by Corri Lee
He’d changed so much. The man who was satisfied with just taking up my weekends had become clingy and self-effacing. It was almost like our personalities had switched, and suddenly I was the confident one. I didn’t know how to handle that adjustment.
“What happened to him when I was in New York, Chris? Why isn’t he fearless any more?”
Chris dug into his pocket for the phone he’d supposedly left behind, and loaded up a picture of a man I hardly recognised. A broken Blaze slept on his couch, haggard and unkempt, looking totally desolate even in slumber. Nobody had shown me how badly it had affected him when I’d left, and I really wish that Chris hadn’t now. It hurt to know that I’d done that to him.
“He’d never felt real loss before, Emmy. He was too young to really remember or mourn his dad. You were his first taste of life not being handed to him on a silver platter and he’ll do anything to avoid tasting it again.”
I swore to myself that he wouldn’t have to.
The man in question rushed up to me as soon as we stepped foot back into the club, pulling me up in his arms into a rib cracking embrace that lifted my feet off the ground. For once, I didn’t object to the confinement—I needed it.
“I was only outside,” I explained quickly before Blaze could leap into his ‘I thought you’d left me’ speech. “I was just taking five minutes with Chris.”
“You’ve been crying.” He set me down, pushed a thumb underneath my glasses and rubbed at the edges of my smudged eyeliner. “Was it me?”
“No, I’m just feeling a little out of sorts.” A pathetic lie but anything was better than regaling him with the details of the argument knowing now how much he disliked Hunter. “It doesn’t help that you haven’t kissed me all day.”
He frowned at me, sagging a little. “I haven’t? I’m sorry, Emmeline, I’ve just been so—”
“Sunstroke.” I pulled his head down to mine and cut him short with a kiss. He gathered my loose hair in one hand and wrapped it around his palm like a rope, giving it a gentle tug to tip me backwards. “Ah, no,” I breathed against his lips. “Don’t do that.”
He released my hair quickly. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, damn it. I liked it—do it again.”
Grinning, Blaze tutted and pulled me out into the crowded dance floor. “Indecisive minx. Don’t make me take another breath without you there to hear it, cupcake. Every moment I’m not near you feels like a waste of life.”
I took that seriously. If we were just a mutual co-dependency, there was nobody I’d rather be dependent on because despite everything, Blaze had never let me down. When I needed him, he had always been there and I knew that wouldn’t change, which was more than most people could say about even their closest friends.
The only fear that could harm us was mine, and it derived only from not knowing myself. My concerns that I neither knew nor trusted my feelings were what drove a wedge between us, and that was one-sided. Blaze resolutely knew what he felt—might have done from the word go—and that definitive certainty should have been an inspiration.
It would be. I just needed a little shove in the right direction.
A gentle breeze woke me the next morning. Memories from the night before still swirled around in my mind; dancing up close, drinking far too much, always having Blaze wrapped around me nuzzling and nipping at my lips and neck, and then the compensatory sex for his earlier neglect... Oh, hell yes, the compensatory sex.
Smiling, I groped around next to me but found the bed empty. I rolled over and forced my eyes open, finding him sitting out on the smaller balcony stemming off from the bedroom. The bamboo blinds flapped and tapped against the open door, letting more of that welcome breeze into the room.
Blaze looked pensive. He stared down at the small kotatsu table where he’d laid out breakfast, seemingly deep in thought. Thoughts that didn’t appear to be happy.
“I hope that’s for me,” I called through to him from bed, nodding towards the coffee pot, “and that your frown isn’t.”
“I have many things for you, cupcake, but my frowns aren’t one of them. I do, however, have bacon.”
“Ooh, bacon!” Bounding up from the bed, I grabbed the closest article of clothing and helped myself to a seat on his lap, wiggling suggestively as I poured us both coffee. It was far cooler outside, still warm but pleasant. That was subject to change as the day progressed, but as far as breakfast went, it was a million miles better than the previous morning.
