by Roxy Sloane
Andre looks pale. Message received. “No, no, I can make magic happen,” he insists. He snaps his fingers, and two assistants come running. “Let me take care of it. You’ll have the fairy-tale wedding of your dreams.”
Sylvia nods. “Good, now let’s see about this dress.” She inspects the gown someone just brought out to show her. “Too much lace. Try another.” She turns to me with a critical eye. “Winter white just washes you out. We need a warmer hue, don’t you think?”
“Yes.”
“Absolutely.”
“You have such a great eye.”
The chorus goes up from the other women here with us. Sienna, and some of Max’s cousins. I don’t even know the names of half the people in my bridal party, but that doesn’t matter, I guess.
“But do they come in larger sizes?” Sienna pipes up. “Chloe doesn’t really have time to lose weight now, does she?”
An assistant comes around with champagne, and I gladly grab a glass.
“Are you sure you should be drinking that?” One of the identical blonde cousins widens her eyes.
“Why not?” I take a gulp. Champagne is about the only way I’m going to numb the pain in my chest and make it through this sham of a dress fitting.
“You know . . .” The woman looks meaningfully at my midriff. “The big surprise.”
“The what now?” I stare in disbelief. She thinks I’m pregnant?
“Well, you guys did suddenly move up the ceremony,” she says, frowning. “Isn’t that the reason why?”
“Nope.” I take another swig. “We’re just madly, crazy, head over heels in love.”
“Oh.” She blinks, and I drain the glass.
“Another one over here,” I beckon, holding it out for a refill. I can feel Sylvia’s disapproving stare, but for once, she’s the least of my problems.
Asshole blackmailing ex trumps icy grandmother-in-law-to-be, every time.
There’s a noise outside the room, and then Amanda comes barreling in. “Sorry I’m late!” she cries. “What have I missed? Ooh, cake!” She spies the pretty display of afternoon tea. “And champagne. Awesome. So have we said yes to the dress yet?”
Sylvia gives her an icy glare. “It’s very rude to be unpunctual. Everyone else is already here.”
“Whoops.” Amanda doesn’t seem concerned. She bites into a cupcake and grins. “Chloe doesn’t mind, does she? After all, it’s her big day.”
She narrows her eyes, challenging Sylvia. For a moment, I think it’s going to be war, but then the designer comes rushing back in with a new gown. Sylvia is distracted.
“Yes, better. Chloe, try this one.”
Reluctantly, I get up and follow to the dressing room. Amanda grabs the bottle of champagne and joins me. “I’ll help!”
When we’re alone, I can finally exhale. “Shit, I’m sorry,” Amanda whispers. “I couldn’t get away from work. How are you holding up?”
I take the champagne and drink straight from the bottle. She winces. “That bad?”
“The worst.” I find myself on the edge of tears again. “I can’t believe I’m going through with this. The dress, the planning . . . there’s really no way out.”
“Are you sure?” Amanda looks pained. I told her everything—I had to. I may be able to fool the Mainwarings, but Amanda knows I’d never willingly walk down the aisle with that asshole. “I still think you should tell someone. Go to the police. He’s blackmailing you!”
“I can’t risk it.” I despair. “You know Max, he’s petty and cruel. All it takes is for him to hit send, and that’s it. There’s no taking it back once that video is out there. It doesn’t matter if the police investigate or find him guilty of anything. I’m still on the internet in an X-rated video.”
Amanda hugs me. “I’m so sorry, babe. I hate that you’re going through this. Maybe if we told Jase—”
“No!” I yelp. “You can’t. Please. He got angry enough just knowing about the affair with Aleksander. If he saw the video, I don’t know what he’d do.”
Except I do. He would take them apart, piece by piece, and as much as I’d love to see that happen, I couldn’t live with myself when he had to face the consequences. “I don’t want him to wind up in jail for beating the crap out of Max and Alex. He’d ruin his life, all because of me.”
Amanda sighs. “So there’s really no way out of this.”
