Keeping Secrets in Seattle

by Brooke Moss

  “Come in.”

  Kim walked into my room in her pajamas, a mug of coffee steaming in her hand. “You ready to go?”

  “I think so.” I nodded and avoided her eyes. “Nothing left to do but get hitched.”

  “Wow.” She chuckled and looked down at the box. “What’s this?”

  “I’m sending some things to Gabe this weekend. Will you make sure Betsy remembers to take this with her to work? She said that she’d send it.” I put one last piece of tape on the box and slid it toward Kim.

  She flared her nostrils. “What is it?”

  “Just some stuff Gabe needs to see,” I said, turning my focus on my suitcase.

  “Will do, darlin’.” Kim sipped her coffee. “I’m going to hit the shower. Love you.”

  I folded the dress carefully and laid it in my suitcase. “Love you, too. I’ll call…you know, after.”

  “You better.” She waved, then locked herself in the bathroom, leaving me in the quiet alone. I stared down at the box with Gabe’s address on it and fingered his name. By the time he opened that box and read those journals, I would be a married woman. Married to another man. A good man. A man I was lucky to have.

  But a piece of my heart was taped up in that box with my secrets.

  …

  “The ceremony before yours went long. Would you like some champagne while you wait?”

  I examined the woman holding two plastic champagne flutes filled with bubbly liquid under our noses. She looked like a woman who’d spent the better part of her adulthood in smoky bars and tanning beds, and her voice was as croaky as a lumberjack’s.

  “Thank you.” I took both cups and swallowed their contents in four gulps.

  Her black-lined eyes widened, and she topped them off again. “Congratulations.”

  “Landon? Champagne?” I wiggled the cup in his direction. “Bottoms up.”

  He watched me for a beat. I could tell that he was growing more and more concerned. During our limo ride from the hotel to the chapel, I’d just stared out the window at the blurry neon lights flashing. In the time since slipping into a beautiful turquoise dress with black lace overlay—and sidestepping Landon’s efforts to get me back out of it—the lump in my throat had morphed back into a ball of broken glass, scratching my throat raw.

  “Are you all right?” His voice was quiet.

  “I’m fine.” I swirled the cup. “Drink up.”

  He shook his head. “No, thank you.”

  Upon walking through the door, I’d had to run into the bathroom to splash cold water on my face and stuff tissues underneath my arms. I was sweating like a madwoman, even though I was inside an air-conditioned building. I was minutes away from marrying Landon. Thoughts of Gabe scrolled through my mind like a slide show, every memory we’d made together over the years. When Landon failed to grab his cup of the pinkish bubbly, I threw my head back and downed his portion in one gulp.

  He watched me with a scowl. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  I looked down. The weight of his stare was making me sweat even more, and the tissues under my arms were getting soggy. “I’ve already told you that I’m fine.”

  I glanced around the lobby, where the walls were covered in black vinyl and we were perched on a pink pleather couch. The woman who’d given us champagne lit a cigarette behind the counter and released a hacking cough.

  “Good grief. When is it our turn?” I shifted on the couch while Elvis declared someone husband and wife in the next room.

  Landon pried the plastic cups from my fingers. “You need some air.”

  Rolling my eyes to the ceiling, I barked, “No, I don’t. It’s ninety degrees outside, and I’m leaving pit marks on this dress. What I need is for Elvis to speed things up in there, so we can get this show on the road.”

  His hands went from my fingers, up my arms to my shoulders, which he turned so that I was forced to face him. “Talk to me. Are you—”

  “Awuh! You two are so darling,” the lady said through a plume of cigarette smoke.

  Landon’s eyes flicked from me to her, then back again. “Are you having second thoughts?”

  Bringing my eyes to meet his, there was a ragged edge to my voice. “I’ll be fine as soon as we get in that damn room and get this wedding over with.”

  His mouth turned downward. “Over with?”

  My eyes filled. I’d had entirely too much champagne on an empty stomach. “That’s not what I meant…”

  “You don’t want to do this, do you?” His grip on my shoulders tightened.

