything to happen.”
“Why did it happen?” I asked because Addison had been evasive about the specifics, saying it would only hurt to bring up details.
Travis said, “My feelings for Addison have always been complicated. She’s my only female friend, and sometimes the lines blurred. None of us are perfect. We all make mistakes, and sometimes we hurt the people we’re trying to protect.”
His words made me think of Willa and how I had hurt her. “I’m not the only one you hurt. This hurt all of us, Travis, and it’s fucked up all of our relationships. I don’t think I’ll ever trust you again and Addison is different, now. I miss the way things were, but we can’t go back.”
He winced. “I know.”
“Standing here with you, I wish I could forget or at least forgive you.” I shook my head. “But I don’t know how. I know it’s not all your fault, but I keep getting the urge to break your nose.”
He smirked. “You should wait until after the wedding. You don’t want to ruin pictures.”
I almost laughed, but my anger overpowered his joke. I wish it was that easy to fix our friendship, but his humor stung. I missed his wit, and I knew it would take time and effort to resurrect what we’d had.
Willa
I pulled into my parent’s house at two-thirty the next day. They lived on the same farm since they got married over thirty years ago. The blue ranch had a wraparound porch that was my mother’s pride and joy. She was always sitting out there and yelling to my dad out in the barn who couldn’t hear her anymore because he was half deaf. Bella jumped off the porch when she heard my car, and my mom stood from the porch swing, a lemonade in her hand.
I opened my car door and was immediately assaulted by Bella, who jumped in my lap and gave me kisses while her butt shook so hard it made her lose her balance and topple over, allowing me to get out of the car.
I gave her some love before getting my luggage from the trunk. She hopped alongside me up to the porch.
My mom had set down her lemonade and held her arms open wide, an invitation. I took the two steps onto the porch, dropped my suitcase, and fell into her outstretched arms, and even as much as I loved her, they weren’t the arms I wanted around me. She wasn’t Oliver. I hated him for making me fall in love with him. I cried into her shoulder as she held me.
My mom didn’t know the whole story. She just knew that Oliver went back to his fiancée, but she didn’t know all the in-between, and I wasn’t in the mood to relive how insane I’d been. I just wanted to lie down in my own bed.
“I made Chicken Marsala for dinner,” my mother chimed into my hair. “Your favorite. And there is pumpkin pie for dessert.”
“Thanks, mom. You didn’t have to do that,” I said, pulling away and wiping my tears.
She held my cheeks. “You will always be my daughter, and when you’ve had a bad day, I will do whatever I can to make it better. Food always makes me feel better.” She put her hands on her belly, “I guess that’s obvious.” She laughed a hearty laugh with an easy smile, and I wished I was more like her.
While I was growing up, people frequently asked if I was adopted. I hated the question, and I knew my mom didn’t care for it. It was just that I didn’t look like either of my parents. Not really. I was nothing like my mom. She had light hair and skin, a round face, with a sturdy figure. She was loving and boisterous while I was a shy child. I had more of my father’s quiet humor and personality, but I had a lot of my grandmother’s features.
My dad’s mother was black, and his father was white. My dad inherited the light skin of his father and the d
ark hair of his mother. Most people didn’t even know he was biracial, not that it mattered.
Then, enter me. I was born, and everyone wondered if there was a mix up at the hospital. No one expected my white parents to come home with a black baby. My skin wasn’t all that dark, but it wasn’t light either. It was enough to keep people guessing about my heritage, and it surprised me that Oliver never asked. I don’t volunteer it, because I hated the term mixed-race or biracial. Weren’t we all mixed-raced? I was just a person who didn’t want a label.
It had become a game to give obscure ethnicities whenever asked about my race. While filling out Bella’s paperwork at the veterinarian’s office, I was asked my ethnicity. I couldn’t think of a reason why they needed to know where my ancestors came from, so I wrote Komondor, which is another name for a Hungarian Sheepdog. That was a year ago, and still, no one has commented on it.
I left my mom on the front porch where she went back to reading her book and sipping her freshly squeezed lemonade. I pulled my bag along with me while Bella led the way. I walked through the living room and down the hall where dozens of framed photos hung, showcasing my childhood. It was overkill, but it was also a reminder of how much my parents adored me. I entered my childhood bedroom, closing the door before I dropped my suitcase by the closet and sat down on my bed.
I thought I’d breathe easier once I was home, but this wasn’t home. Neither was the house Evan and I shared. I needed my own place, and I needed to get ahold of my realtor to see how things were going.
I pulled out my phone to call him and after a quick chat found there was a bidding war going down. Apparently, it was everyone else’s dream home, just not mine.
I would start looking for a new place tomorrow. Tonight, I just wanted to be surrounded by the people who loved me the most. Perhaps my parents gave me too high of expectations. They loved one another so much, and they loved me even more. Growing up, I may have felt lonely sometimes, but I never felt unloved. I was smothered by it and just assumed that love would carry through to my adult life. So, the shock of finding out that love was fleeting wasn’t something I had prepared for.
Oliver
I didn’t back out. The morning went by in a scheduled blur of photographs and small talk. My parents looked so proud. Addison’s mother cried happy tears as she patted my cheek before the ceremony. Addison and I were meant for each other. This was the way things were supposed to be. Everyone knew it.
At one-thirty on the dot, Travis patted my back to get my attention when it was time for me to walk to the front of the church where I would wait for Addison. Once there, Travis leaned in, asking, “You okay?”
“I don’t know if I can do this,” I whispered back.
“Oliver, I know you. If you leave her at the altar, you won’t be able to live with yourself.”
