by Niecey Roy
The truth was, I hadn’t been that Lexie since Jeremy and I announced our engagement. As soon as his parents found out, Deborah had stepped in to dictate everything, turning what should have been the happiest experience of my life into a nightmare. She’d walked all over me, pushed her wedding planner on me, and changed my wedding date. She’d nagged about the table decorations, rearranged the seating chart, anything to make me miserable. She’d run my life the way she’d always run Jeremy’s, turning me into a horrible, miserable Bridezilla.
I looked down at the pullover hoodie I wore, a ketchup stain on the pink pocket. Ketchup from the French fries I’d had for lunch. French fries.
“I still can’t believe that woman’s nerve.” Roxanna crossed her legs with a shake of her head, one black mid-calf boot swinging. Roxanna didn’t sit still very well. She was always moving, always doing something. I swiveled around to face the breakfast bar.
“Yeah, well, she warned me,” I said, my nose in the box of cupcakes.
They weren’t smashed. It was a freaking cupcake miracle. Melanie, a friend who owned the bakery downtown, had filled it with my favorite—a S’mores inspired, gooey chocolate and whipped marshmallow wonder. Mel was a cupcake genius. She’d been the one to cater dessert for my engagement party, but back then I wasn’t eating cake. I’d been so boring back then. This specific cupcake was meant to be eaten with a fork because it was jumbo sized and too thick to get my mouth around. However, in my current state, I attacked it with a full frontal mouth assault. A dab of frosting stuck to the tip of my nose.
“Give me that.” Gen took the cupcake from me.
It became mush in our struggle for cupcake dominance, but Gen won out and dropped it inside a personal pan sized pizza box, empty but for the crusts. Pizza was a new indulgence of mine. No more one-slice-wonder for this girl. It wasn’t that I’d spent my entire life without foods like cupcakes and pizza, it was just I’d always preferred leafy greens and fresh grilled meats. Carbs had always been an indulgence I enjoyed in moderation—which made me think of Leo. An image of his naked chest came to mind like a hot flash. I’d been avoiding him like the plague. There was no time for another complication in my life—I was already a walking disaster.
“You don’t even like this stuff.” Gen shut the lid on the pizza box.
I’d never really had a sweet tooth like Gen’s. Or maybe I’d never really allowed myself to enjoy them? To think, all this time I’d been missing out. All it had taken was a nervous breakdown for me to see the light. I snickered, and Gen raised her brows.
“You are going to be the size of a truck if you keep eating junk like this.” Gen’s gaze was now on the pizza box. “When was the last time you went to the gym?”
The word “gym” made me think of Leo again. Out of sight, out of mind. It wasn’t like he was worried about his crazy ex, anyway. He’d been wrapped up in a big case the last month, so I doubted he even thought of me. It was all for the best. There were some nights I lay awake thinking about his kisses, but I blamed it on my newfound insomnia.
Anyway, I couldn’t risk any kind of relationship with Leo, or anyone, even if it was “just sex.” Men were the enemy. A man was the reason I was in this crap predicament in the first place. Men came with false promises and prenups—and contracts—and broken hearts. And Leo didn’t have a good track record where I was concerned. So, he was officially lumped in with the rest of men—beasts, all of them.
I glared at Gen. “Since when are you the carb police? You’re the one who told me to ease up and quit being so anal about what I eat.”
“That was before you started binge eating,” she pointed out.
“Three weeks and five days, that’s how long it’s been,” Roxanna piped up, and I whirled on the stool around to face her.
“How do you know that?” I asked. Hearing it out loud made me flinch. Almost four weeks? My old self would have shuddered, especially after all the junk I’d been eating. The new me concentrated on being less uptight.
Roxanna fished out a tube of lip gloss from a pocket inside of her handbag. With the gloss wand a half-inch from her lower lip, she said, “You’ve been making up excuses and missing our gym dates so I asked the receptionist. Had to bribe her with a twenty. It’s personal information.”
“Of course you bribed her.” Gen shook her head. She turned to me, her lips set in a concerned frown. “Lex, you really need to snap out of this.”
This? My messy life couldn’t adequately be described as simple as “this.”
