by Loretta Lost
Nausea tugs at the contents of my stomach, and I try very hard to keep from upchucking them directly into Brad’s handsome face. “That’s nice,” I manage to say with a pained smile. “Thank you.”
“I know how much you hate being alone,” Brad tells me as he touches my chin. “You never will be again. By the way, did you see the dress I chose for you? I spent a lot of time searching, but when I saw it, I knew it was the one. Isn’t it just your style?”
Damn him straight to hell. The dress actually is just my style. I hate the fact that he knows this.
I hate the fact that we have anything in common.
“It’s nice,” I say through gritted teeth, forcing myself to smile.
“Nice?” Brad says softly. “Nice?! It’s a motherfucking masterpiece!” He draws his hand back and slaps me hard across the face.
I stumble back against the window, holding my stinging cheek in surprise.
“Look what you made me do!” Brad says in frustration.
Gazing up at Brad with hatred, I try to keep my face expressionless.
I am not sure how it is possible for him to present such a refined and flawless exterior, while every fiber of his interior is so putrid. His face and body are perfectly shaped and symmetrical, but I am positive that his soul is hideously twisted and deformed. He even smells good—a masculine scent of musky cedarwood and spicy cinnamon—but I am sure that he is rotting to the core.
Brad is a contradiction.
What is fashion or beauty worth, if none of it is true? Attractive appearances just hide reality and put naïve idiots like me in danger of trusting the wrong people. I think that once, a few weeks ago, before I learned the truth about Brad, I might have actually begun to care for him. I was so foolish. The idea now sickens me so much that it brings tears to my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Brad says softly, reaching for my arms. “I wish you hadn’t forced me to do that, Carmen. A wife should appreciate the efforts of her husband. Don’t you know that? I guess Grayson didn’t teach you properly. But don’t worry; you will have plenty of time to learn how to be a good wife to me.”
“Is that so?” I ask him in a quiet voice, trying to mask my sarcasm. “Great. I can’t wait to learn.”
Brad moves forward and grasps me gently by the neck, looking into my eyes hungrily.
“Just you wait, Carmen. I’m going to break you… like a horse,” he whispers. “You’re going to be loyal, obedient, and submissive. You’re going to love me.”
I stare at him with defiance and disgust. I realize that I need to keep my mouth shut, because I can’t risk offending him. Not until I know that he’s no longer a threat to anyone.
“Let me help you into your wedding dress,” Brad says gently, moving to the bed to collect the white garment.
As soon as his back is turned, I look around for anything that can be used as a weapon. There is a small chair nearby, and I consider lifting it and using it to club his head.
Not yet, Grayson’s voice says in my head. It’s not the right moment. Be patient.
The voice makes me hesitate as I am reaching for the chair. I wonder whether or not it would cause enough damage. I am not fast enough to think or act, and Brad turns around with the dress in his hands.
“Come here, Carmen,” he orders me. “Let me help you into your gown.”
I look around desperately, searching for another option. Grayson, I ask inwardly. What do I do? I can’t actually go through with this madness! I’m already married. To you.
Just be patient, Carmen. Go along with it. You’ll have your moment soon.
Closing my eyes in misery, I step forward and allow Brad to help me into my wedding dress. I have to hold my breath and try to keep from shuddering when he places creepy kisses all over my body as he dresses me.
I can’t believe this is happening. Kill me now. This is so humiliating that I really wish I was dead.
And more than anything, I wish I could take Brad down with me.
Soon, Grayson’s voice says in my head. Soon, my love.
Chapter Eleven
Carmen Winters
The cathedral is gorgeous, and beautifully decorated. It is an intimate event with a harp player, flowers, and ribbons everywhere. It is actually far lovelier than my actual wedding was.
It’s also completely insane.
Brad is treating this event with such reverence. Has he forgotten that he never even asked to marry me? I guess that sort of thing doesn’t really matter to a man like him. A woman’s willingness is irrelevant.