Blaze mindlessly toyed with my hair, smirking every time I looked like I was expecting him to pull it again. Apprehension mingled with need there; he’d been rough after my little revelation during our kiss. At one point, I’d feared for both our personal safety and blown-to-hell need for control.
“Hunter left a message for you. He’s in the hotel getting ready and wants you to go and see him as soon as you’re dressed.”
Way to kill my morning buzz. “I hope you told him to eat shit and die.”
He froze in surprise. “Um, no. That was my immediate reaction but thought better of vocalising it. What the hell happened last night?”
“Oh, you know.” I shrugged flippantly and bit into a rasher of bacon. “God forbid my life should be a bit peachier than his, and like hell should it be good without him. He still thinks he can lash out at me and I’m just going to take it.” I sighed and leaned back against his chest. “I’d say we should skip out on the ceremony but I don’t want to look like the acrimonious ex-admirer. That’s like a bullshit confession that I can’t stand to watch him get married. Plus they separated because I refused to come...”
“You feel like you have a responsibility to make sure he goes through with it.” Blaze rested his head against mine and closed his eyes. I could feel some of the previous day’s tension in him, but it seemed to be overlook-able for both of us now we were sort of back on track. “You selfish little thing, you.”
I bit my lip to stifle a laugh. “You picked up on that, huh? I’d hate to be used as an excuse for him to flake at the last minute, you know? I don’t like Siobhan, but I’d hate to be the woman jilted at the altar. If he’d left her in the weeks before today, that would be bad enough, but to do it at the last minute and drop my name as reasoning...”
The thought made my blood run cold. I didn’t want to think that Hunter would use me as vindication to do something completely appalling, but I couldn’t rule it out. If he wanted to back out now, I wouldn’t make it easy for him. He’d have to find another reason or, I don’t know, try telling the cold hard truth.
My head flopped onto Blaze’s shoulder. “I hope nobody is having this kind of conversation about you on the morning of our wedding.”
“Never.” Slipping a hand under the shirt I’d found, Blaze dragged a tip of a fingernail down the length of my spine; his eyes flared when I bowed into him and playfully sank my teeth into the tender spot in the crook of his neck. “I always said I’d only get married once. I fucked that up. But I never make the same mistake twice, Emmeline. I won’t let you go again.”
After some intense negotiations, Blaze agreed to come with me to see Hunter. His terms were simple; he’d make sure I didn’t commit a murder as long as he didn’t have to talk to him, and I didn’t wear underwear to the wedding. The cream chiffon dress he’d picked out for me in London grazed my knees, so I had no qualms about it, especially knowing that he’d made the demand with the intention of utilising it at some point.
To his detriment, my state of secret undress made me somehow irresistible. Every step I took came with a grope or a craned neck to try and look up my skirt.
“Hey, hey, hey!” I slapped his hand away for the hundredth time right outside Hunter’s door. “You wanted this. Pack it in or I’ll lose the bra, too, and I don’t want you passing out through lack of blood flow to your brain.”
“Okay, my bad.” He crouched, leaning dangerously close to my backside. “Just let me tie my laces.”
“You don’t—” My hands flew
out to support me as his tongue ran from the back of my knee, up my thigh and disappeared under my dress. “Fuck, Blaze.”
“Later.” I felt him inhale deeply just as the door opened. “Jesus, even your ass smells of ro—... Oh.” He stood up quickly and held a hand out to the man in the doorway. “You must be Samson.”
“Uh...” Hunter’s brother looked at his hand, then looked at me and winked. “As much as I love Emmeline, I’d rather not risk finding out where that hand has been.”
I wanted to die. Almost did. Would have if Samson hadn’t grabbed me and given me a hug. He had the same boyish charm as his brother, but had darker straight hair styled up into rigid spikes. We hadn’t had much to do with each other in school but were friendly enough for him to be overly familiar in a cheeky way.