Deborah told anyone who would listen about what a heartbreaking bitch I was, how immoral I was, what a bad role model I was for young women, and people listened. Why wouldn’t they? Deborah Buchanan was wealthy, a pillar of the community—a mother aching for her son’s broken heart. That’s what people saw. A bad person—that’s what people believed of me.
I had no proof—none—of Jeremy’s parents being the cause of the wedding debacle. Why the hell hadn’t I demanded a copy of the contract? Why couldn’t I have snapped out of my stupor long enough to save my future self from this fallout? Maybe if I had proof I could have my own televised interview, wave the contract in the air and gain sympathy by the thousands.
But I didn’t have a contract, so I didn’t have any proof. And who would believe me over the mighty Buchanans? No one, that’s who.
After a night of tossing and turning, I was exhausted and hyped up on all the cupcakes I’d consumed today. I’d watched Deborah’s televised lynching about four times already. Not because I was being particularly masochistic; I’d taken down notes in case I hit the lottery and had the funds to sue her snotty-bitch-evil ass. That was another thing—I’d taken to cussing a lot, in my head. It made me feel better.
Reviewing the video seemed my best option at this point. I wasn’t sure what exactly would stick in court, but there had to be some law against bribery, coercion, and slander. I’d been about to research the law before Roxanna and Gen interrupted my day off.
“Stop torturing yourself. None of this is your fault,” Roxanna insisted.
“It’s not? I’m the one who was engaged to the bastard,” I seethed.
Gen sighed. “You might have been engaged to a bastard—”
“Might have?” Roxanna interjected.
“Okay, so you were engaged to a bastard,” Gen corrected, “but you loved Jeremy and trusted him. There is nothing naive about believing in your relationship, believing in the man who proposed to you.” She frowned and wiped at the frosting on my nose.
I clenched my hands into fists. “I knew things between us weren’t okay after the engagement party. But I ignored it like an idiot, pretending everything was fine. And it wasn’t fine. This is my fault.” I held my arms wide to encompass my messy apartment. “All of it.”
“You are being exceptionally dramatic today.” Roxanna held up the empty bagel sack, holding it between her fingers like a piece of evidence. “We didn’t come here for the drama, Alexis Anne. This is an intervention.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t need an intervention. I need a hit man. My wedding is still haunting me.”
“You don’t need a hit man.” Gen grabbed the box of cupcakes off the counter. I hadn’t noticed she’d been sneaking in close with the sole purpose of stealing them from me. “What you need is to change your clothes, clean your apartment, and then drive downtown to check on your boutique.” She patted my hand and gave me an encouraging smile. “Remember how much you love your boutique?” she asked in a soothing, please-quit-being-crazy tone.
I wasn’t done being crazy. I’d just gotten started. I’d worked so hard for my boutique. I was twenty-three years old, for Pete’s sake! For most, owning one’s own business was a step that didn’t come so soon after college. And I’d done it all on my own. Working a job through college, sometimes two at the same time, had been tough. I hadn’t slept much, but I’d saved a lot. When I decided to open the boutique, I’d gone over the numbers, prepared an impressive business plan
, and secured a small startup loan for Once Upon A Dream. But how would I pay my bills and my bank loan if my boutique didn’t make any money?
God, my head hurts. The migraines had been on overdrive for the past week.
Roxanna rounded the counter and nosed around under the sink for the garbage can. “I was just at the boutique; Michelle’s painting her toenails behind the counter.”
Normally such a remark would have made me jump for the phone, but this wasn’t a normal day. I shrugged. “I’m sure Michelle is taking care of things just fine.”
“I don’t know who you are, but I want my friend back.” The corners of Roxanna’s lips pressed into a frown. In one quick swipe, she cleaned off the counter and filled the trash can with the evidence of my stress eating. Roxanna met my scowl with narrowed eyes. “Don’t give me that look.”
“Go away,” I said and hopped off the stool. I turned in the direction of my bedroom door on the opposite side of the living room. “I’m going to take a nap.”
“What you need is a girl’s night out.” Roxanna sounded too close to have abided my request. “You’ve been skipping out on those too, and becoming a hermit hasn’t helped you any.”