“There really isn’t,” I agree sadly. We both take a drink, and then she helps me into the dress. She shudders.
“That thing is hideous.”
It really is. Layers of silk and lace swirling around like the frosting on those fancy cupcakes outside. “Maybe it’s a good thing if I hate it,” I decide, looking at my reflection. “I couldn’t bear it if I liked anything about this sham wedding. At least this way, it still feels like an act.”
“Chloe!” Sylvia’s voice comes. “We’re on a schedule here!”
I share a look with Amanda. “On with the show,” I say, resigned, and go to play happy bride while inside, my heart aches so much it hurts to breathe.
*
After the dress, we taste cake samples and approve fabric swatches for the reception décor and do a million other things that I couldn’t care less about. The day passes in a blur until finally, I have a moment to escape.
“Don’t forget your bachelorette tea tomorrow!” Sienna gives me a tight smile. “We have a ton planned!”
“I’ll be there,” I promise. I just can’t say I’ll be a) sober, or b) happy.
I should head straight home to change, but I take a walk down by the river instead. I need to clear my head, away from all this wedding stuff. I’m hoping it will make me feel better, but as I walk, there’s still the same hard knot in my stomach.
This is all wrong.
I was never one of those kids who daydreamed all day about their perfect wedding. It seemed way too far in the distance to pay any mind to, and even once I got older, I was more obsessed with ballet tutus and pointe shoes than a wedding dress or veil. But I’m pretty sure I always thought that when I walked down the aisle, it would be to marry a man I loved, not because I was being blackmailed with a sex tape that could wreck my whole life.
I take a seat on a bench and stare at the grey water. I’ve been over it a thousand times in my mind, but I still don’t see a way out.
Maybe it won’t be so bad, I tell myself. Max was right about the insurance policy. Once that ring is on my finger, he wouldn’t dare risk leaking the tape. Not if it threatened the Mainwaring family’s reputation. So if I just suck it up and play my part, this could all be over in a few months.
If I think of it like a performance, perhaps I can make it through. I show up, say my lines, smile on cue, and wait for the curtain to fall.
And hope I don’t strangle Max for being such a cruel, heartless asshole before the divorce is final.
But still, even though rationally it all makes sense, my heart still hurts to think of it. Every minute—every day—I spend living this lie is a day I don’t get to have what I really want in life. Jase.
I’ve been trying my hardest not to think of him. It hurts too much, but I can’t help it now. He’s the one who’s shown me what I’ve been missing out on—not just the sex, although, God, that was good. But more than that, he showed me how it felt to go after what I wanted. No excuses, no feeling scared anymore. I was braver because of him. Happier. For the first time, I saw what it was like to be with someone who respected me. Challenged me. Sure, he loved to dominate me in the bedroom, and I went wild to surrender to all his filthy tricks, but there was something deeper there that let me submit so completely.
We were equals. Partners.
And now he thinks I’m no better than Max.
I check the time. It’s getting late, and I need to go get ready for my big bachelorette, so I get up and start walking back along the river path towards the T. I’m still so lost in thought, that when I look up and see a familiar figure running in the distance, I
have to stop and wonder if I just hallucinated him.
Jase.
He’s out running, his headphones in. His shirt clings to his body in sweaty patches, and the look on his face is so determined, it breaks my heart all over again. I know I should leave before he sees me, but I can’t take my eyes on him.
Closer, closer. He’s running a trail that will take him right past me. My pulse speeds up just seeing him again, but I don’t make a move.
At the last minute, he looks over and sees me. His face changes. His expression goes dark. He runs on without even breaking stride.
My heart sinks.
I watch him disappear around the bend, and it feels like my last piece of hope is leaving with him.
I should be happy. I wanted him to hate me—it’s easier this way. I’ve saved him from the shame of my past, and from all the drama and baggage I’m carrying around with me, but still, it hurts. Bad.
But there’s nothing left to do to keep walking, away from Jase and towards the wedding from hell—and everything that will come after it.