  “Of course I do.” I swiped at my eye with the back of my hand and realized that my mascara was melting. Deep inside my purse, my cell phone rang, and my fingers twitched, itching to answer it. Anything to remove myself from the discomfort I was presently submerged in.

  As I opened my mouth to respond, the doors to the next room opened, and a drunk couple came stumbling out of the chapel amidst a shower of confetti. A short, squat Elvis impersonator emerged behind the newly married couple, doing a less-than-stellar impersonation of The King as they made their way to the exit.

  “Is this my next hunka-hunka-burning love couple, Mavis?” His lip curled so high, it practically went into his nostril.

  She nodded and stubbed out her cigarette. “Sure is. They purchased the number five.”

  I cringed. My mother was going to kill me when she found out I’d ordered my wedding package like a value meal.

  “That’s us,” I told the fake Elvis with fake enthusiasm.

  Landon’s stare scalded the skin on the side of my face. “We need a few minutes.”

  Fake Elvis swiveled his hips, and his belly vibrated. “The King’s got a full schedule tonight, kids.”

  If he didn’t start moving toward the altar, I was going to lose it. “We are ready, sir.” I glanced at Fake Elvis’s sparkling white jumpsuit. “Er, Your Majesty.”

  He launched into an off-key version of “I’m All Shook Up,” and Landon released my arms. “Sir, I think we need a minute.”

  “We don’t need a minute.” I used a piece of tissue from my armpit to wipe the makeup off my face. Grimacing, I said, “We’re ready right now.”

  “But you’re almost in tears.” His voice was low and strained.

  “It’s her wedding day. She’s allowed to be emotional,” the woman behind the counter said, lighting another smoke. The smoke assaulted my red nose, and tears tickled at the backs of my eyes.

  “You’re not just emotional.” Landon touched my chin and made me look into his eyes. “You don’t want to do this.”

  My phone beeped again, and I scrambled to fetch it from my purse. It was an e-mail. From Gabe. I clamped my teeth down on my lips until they hurt. I wasn’t going to do it. I wasn’t going to break down in the middle of the chapel in front of Fake Elvis and his chain-smoking assistant, Mavis.

  “Do you love me, Violet?” Landon’s eyes were moist.

  This was killing me. It felt like there was a large animal sitting across my chest, crushing me. My phone beeped again.

  Landon’s eyes cooled. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

  I sniffled, reality setting in. It was a knife in the head. “Yes.”

  Fake Elvis deemed this moment worthy of a song, so he drew a breath and began singing “Fools Rush In.”

  Landon put a hand up in his face. “Do you mind?” Then, turning back to me, his frown deepened. “I’m going to ask you one more time. Do you love me?”

  In that instant, I could see Gabe’s face in my mind’s eye and sense his fingers sweeping across my cheek to brush a strand of hair back from my face. Every touch, every laugh, every kiss he and I had ever shared was burned into my brain.

  This wasn’t going to work. No matter how hard I tried, and no matter how deep into the woods I moved, I was never going to stop loving Gabe. It didn’t matter that he was marrying Alicia. The only thing that mattered was that I couldn’t live a lie. And marrying Landon would be a lie.

  �
��I’m so sorry.” I choked on a sob. “I never meant to hurt you.”

  Fake Elvis interrupted with the first few lines of “Are You Lonesome Tonight.”

  “Sir, could you please shut up?” I begged before guiding Landon a foot or two away from the white jumpsuit. “I do love you. It’s just that…I can’t marry you just to escape my feelings for Gabe.”

  He closed his eyes. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  The woman behind the counter announced, “No refunds!”

  There we were, crying in a Las Vegas wedding chapel while a chunky Elvis impersonator crooned. What a sight.

  I glared at the woman, then brought my eyes back to Landon’s pale face. “Landon, you deserve better. You deserve someone who loves you with her whole heart. I…I got so caught up in this whirlwind with you.”

  Fake Elvis’s head popped up next to Landon, his waist shaking and shimmying so much that he was brushing against me with his giant belt, while butchering “Don’t Be Cruel.”