“Yes, a girl’s night. Just us. That sounds fun,” Gen said cheerfully.
I didn’t bother shutting my bedroom door since they’d follow me in anyway. I shuffled to my bed and fell onto the mattress, jerking the covers up over my head. Mitzy was jostled from her sleep, cuddled up into a tiny, blonde ball near my pillow. She blinked at me, then closed her eyes and commenced ignoring the pesky humans ruining her afternoon nap.
“That doesn’t sound fun at all.” I curled up around Mitzy and her warmth. My apartment was cold. I couldn’t afford luxuries like heat these days, which was why both Roxanna and Gen were still bundled up in their winter jackets. I had two pairs of socks on my feet.
“Sure it does,” Roxanna said. “If your sister can tear herself away from her Love Muffin for an evening.” There was a tug on the blankets, but I held on. “Come out of there,” Roxanna insisted.
“Oh, sheesh,” Gen said. “I’m not with him all the time.”
I whipped the blankets down to smirk at my twin. “Um, yeah, you are.” I rolled back onto my side. “I’m not in the mood for a girls’ night.” I held the blankets tight around me, hoping they’d take the hint and leave.
“You could use a couple shots of tequila,” Roxanna said.
After all the junk I’d stuffed into my face, the mere thought of tequila made my stomach quiver.
“How about a movie night instead?” Gen suggested. The bed shifted with her weight as she sat down on the edge of the mattress beside me. “I can pick up Hope Floats.”
“If I have to watch a romance, I’ll throw up all the cupcakes I ate. And that bagel.” I peeked from the blankets, tightening my grip on the edge. “And the French fries I had.”
Roxanna whistled. “You ate all of that crap today? That is disgusting.” Then she grinned. “I might be a little jealous.”
“Chili cheese fries,” I added.
“Oohhh, from Joe’s Burgers?” Roxanna asked.
“Yeah.” I lifted the blankets over my head again. “And I ate every bite.”
“Nice.”
“Are you two done?” Gen asked. “We have more important matters to discuss.”
“Right.” The bed shifted when Roxanna sat down near my feet. She said, “We’re getting Lexie drunk.”
“I can’t tonight. I have inventory to do early in the morning.”
“What about Friday?” Gen asked, and I sighed because it was clear she wasn’t going to leave unless I agreed to their cheer-up-Lexie plans.
“Fine.” Then I added, “No romance movies, though. I’m serious.”
“What about a kick ass vamp movie instead?” Roxanna suggested.
I perked up a little. “Really?”
“Sure. With lots of sexy hotness in it,” Roxanna said.
“Make sure there’s lots of fight scenes.” With every punch, I could imagine one of the Buchanans on the receiving end.
“Sure!” Gen said, excited I’d taken the bait. “And we’ll have wine and pasta, and we’ll badmouth your ex and his bitch mom.”
I lowered the comforter, my hair a static mess. “You’d do that for me? On a Friday? You don’t already have plans?”
“Any plans I had aren’t as important as giving my bestie violence therapy. And I’m single, remember?” Roxanna winked at me. “Chick code.”
“I love you guys,” I said, sappy and emotional and a little close to crying. “I don’t know how I’d survive without you.”
“You’d die, that’s for sure.” Roxanna gazed around my bedroom. “Or weigh so much we’d have to cut a hole in your roof and airlift you out with a helicopter. You have no concept of self control these days.”
Gen winced. “Normally, I’d say you’re being harsh, but for once, I think your no-filter-mouth might be right.”
Roxanna toed the heaping full laundry basket at her feet. “I don’t know who you are, but you ate my bestie, and I want her back.”
Gen wrinkled her nose at the towels hanging on the master bath door. “It’s like you were abducted by aliens or something.”
I was pretty sure the alien abduction part was a joke. Maybe. Her obsession with aliens was a bit over the top. But who was I to judge? I wasn’t exactly all there lately. I could hear the worry in both of their voices, and I understood where they were coming from—I worried about me too.