16.
CHLOE
If I thought the dress fitting was bad, my bachelorette is officially hell on earth. Sure, there’s plenty of alcohol hidden in these fruity cocktails, but sitting in a tea room surrounded by Boston’s top socialites while they coo over my future as Mrs. Maxwell Mainwaring makes me want to flee the country.
“Put the sash on!” one of my bridesmaids, a blonde called Bitsy, I think, insists. She loops it over my head before I can argue. It’s bright pink, with bride-to-be scrawled on the front. “Don’t you just look darling?”
“Darling!” they all echo.
I’ve got a tiara, too, and a table full of gifts. I wasn’t about to inflict this on Amanda, she’s already done enough, so I’m left alone to face it.
“You’re soooo lucky. Max is a dream,” another woman sighs.
“You’ve got Harold!” her friend protests.
She rolls her eyes. “Please. He spends more time tinkering with that awful car than he ever does with me. Then he’s tracking oil all over the house. Don’t let Max get into classic cars,” she adds to me.
“Or boats,” another pipes up.
“Or hunting. Unless you want him gone every fall for a few weeks, which has its perks, too. While he’s up to his neck in pheasant, I jet to Paris and put a dent in his credit card.”
“Hush!” Bitsy cries. “Chloe doesn’t want him gone. They’re in love. The honeymoon phase, remember that?”
The Botoxed woman rolls her eyes. “Trust me, sweetie,” she tells me. “The sooner you get yourself an apartment in the city and a personal masseuse, the better. I have a great guy, Sven. Magic hands.” She winks.
Hunting . . . apartments . . . personal masseuses . . . I feel like I’m stuck in a foreign country. They’re all speaking a language I don’t understand. Is this the life I’ve got ahead of me now?
“We’re supposed to be opening gifts,” Sienna interrupts. She’s been sitting there like a block of ice all afternoon. She grabs a gift and shoves it at me.
“Thanks?” I peel off the wrapper and find a gift box of lingerie. Garters, panties, and all.
The women let out a chorus of giggles. “Oh my God, Max is going to love that.”
I open another, but it’s more of the same: this time a red lace teddy that looks about three sizes too small. “You shouldn’t have,” I say weakly.
“Men are very visual creatures,” Bitsy tells me. “You need to keep him hanging on.”
In a flash, I see Jase, and the ravenous way he used to look at me. I put on a show for him in the living room that first night, driving him crazy until he practically dragged me to bed, and I didn’t need expensive underwear to do it.
“Aww, she’s blushing, how cute!”
I realize they’re all watching me, and stuff the teddy away. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back!”
I flee for the bathrooms, and a moment of peace.
Just another hour, you can get through this.
And then the rehearsal dinner. And the ceremony. And the next twelve months of my life . . .
The door swings open and Sienna stalks in. “Are you hiding in here?” she demands.
“Sorry. I just . . . it’s all pretty overwhelming.”
Sienna glares. “Anyone would think you aren’t happy to be marrying my brother. There are girls who’d kill to be in your shoes,” she says fiercely.
“I know.”
She leans forward and stabs a pink manicured nail at me. “I know all about his plan. Business only, so don’t you dare get ideas about seducing him. He’s off-limits, got it?”
I blink. Is this a trap? I don’t want to admit anything, so I play it safe. “You really don’t have to worry about that. I’m marrying Max. I’ll do whatever he wants, OK?”
Sienna glares. “No, it’s not fucking OK.”
Before I can wonder what she means, she turns and stalks out again. Now I’m really confused. I head back out to the party, bracing myself for more bitching, but Sienna excuses herself early for an appointment, and the rest of the tea passes by just fine.
“I can’t wait!” Bitsy trills. “Soon, you’ll be family. Forever!”
Forever . . .
The word haunts me as I wait out front for a cab, surrounded by all my shower gifts. There it is again. As much as I can pretend this is just a performance, I’m going to be saying those vows up in front of everyone. To have and to hold, ’til death us do part.