“You look great, Emmeline. Hardly recognise you.” Samson led us into the room and waved to the couch. Several little clusters of beer bottles were dotted around the room, a messy spread of clothes draped over most of the chairs and loud aggressive rock music booming from the direction of the bedroom. “He’s stressing out something chronic. I think he was hoping for a private pep talk.”
“This is private.” Noting Samson’s blatant examination and subsequent approval of the man pacing the room, I reached out and grabbed Blaze’s knee to stay him. “Package deal, you know how it is.”
“Of course.” His face lit up at the cue to remember his own wife and troop of three children. Like Hunter, he’d married the girl he’d met in college, except he was well-grounded and hadn’t regretted it for a single minute. “Just don’t mention Dad or dads or... anything pertaining to parents.”
My heart sank. “Peter hasn’t come? Jeez... Okay.” What kind of father didn’t turn up to his own son’s wedding—more specifically, not turn up when he’d been at the other son’s? I stood and linked hands with Blaze. “Let’s go make sure he’s okay.”
Hunter was sat on the bed with his head in his hands when we walked in without knocking. Only half dressed into his suit, he looked like a wreck. No surprise judging by how many bottles were in the room.
Blaze rolled his eyes at me and let his obsessive need to clean take over, clearing the mess out of the room while I tended to the mess on the bed.
Leaning down in front of him, I grabbed Hunter’s hair and yanked his head up. “Dude. Are you serious right now?”
He shook free and collapsed backwards, slinging an arm over his face. “Fuck off, Emmeline.”
“I will not. Bridezilla is going to be looking for a dapper gentleman when she walks down the aisle and you look like hell. Look...” I knelt on the bed next to him and started straightening out his shirt. “You’re allowed to be nervous. You’re allowed to doubt everything. But as soon as you see her walking towards you, it won’t matter.”
He lifted his arm. “You think?”
“Sure. You wouldn’t have let her plan everything just to ditch her now. And questioning if you really love her—that has to be normal.”
“But I haven’t lived.” Hunter sat up and waited for Blaze to leave the room again before he looked at me. “Are you happy?”
“What?” Why the hell had this turned into another discussion about my life? He was deflecting again. Anything to get out of being honest about his own feelings. “Nobody is happy all the time, Hunter, but we had this talk already. You don’t appreciate the good without the bad.”
“What if it’s all bad?”
“Is it?” The lack of an answer spoke volumes. If it had been all bad, he wouldn’t have stayed with her for five years or moved away from his family and friends. He wouldn’t have proposed and he wouldn’t have come back to her after their brief separation. “You have to grow a pair and take those steps to the car that’s going to take you home, where people have put a lot of effort into making it look amazing for the ceremony. A lot of people have flown a very long way to see you get married today.”
“And that’s a good enough reason to do it? To please everyone else?” No. A thousand times no. But I couldn’t say that. If I had to lie through my teeth, I’d do it to get him to that fabulous garden of his.
“Do you have a good enough reason to not turn up? Because nerves won’t cut it with anyone.”
“Emmeline?” I looked over my shoulder at Blaze and took an involuntary breath in. He’d run out quickly to change into his suit and oh boy, had all my Christmases come at once. He’d left his jacket behind and was dressed in a light grey waistcoat with fine white pinstripes and matching trousers, and a white shirt with the top two buttons undone. I knew there were implied rules about not out-shining the bride but if the same stood for the groom, may he be tried, convicted and ‘go down’ for a very, very long time.
He gave me a full minute to ogle him before speaking again. “The car is here, cupcake. Coming?”
“Almost.” His grin flashed white for a second before he turned away. A little flustered, I turned back to Hunter and smiled in response to the bewildered look he gave me. “Ready?”
“He’s in love with you.”
“Uh...” I glanced down at my hands, needing the visual reminder of the emerald on my finger. “I guess he is.”
“And you’re really going to marry him.”
Now that I needed no help answering. “Yes, I am. He’s good for me. Good to me.”
Hunter stood and brushed his trousers down, shrugging on his jacket and straightening the cuffs. “Then I’m ready.”