I’d never been so lost before. What bothered me the most was the realization that I’d wasted so much of my life pasting magazine cutouts into scrapbooks, obsessively planning my future wedding to prince charming, only to learn there was no such thing as a prince charming or fairytale endings. So, so stupid.
I really had no place selling wedding gowns to glowing-eyed brides-to-be. My heart just wasn’t in it anymore. All I could think about was how Deborah had made me into the very person she’d warned everyone against. She wasn’t just putting me out of business, she wanted to ruin my dreams.
I was broken. That bitch had broken me.
I peeked out of the covers at Roxanna. “By Friday, I’m going to need lots of wine. Get two bottles, please.”
Roxanna adjusted her scarf as she headed for my bedroom door. “I’ll get three, just in case.”
Chapter Thirteen
The bell above the boutique door jingled, but I didn’t get up from where I lay sprawled out on the floor. Whoever had walked in wouldn’t be a customer, anyway. There hadn’t been a walk-in for two days. It was probably one of my sisters, and in that case, I was perfectly fine right here.
I kept my eyes closed and clasped the gown to my chest. There was still a hint of the perfume I’d worn on my wedding day clinging to the fabric, even though it’d been hanging in a bag for almost three months now. Yeah, I’d kept it. Not because I sat around pining for my wimp of an ex-fiancé and what-might-have-been, but because the damn thing cost a fortune. I considered burning it. Maybe if I did, it would sever some kind of supernatural bond between me and the Buchanans. Deborah was evil—I wouldn’t doubt if she’d cursed the dress.
I lay there, covered in tulle and gold embroidered beaded lace, a gown I’d fallen in love with at first sight in Manhattan. The trip and the dress had been a gift from Jeremy’s parents. I’d felt so, so loved in that moment, a happy bride-to-be with starry eyes and hopeful dreams. Little had I known, the dress had been purchased with the sole purpose of blinding me with kindness before ambushing me with an ultimatum. Evil bastards, all of them.
I had spent the morning crunching numbers again, just in case by some miracle there’d been something I’d missed. I hadn’t, though. The results were always the same, so my mood was foul, my attitude sucked, and my stomach was filled full of knots the size of fists.
Today was Michelle’s day off, and being alone in a boutique with ominous financial figures dancing in my head had driven me to open a
bottle of Merlot around noontime. The half empty bottle sat on the floor a few feet away from the pile of bridesmaids’ dresses I’d yanked from the racks—they were under me, around me, cocooning me. Kind of like a comfy little doggie bed. Mitzy was in doggie heaven, curled up beside me.
“It’s Leo.”
My eyes snapped open at the deep timbre of his voice, one I hadn’t heard in two months, but I’d been dreaming about almost every night. I only visited Roxanna at her house if I knew he wouldn’t be around—he was too much temptation. Just hearing his voice made my insides tingle.
I lifted my head. My eyes soaked up all six foot three inches of hard muscle draped in a dark grey sweater and faded jeans slung low on his hips, his cell phone pressed to his ear. Drop dead sexy gorgeous as always.
I glared at him.
His unwavering gaze and sinfully sexy smile unnerved me. I didn’t need him strutting around, making my elbows and knees weak, my heartbeat erratic. The effect was similar to climbing a tall, unbalanced ladder. Oh yes, I had fallen for Leo’s charms once before. But this older version of me knew all about the hard knocks of love and life. I knew better now. Yet there I was, lying on the floor, my pulse racing as if I’d just finished a two hundred meter dash.
What the hell was that all about? I wasn’t in the mood for it. I was in the mood for revenge-plotting against the Buchanans, for self-pity pouting over my sad state of affairs, for hating all men except for my dad. I had no time for some beefcake, egotistical, annoying man like Leonardo Jonathan Moss. I squinted up at him through the light pouring in the window, illuminating him like some kind of angel. But he wasn’t an angel. He was a weakness. My weakness—the beast.
“Yeah,” Leo said into his cell phone, a bemused expression on his face as he took in the sight of me lying on the floor, smothered in colors upon colors of gowns. “You should get down here. Lex is…a mess.”
“I am a mess, and it’s none of your damn business.” I laid my head back again and closed my eyes. “Why in the hell are you here, anyway?”