He just wants me to be his property. And with a few more words, I basically will be. In his mind, and on paper.
The priest has been conducting the ceremony, and I have been scanning the room for a way out. It’s getting to the important bits, and I’m getting desperate. His voice has been droning on, and I have been ignoring the words as though they are playing on a TV or radio in the distance. I’d really rather not be listening.
“Do you, Bradford, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
I can’t do this. What the hell is going on? I can’t be patient! I can’t let this happen.
“To live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony?”
This is not just controlling and cruel, but insulting. My husband just died. Brad was his so-called friend. I suppose that Grayson’s death was just convenient for him. I never expected that I would feel so much emotional agony in being forced to stand at the altar with another man. It really makes me realize how much I loved my husband.
“Do you promise to love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her, in sickness and in health; forsaking all others as long as you both shall live?”
My eyes fixate on a candlestick that is on the altar behind the priest. It’s not very heavy, but maybe if I smash it down on Brad’s head enough times, I could render him unconscious. Or worse.
“I do,” Brad is saying proudly.
The priest is turning to me. I fix him with a furious stare, and I almost feel as though I might smash the candlestick down on his head too if he dares to ask me that question.
“Do you, Carmen, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
That’s it. I’m going for the fucking candlestick.
“To live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony?”
Grayson’s voice infiltrates my mind with a warning: Don’t do it, Carmen! Just be patient. You’ll get your chance, but this isn’t it. Just go along with all of Brad’s bullshit until you can find the right moment.
“Do you promise to love him, comfort him, honor, and obey him, in sickness and in health; forsaking all others as long as you both shall live?”
“Fuck, no,” I say angrily, diving for the candlestick and ignoring the ghost in my mind. When my fist grasps around the silver base, I twist my body and bring the classy club down on Brad’s head with all the force I can muster. He is so startled that I am able to strike him, and I immediately lift my arm to bludgeon him again. I focus on the image of his skull being bashed in with the weight of the candlestick as I strike him, but I quickly find my body being wrapped up in strong arms, and my hands being restrained. “Let go!” I scream as I flail around, trying to hit my attacker.
It is the harp player and the priest. They are both assisting Brad in restraining me. I can’t believe it. Who are these people? How much is he paying them? Brad has been dizzied, and it takes a moment for him to clutch his battered head and rise to his feet. He glares at me furiously, reaching out to grasp my neck.
“You bitch!” he roars. A little trail of blood runs down his forehead from where I hit him.
I got him pretty good. I was so close. My chest heaves with the exertion, and a bit of sweat soaks the back of my expensive wedding dress. I was so close.
Reaching into his blazer, Brad retrieves a small gun. He places it against my shoulder, smiling sadistically at me. “I would recommend that you change your answer, Carmen. If y
ou don’t agree to marry me, I’ll shoot you in the shoulder. It won’t kill you, but it will hurt your pretty little body quite a lot. If you still refuse after that, I’ll shoot your other shoulder. Then of course, we can move to your kneecaps and elbows. It’s up to you, my darling. Do I need to convince you?”
I told you to just go along with it, Grayson tells me sadly. There’s no way you can win. Not in this moment. Now you might have lost your only chance. Why can’t you be more patient, Carmen?
Marriage is special to me, I inform the disembodied voice in my mind. I only ever wanted to be married to you. But you ruined that. You ruined my life. If you were here, none of this would have happened. You could have protected me from him. But now, look at this mess. Why did you leave me, Grayson? Why were you such a selfish prick? Why do you get peace, when I have to live in this hell?
Shutting my eyes tightly, tears begin pouring down my face.
“Ask the question again!” Brad commands the priest.
The priest releases my arm and steps away, sending me a look of pity. He clears his throat. “Do you promise to love him, comfort him, honor, and obey him, in sickness and in health; forsaking all others as long as you both shall live?”