Blaze and I rode in a limo with Esme, Chris, Daniel and Jonathan. Under sufferance, Henry and Ivy had taken an earlier car with Helen, and Hunter and Samson were driving ahead of us.
Daniel looked at me suspiciously as I climbed through the low door, careful not to flash anyone. “Hunter just looked like a man going into war. What did you say to him?”
“I dunno, just that he’d stop freaking out once he saw Siobhan walking to him and how people would be pissed if they’d flown out just for him to play runaway groom.” Hardly a pre-battle pep talk.
“Brutal but apparently effective.” Jonathan and Esme murmured in agreement. Brutality hadn’t been my intention but if that’s how it happened, who cared if it worked? “Think this is his happily ever after?”
“Probably not. You know Hunter; he’ll knock her up, they’ll argue over baby names and he’ll end up losing half his savings to a messy divorce.”
“Nothing less than he deserves.” Chris passed me a glass of champagne with a malicious sneer. “May the pig-assed bastard live unhappily ever after.”
Slouching back, I glared at him. “Uncool Chris is uncool. You know what unhappiness feels like; don’t wish it on others.” As much of a pig-assed bastard as Hunter may have been, he deserved to be happy as much as everyone else.
Chris snorted. “He ruined your life.”
“The hell he did. Look at my life—does it look ruined to you? And it’s not like he intentionally messed me up when I was a teenager, he didn’t even know how I felt.” Not that knowing would have been productive. It wasn’t like he’d have been able to stop only seeing me platonically or done anything to make me stop loving him. It probably would have just scared him and made things worse.
“Whatever. I’m just saying, if he ends up in London begging for a place to stay again, I’m going to be neither surprised nor sympathetic.”
“So why the hell did I just placate him with bullshit I don’t believe to make sure he gets down the aisle?”
“Because you’re admittedly selfish.” Blaze took my hand and kissed each knuckle gently. His eyes shimmered with affection and relief, maybe because Hunter would soon be officially out of the picture. “You’re also a very good person.”
Daniel was right. Hunter’s face was set into an expression of grim determination, the face of a warrior rather than the image of a man on cloud nine about to marry his childhood sweetheart. Not even a very good warrior; he looked positively sick.
I’d had higher hopes for the garden. From the fuss made, it had been
implied that silk imitation cherry blossoms would fall from the sky like confetti, huge plumes of flowers covering the greenery and fifty white doves cooing patiently in gilded cages. In reality, all they’d done is stick a bamboo arch with sprigs of artificial pink sakura on the small bridge and laid out rows of chairs in two blocks with a makeshift aisle between them.
Siobhan was late. The guests spoke quietly between themselves to relieve the boredom of waiting for a bride just metres away in the glass house behind the screen covered windows.
I rubbed at the ache in my forehead. The storm was close—it had taken root in my frontal lobe.
“Are you okay?” Blaze squeezed the hand he was holding. “You don’t look so great.”
“How rude! Just the stirrings of a migraine.”
“Want to get out of here while we can?” I looked up at him and simpered. He looked as bad as I felt and had been fidgeting like a cranky child since we’d arrived.
“You don’t like weddings, do you?”
He averted his eyes. “Not since the last one I went to.” Nodding, I looked up at the greying clouds starting to blemish the sky. The last wedding he went to must have been his own. I didn’t need to probe into that, not at all. “So we’re staying?”
“Afraid so. I need to be here, to see it with my own eyes.”
“Closure?”
My lips pursed. “Maybe. I don’t think I’ll be seeing him again after this, so it feels like goodbye.” Not seeing him would be my choice. I had no doubt that the opportunities would arise, but I just didn’t want to. Spending the time with him in Japan had made me see how little common ground we had beyond sharing some of our school years. He wasn’t nerdy like me, too insular, and it was awkward. There was a reason why men like him were the ‘boy next door’ type; they’re nice to look at but never meant to be obtained because they lack substance.