  I whirled to face him. “Okay, I’m sorry, but I am going to kick your bedazzled ass in about thirty seconds…”

  The woman behind the counter pointed at me with a bright-red nail. “Nobody talks that way to the king!”

  I hoisted my purse up over my shoulder and pulled Landon through the glass doors just as another intoxicated couple stumbled inside.

  “Congratulations!” the woman slurred as we passed. The man beside her belched.

  As soon as we stepped through the doors, the ninety-degree heat hit me like a slap across the face. It was nearly eight-thirty at night and still stiflingly hot. I missed my cool, wet Seattle air.

  “We’re breaking up,” he said it matter-of-factly and dropped my hand. A statement, not a question.

  Nodding, I used the corner of my small fabric purse to dab at my eyes. “Yeah. I guess we are.” I took his hand and rested my head on his chest. Instead of pulling away, Landon wrapped his arms around me and pressed his face to my hair. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly. “I really thought I could make this work. I never, ever wanted to hurt you.”

  “You know he is marrying someone else, right?” His voice was flat. “You know that Gabe doesn’t want you.”

  His words hurt, even though I knew he was right. “I know. It doesn’t matter.” More tears leaked onto his dress shirt. “I don’t want to be with you for the wrong reasons, Landon.”

  We stood there in each other’s arms for the longest time, the Nevada heat soaking our clothing with sweat. Once we’d both stilled, I raised my face and kissed him softly. “I think it’s best if I go back to the hotel, pack my things, and head home.”

  He nodded. “I’ll miss you, Violet.”

  The animal on my chest lifted, and I could finally breathe. “I’ll miss you, too.”

  It was over.

  Chapter Nineteen

  November 8, 2003

  I hate Utah. My stepsisters are little twits, and my stepmother treats me like I’m totally unwelcome here. I’ve written and rewritten at least a dozen letters to Gabe since being here, but I keep chickening out on my way to the mailbox. Every time I talk to my mom on the phone, she says that Gabe is getting along fine without me. If I write to him and tell him what happened, it’ll just turn everything upside down, and then I’ll have to deal with the aftermath…

  I changed hotels and spent the next two days taking in some of the sights of Vegas completely solo. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go home to face my friends and family without a ring on my finger. Quite the opposite. The fact that I wasn’t married to Landon was a relief. At last, I didn’t have to pretend. I didn’t have to plaster a phony grin on my face and pretend that I didn’t long for something I couldn’t have. I might have been dumped three minutes before I was scheduled to walk down the aisle, but at least I was finally being true to myself.

  I sent my mother an e-mail explaining that despite what my previous e-mail had said, I wasn’t, in fact, getting married to the boyfriend she’d never met, and that I’d be home Sunday night for her to yell at me. I turned off my BlackBerry for a much-needed break and went off the grid for a few days. And so, between pity-induced cookie binges and crying jags, I took myself to see the Blue Man Group and Cirque du Soleil. I walked the strip alone, watching the pirate show outside Treasure Island, and had fresh gelato while receiving a foot massage in The Venetian.

  I arrived home from Vegas late night on Sunday to an empty apartment, which was how I wanted it. After calling them from the airport to tell my roommates that I was coming home unmarried, Betsy and Kim offered to pick me up, but I told them to go out with friends. I needed to be alone.

  I was single again. And Gabe was marrying Alicia.

  After dropping my bags in my bedroom, I ran a bath and meandered through the apartment as the tub filled. Next to the phone was a message from Chloe in Portland. She said she’d been trying to reach me on my cell, that the job was still available, and she wanted to know if I wanted the position. I chewed my lip as I stared at the electric bill envelope the message was written on. If I stayed in Seattle, I would be forced to see the happy couple at every holiday, every family barbeque, and every Mariners game I attended. There was a potential that I could walk into one of my favorite Seattle haunts, just to run into Gabe or Alicia, and the thought sent a shudder through my body.

  I didn’t want to see them together. I didn’t want to be in their sickening, opulent wedding. I didn’t want to see them kissing, or holding hands, or sipping steaming cups of Seattle coffee in the rain together. I would rather drown in the very bathtub I was filling than share my city with the happy couple.