It’s a lie. Max knows it, I know it—but we’re still going to stand up there and lie through our teeth, anyway. I know I have good reason to go through with it, but that tight knot in my stomach isn’t going away.
I never thought that when I finally walked down the aisle, it would all be pretend.
Out of nowhere, tears rise up, and I have to fight not to cry right here in the lobby of this fancy hotel. I turn away and bump into someone, and I steady myself. “I’m sorry,” I apologize.
“That’s alright.” It’s an older couple, in their eighties maybe. The woman looks at me. “Are you OK, sweetheart?”
I nod. “Fine!” But my voice wavers.
She looks sympathetic. “Here.” She pulls a tissue from her purse and gives it to me. I dab my eyes.
“Thank you,” I say, feeling totally pathetic. I’m breaking down in public now, and the worst part is, I can’t even feel embarrassed. The hole in my chest hurts too much to care about anything else.
“When’s the happy day?” her husband asks. I realize I’m still wearing the bachelorette sash.
“Sunday.” I sniff.
“Congratulations!” He smiles, but his wife hits him lightly on the arm.
“Bertie! Can’t you see the poor girl is having a moment here?” She turns back to me, sympathetic. “It’s not too late to call it off, you know.”
“It is,” I reply, feeling the weight dragging down on me.
She tuts. “It’s never too late. Why, I ran out on my first beau two hours before the ceremony. Flagged down a delivery truck and hitch-hiked thirty miles before they even knew I wasn’t coming.”
I stare. “You really did that? But what about everyone waiting for you—your family, all the plans—”
“Plans change.” She smiles. “Besides, if I hadn’t gotten cold feet, I never would have met Bertie here. We’re going on fifty years now, and I’ve never regretted a thing.”
“Miss, your cab.” The bellhop comes to collect me.
“Good luck.” She winks, and they walk away, laughing together. It makes my heart ache to watch them. This is real love, the companionship and friendship that Max wouldn’t know if it was right in front of him.
But Jase would.
That’s the missing piece here, the reason it hurts so much to lose him. It’s not just about the sex and our incredible physical connection. We tease and laugh together as friends. I care about him.
I love him.
“Miss?”
&nb
sp; I turn. The cab is still waiting, with all my things loaded inside. I climb in after them. I give him the directions and sit back, the traffic blurring outside the window as I think about Jase and everything I’m losing. My whole life, taken over, because of one foolish teenage mistake.
How long am I going to be paying for my shame?
How long will I let it control my life?
It’s never too late.
I lean forward. “Change of plans,” I tell the driver suddenly. “Take me to Sunset Towers instead, on Franklin.”
He veers left though the traffic, and in no time at all, we’re pulling up outside the building.
Max’s apartment.
I pay him and climb out. “Wait!” he calls after me. “Your bags!”
“Keep them!” I yell, and hurry inside before my nerves fail me. The doorman is away from the desk, but I have a key now, so I head straight for the elevators and hit the button for Max’s floor.
My heart is pounding. My hands are sweaty. But I have to do this. There’s no turning back.
I can’t live a lie.
I’m going to tell him the wedding’s off. And if that means Max releasing the video, then that’s the price I’ll have to pay. I’d rather be humiliated than say vows I don’t mean to a man I’ll never love. And if there’s still a chance to make things work with Jase . . . ?
I have to take that risk.
I get to the penthouse floor and use my key to unlock the door. I’m so busy bracing myself for the fight to come that I don’t even notice my surroundings until I almost trip over a shoe lying in the middle of the floor.
I stop.
There are clothes trailing through to the bedroom. Max’s pants and . . . women’s lingerie? The bedroom door is ajar, and I can hear a shower running in the master suite.
My mind races. He’s sleeping with someone? All this time he’s been putting me through hell, and he has a girl already on deck. Why didn’t he just marry her and save us both the trouble?
I’m frozen there in the hallway when the shower shuts off. “Babe?” his voice comes. “Can you grab the wine?”