My head hangs low in defeat. “I do,” I whisper reluctantly.
“Good,” Brad says, moving the gun away from my body. He turns to the priest and barks an order. “Take her old wedding ring off and replace it with mine.”
“No!” I whisper, pulling away from the priest in fear. I am held fast, and I begin fighting desperately against the man who is holding me. “No!”
Brad’s face grows angry at my insubordination. He immediately balls his hand up into a fist and draws his arm back in preparation to deliver a mighty blow.
I don’t even have time to react before his fist is connecting with my cheekbone, and the world is spinning into darkness.
Chapter Twelve
Dr. Owen Phillips
“Are you looking for Carmen? Grea…” I rip the phone away from my ear as the cheerful sound of Carmen’s voicemail echoes in my mind. I check to see just how many times I’ve called her in the last two days and I’m surprised and ashamed that the number is well over three hundred. I must be really desperate if I am calling a woman, one who clearly wants nothing to do with me, that many times.
With every hour that passes, I can feel Carmen slipping further away from me. If I had my car, I would have driven over to her house and demanded that she talk to me by now. I’m feeling seriously handicapped without my wheels, and I can’t even ask Liam for a ride while he’s way out in the middle of nowhere.
Sometimes I get this nagging feeling in my gut that something could be wrong, but I’m probably just overreacting. I’ve gotten the serious radio-silence treatment from girls in the past, when they decided to ditch me after a few dates. The Owenmeister is an acquired taste that doesn’t appeal to most women. After the harsh things that Carmen said to me on the morning she disappeared, I am beginning to believe that she might be one of them.
“Hey, loverboy,” Caroline’s familiar voice calls out from the other room. I flinch at the affectionate nickname and the way she pretends that nothing has changed. “Is everything alright?”
“Of course it is!” I say with false enthusiasm as I glance down at the kitchen counter. “I’m just getting into an epic battle with this pickle jar, but I’ll take it down.” I actually did feel like snacking on pickles a little earlier, but the lack of response to my phone calls has killed my appetite. I am not sure whether I should get rid of my obsessive, almost stalker-like determination to contact Carmen. She must be sick of me by now.
“Well, hurry back,” Caroline says playfully. “I have a surprise for you.”
I know the tone in her voice all too well; she’s trying to seduce me. Perhaps a couple of months ago, this tactic would have worked on me, but I can’t even seem to find the energy to get aroused anymore. The past few days have been rough. Carmen’s disappearing act, my car breaking down, and covering for Liam at work have left me feeling like little more than a zombie. At least Caroline considers me a ZILF.
“I’m sorry, babe,” I say as I walk into the living room. “I’m just not feeling it right now.”
I see her standing there in surprisingly normal clothing for a seduction technique.
“Silly boy,” she tells me lightly. “That’s not what I meant. I know that you’ve been under a lot of pressure lately and that… we haven’t been on the best of terms. I thought that I could plan something special to make you feel better!”
My brow arches in confusion as I stare at her face, so brightly lit with excitement. “So why the sexy voice with promises of a surprise? Has Christmas come early?” I’m not in the best form lately and the joke feels awkward and stiff. I just can’t seem to give a damn enough to be funny anymore.
“Maybe,” she says softly. “I’ve been trying to find the right time to tell you this, but my papa was awarded a family cruise recently. Just a brief, lazy tour around the Caribbean. He invited the two of us, and I decided it would do us both some good if we got away. ASAP. There’s even space on a cruise that leaves tomorrow. I think we need some time to reconnect and relax after all that’s happened.”
Something about the idea of being trapped on a boat with my ex-girlfriend and her family seems very unpleasant. “I don’t know, Caroline,” I say dubiously. “You know I’m not really one for boats.”
“I know,” she says gently, closing the distance between us. She places her hand against my arm and lightly strokes my bare skin. “But it would mean a lot to my parents if we went, and I know you could use a real vacation. You’ve been going crazy lately.”