  “I’m going to take that job.” As soon as the words left my mouth and echoed in the otherwise empty living room, my mind was made up. It was time for me to move on. Time for me to start a new life, away from everything that reminded me of my broken heart.

  Digging in my purse, I pulled out my BlackBerry and powered it on. As soon as the screen lit up, it vibrated and chimed my palm like a Vegas slot machine. One, two, three, four…my eyes widened as I saw the voice mail count go up to seventeen missed calls. I whistled softly. Twenty-three text messages. And they were all from Gabe, all sent this afternoon…

  I feverishly scrolled through the messages.

  I KNOW YOU’RE BUSY, BUT I GOT YOUR PACKAGE IN THE MAIL TODAY. CALL ME.

  I almost dropped my phone. “Oh, shit. The journals…”

  WE NEED TO TALK. CALL ME.

  I CALLED YOUR APARTMENT. KIM SAID YOU’RE COMING HOME TONIGHT. CALL WHEN YOU LAND. I NEED TO SPEAK TO YOU.

  VI…HOW COULD YOU HAVE KEPT THIS FROM ME? WHEN DO YOU GET IN? CALL ME ASAP.

  I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO SAY OR WHAT TO THINK. I’M SICK OVER THIS. CALL ME.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  I jumped about a foot in the air and walked over to the door. “Who is it?” I called, though I didn’t need to. I already knew who was on the other side.

  “It’s me.” Gabe’s voice was low and rough around the edges.

  My fingers shook as I unlocked the deadbolt and the chain. I swallowed and opened the door. It creaked like on an old scary movie, revealing the dim light coming from the hallway.

  Gabe just stood there with his arms hanging limply at his sides. His dress shirt was untucked under a suit coat soaked from the rain that was pouring outside. There were circles around his eyes, and his mouth was tight.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, craning my neck to see down the stairs. “Where’s Alicia?”

  Without saying a word, he walked silently into the living room, where he stood in the center of the room. It felt like he didn’t know where to look, so his gaze flitted from one spot to the next. He finally looked at me. “I’ve been trying to call you.”

  I swallowed the tractor-sized lump that was forming in my throat. “I know.”

  “My mom said that Leandra told her you called the wedding off. Why didn’t you pick up?”

  I looked away. “Talking to you
wasn’t on the top of my priority list.”

  I could feel Gabe’s eyes on the side of my head. Without another word, he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a worn leather journal, dropping an envelope and a few receipts on the floor, and opened it to the middle. The pages were ink-stained, dog-eared, and covered from top to bottom in my loopy, teenaged scrawl.

  All of the oxygen in my lungs escaped in a whoosh, and the room was suddenly stiflingly humid. When I opened my mouth to speak, the words clumped up in a ball, and I had to clear my throat before I could go on. “Listen, I—”

  “How could you keep something like this from me?” Gabe grimaced as he spoke, making it look painful.

  My heart sank to the bottom of my stomach like a boulder, and I wrapped my arms around myself. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to keep it a secret. My mom—”

  “Your mother was wrong.” His voice cracked, and it became clear to me that he’d been crying. The sight of him so upset rattled my insides. “Dead wrong.”

  “I know she was,” I whispered. “I trusted her judgment. I-I thought that if we told you, you’d go after Cameron. And if your parents found out, they would come unhinged and try to have Cameron sent to jail, and—”

  “And that would have been a bad thing?” Gabe gaped at me. “You guys let him go free! You let me stay friends with him all this time! Do you understand how messed up that is?”

  “Of course I understand.” My voice shook. “It happened to me, remember?”

  For the briefest of seconds, his expression softened, and I thought for a moment that he was going to hug me. I was out of luck. “I know it happened to you.” He paused and looked around. “Is there water running?”

  “Oh!” I darted to the bathroom and turned off the water in the nearly overflowing bathtub. When I returned to the living room, Gabe was sitting on the edge of the couch with his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.

  “Gabe?” I said, approaching him. Goose bumps covered my arms, and the boulder in my middle grew even heavier.

  “I just don’t understand how you could have kept it from me for so many years,” he said. “Is this why you changed?”