The bridesmaids came down the aisle holding bouquets of purple roses. Everything was beautiful. The flower girl laid the petals just like Addison taught her the night before.
The music changed, and Addison came down the aisle. Travis leaned in, whispering, “You can do this Oli. You love her.”
Addison looked beautiful in her lacy fitted gown. She was gorgeous, and yet, I had no butterflies. Her father released her to me, and I took her hands in mine, trying to find those feelings I used to have, but they felt muted. Everything about her was dull in comparison to Willa.
Suddenly, I looked out in the crowd, wondering if she would show up and object to the wedding. I knew why I was doing this, but it felt so wrong. I was in love with Willa.
I was in love with Willa.
Addison tried to steady my hands as they shook, and tears came to my eyes. To the crowd, I looked like the sweet groom who was so in love that he cried at his wedding. And they were right. I was in love. It just wasn’t with the bride.
Addison’s eyes shimmered, and her eyes filled with fear. She knew. She knew I couldn’t do this. Maybe she felt we had come too far to turn back—caged into our commitment by wedding deposits and guest lists. Wedding gifts had already been delivered to our house. But here we were in the middle of our wedding, crying because we were making the wrong decision.
She was begging me with her eyes, pleading with me to see this through. She was so scared I would abandon her on her wedding day and the embarrassment we would both face as our friends, families, and colleagues watched our relationship fall apart.
I loved Addison. She was my first love. She was a staple in my life, and I couldn’t hurt her, so I hurt myself instead, the way I’d done for years, only now I knew what I was doing. Willa had opened my eyes. But I still felt a duty to Addison and now, our baby.
Addison and I recited our vows and said, I do. We kissed and walked up the aisle holding hands as the room cheered. I tried to steer her toward an empty room, but we couldn’t get away from people. The wedding coordinator ushered us around, keeping us busy talking to guests and thanking people for coming, but all the while, I kept wondering what we would do with our wedding gifts. What was wedding etiquette if the couple broke up before the reception?
We didn’t get a chance to talk. People surrounded us, and we rode to the reception in a limo with the bridal party.
Our first dance was the first time we were alone enough to talk, but we had hundreds of eyes on us. I held her tight and said, “Addison—”
“I know, Oli,” she whispered. “Just don’t do this here. Please,” she begged, tears in her throat.
At least she knew. We were deceiving everyone but each other.
Willa
I couldn’t help it. I pulled up Oliver’s Facebook page and witnessed everything that my imagination was telling me. He had gone through with the wedding. There were photos of the couple walking up the aisle as husband and wife. I wanted to say Oliver looked unsure, but it was most likely that part of me that was hopeful.
He had chosen her over me. I needed to deal with that. It would have been crazy for him to give up his love of the last eleven years to take a chance with a woman he’d known for less than four days.
The page refreshed and there was a photo of them dancing intimately. Their first dance. My nightmare.
I slammed the laptop shut and slid it across the desk. Papers scattered and some fell on the floor. I picked them up, coming across that damn baby shower invitation—the thing that started it all.
Had I not been so upset about the invitation, I wouldn’t have felt the need to get away, and I would never have met Oliver.
I pulled the card out of the shiny thick envelop because somewhere along the way; I had turned into a masochist.
There was a handwritten note in with the invitation I hadn’t noticed before. I unfolded it, and Evan’s handwriting stared back at me.
Willa,
I know this might be hard for you to process. I don’t expect you to come to the shower, but I didn’t want you to find out from someone else.
I love you, Willa. I always will.
Oh, Hell no!
I didn’t let myself think about it. All I had been recently was impulsive, so I continued my streak by gathering up the invitation and all its extra pieces. I grabbed my car keys and darted out the door. My parents were on the porch. They tried to speak to me, but I jumped in my car and peeled out of the driveway. I drove straight to the address on the return envelope.
Their house belonged in a storybook which only made me more bitter. It wasn’t right that he cheated but still got to live his happily ever after, while I was left to suffer.
I don’t remember getting out of the car, but the next thing I knew, I was standing on their big front porch pounding at the door, demanding answers. It took a while, but eventually, the door opened, and there stood Evan.
He looked the same as when he was my Evan, but he wasn’t the same. He couldn’t stand there and look at me with the face of my loving husband when he wasn’t either of those things. I slapped him, hoping it would make me feel better.
It didn’t.
I saw Estelle behind him, hiding down the hall. “Evan?” she asked, her voice hesitant.
He turned to her, saying, “It’s okay, honey. Give us a minute.”
She nodded and disappeared. Evan stepped outside, joining me on the porch. He closed the door behind him and turned to me. We stared at each other—neither of us knowing how to begin the conversation.
My anger fled as quickly as it had come, and I wish I could have hung onto it. When I wasn’t full of rage, I was sad, and I especially didn’t want to be sad in front of him.
I lifted the hand that still held the return envelope. I waved it in front of him, regaining a foothold on my anger. “A fucking baby shower, Evan!”
“Willa,” he was shaking his head, regret, and sadness in his expression. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“So, you thought prettying it up with an expensive invitation was the way to go?”
“I wanted you to find out when you didn’t have people watching for your reaction. I wanted to give you privacy to feel what you needed to feel.”
“Then send me a text, Evan, not a goddamn invitation!” I wiped my tears away. I hated that I cried when I was angry. It made me feel weak, and I didn’t want him to see weakness. I didn’t want him to think he could hurt me. I didn’t want him back, but I didn’t want him to be happy either.
“Willa . . . ” he choked, and I took a step back.
What the Hell? He was crying too. I didn’t understand. I shoved him, saying, “What do you have to cry about? You don’t get to cry!”