“Well, yeah,” I say with an attempted light hearted chuckle. “That kind of happens when your life goes to hell in a handbasket.” There is such a hopeful look on her face, and I feel a little guilty about disappointing her. All I want to do is visit Carmen and make sure that she’s okay. I clear my throat and shake my head firmly. “I’m sorry, Carol. I was planning on going car shopping this weekend.”
She shakes her head slowly. “I think you need time to grieve the old girl before you jump into a new driver’s seat,” she says kindly. “Come on this trip with me. I know you have some vacation days, so I already called your work and made sure they wouldn’t mind. I told them you were way too overworked, and needed a break. It’ll be good for us to get away from it all and figure out how to get back on track.”
Maybe she’s right, I reason to myself. I’m not really over my car; the idea of driving something new so soon, makes me feel a little queasy. And maybe it could be good to get away from this mess. Every time I think that life can’t possibly get any worse, it manages to prove me wrong. “Alright,” I finally say. “I’ll go.”
“Yay!” Caroline squeals, throwing her arms around me. “I’ll go call my parents and let them know.”
It amazes me just how chipper she can be after all that has happened. Less than a week ago, she was throwing herself at my feet and I was being a total dick to her. Now, she acts as if things are back to normal. She acts as if we are together again. Has nothing changed? I suppose it hasn’t. I’m still the same pathetic guy I always was, letting her walk all over me.
Once she’s out of the room, and I can hear her chatting in an excited voice to her father in the other room, I pull out my phone. A sigh escapes my lungs as I place my thumb over the name Carmen, in my recent calls. The phone rings for several agonizing moments until the all too familiar voicemail message is produced from the speaker.
“Are you looking for Carmen? Great!”
Is this really what my life has become? A ridiculous soap opera where I have one perfectly fine woman in my life, but covet another? Caroline is right; I need time to grieve, but it isn’t for my car. I don’t know what I did to upset Carmen and make her leave, but she clearly has no intention of ever letting me make it right. She abandoned me, and it has really put things in perspective. As unhapp
y with Caroline as I’ve been in the past, she’s always been there for me.
Being there is all that matters, in the end.
I should probably try to make this work. No more phone calls to people who obviously don’t want to talk to me. I need to focus on the woman who does want to talk to me. This new determination causes my lips to lift up and the pressure in my chest becomes more manageable. Maybe this is what my story with Caroline needed to progress; a little drama to shake things up and make us learn to appreciate each other more. And some time away, having fun, and trying our best to remember why we fell in love in the first place. Trying our best to fall in love with each other again.
Caroline comes back into the room with a bright smile lining her face. “We’re on for tomorrow. Our flight to meet my parents is at seven in the morning.”
“Zero dark thirty it is!” I say, trying to match her eagerness. “Hey, Caroline,” I tell her in a soft voice. “I’m glad you talked me into this. You’re right. Getting away is a good idea.”
“I know, loverboy,” she says in a suggestive voice. Her arms wrap around me, pulling me into a tight embrace. “I missed you, Owen.”
She’s said this to me every day since I stepped back into the apartment and found her lying on the bed with a bottle of pills in her stomach. The truth is, I’ve missed her, too. I was just too caught up in something I couldn’t control to realize it. I hug her back and press my lips against her the top of her head. “Of course you missed me,” I say with a wobbling of my eyebrows. “I’m freakin’ fabulous.”
“Goofball,” she says softly, her arms tightening around me even more. “Will you take me shopping later this evening so I can get a new bikini?”
The idea of seeing my beautiful sort-of-ex-girlfriend trying on an assortment of beachwear is very appealing. “I’m sure I can find the time in my busy schedule to take on this responsibility.”
“You won’t regret it,” she says in her husky German accent.
Even after all of this time, that voice still gets me. A nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me that there is something missing, but I force it out of my mind and concentrate on the incredible woman right in front of me. “I’ll go get us a cab.”