Take a Bow (The Perfect Plans Series Book 2)

by C. J. Wells

  “A paper-fucking-bag? Listen, bitch, unless there’s a bottle of booze in it, you can stick the paper bag up your…”

  “Stacey Stevenson! Bite your tongue.”

  Our gazes dart towards the voice to find Stacey’s mother, Evelyn, standing in the entrance of the suite. She looks as beautiful as always, despite her customary low-maintenance appearance. Evelyn was never one to take the time to wear make-up or do anything special with her naturally stunning tresses, yet her natural beauty always shines through. She’s the polar opposite of Stacey that way, though their striking resemblance is uncanny. They share the same brilliant emerald green eyes and figure, but Evelyn is taller with lighter, strawberry blonde hair, next to Stacey’s bright copper tresses.

  “Mommy!” Stacey jumps up, running to hug her.

  I can’t help but smile at their loving embrace. Evelyn is the only family Stacey has in this world. That I know of, anyway. It’s been just the two of them since they moved to Toronto when we were in high school, neither having ever spoken of Stacey’s father. And I’ve never crossed the line she suggestively drew to warn that the topic was off limits. Though I have to be honest, I’ve always wondered if it played a part in the obvious ‘daddy’ issues that plague Stacey.

  “Why is my beautiful baby girl so upset on her wedding day?” Evelyn pulls back, looking into Stacey’s eyes. “I don’t know how you put up with her, Aby, sweetie,” she winks at me, walking over to give me a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

  “You too, Mrs. Stevenson,” I smile.

  “Ahhh, hello? Bridezilla over here! Woman. In. Crisis…” Stacey displays her best damsel-bitch-in-distress neck crane with exaggerated eye popping for extra effect.

  “Crisis?” Evelyn looks concerned, gazing back and forth between us. “What’s happened? Is everything on schedule with the wedding?”

  “Everything is fine. Perfect actually,” I glower at Stacey, to which she rolls her eyes. “Stacey is just having a minor panic attack it seems.”

  “Baby,” Evelyn puts her arm around Stacey, guiding her to sit down. “This isn’t like you. You’re the queen of control,” she smiles encouragingly through her playfully loving sarcasm, cupping Stacey’s face to look into her eyes. “What can I do to help?”

  “You just did,” Stacey smiles, hugging her mom. “I’m just so glad you’re here. You always know exactly what to say,” she adds, pulling back to look at her.

  “I barely said anything at all,” she laughs. “And where else would I be?” She kisses her cheek.

  “It’s not what you say, Mommy, it’s what you do. But actually, where you should be is down in the spa. It’s a gift from your soon-to-be son-in-law, Mom. You can’t blow it off. Pamper yourself this one time, okay?”

  “It’s your day, Stacey,” Evelyn’s brows scrunch in gentle defiance. “I don’t need…”

  “Mom. This is non-negotiable. I want my mother to look and feel amazing on my wedding day. You already have the look part down pat. So for just one day, play with that and get all dolled up. For me? Please?” she pleads dramatically with an exaggerated wide smile.

  “You’re incorrigible, you know that don’t you?” she shakes her head. “I suppose I should at least try to do justice to the incredible dress you picked out for me. Mascara and all?” she grimaces.

  “And all,” Stacey warns lovingly.

  “Okay,” she kisses Stacey’s cheek again before standing. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours. I would really like to be here when you put on your dress, okay?”

  “Of course, Mom. Now go. Enjoy,” Stacey scoots her towards the door. “I’ll be fine, I promise. I’ve got Abs,” she looks towards me with her tag-team grin.

  “I’ve got her covered.” My well plastered, forced smile falls the minute the door closes behind her. I’m sensing the impending return of Bridezilla any minute. “Ummm, you just brushed your Mom off like a dusty rug. What was that?” I question as she turns to face me.

  “That, my little gumdrop, was me getting rid of the only person I know that can passive-aggressively talk someone down off a ledge, while leaving them shaking their head as to exactly just how she did it.”

  “So…you’re okay then?”

  “Well, that’s the catch. My mom rocks, but I don’t want to burst her bubble by letting her know that her charms on me are short lived. My metaphorical ledge is as inviting as a male stripper waving his dick and a shot glass at me. I could jump back on at any moment.”

  “Great,” I grimace playfully. “Then as long as you don’t jump off it, we’ll be fine.”

  “Ha ha, whore. So, what about you? Are you fine?”

  “Of course I’m fine,” I nonchalantly walk towards the armoire, fiddling with her wedding dress hung from the door.

  “So, you’re trying to tell me that though you have yet to speak to Alex, you’re fine? I call bullshit, Abs.”

  “And I call shut-it,” I turn to flash her a cautioning smirk, my inner actress quickly shifting gears to hide any signs of my instantly boiling blood. The past twenty minutes had been the first time since last night that I’d successfully silenced their giggles in the shower, or the constant replay of a naked Helena’s little peepshow. Not to mention the way she looked at me - the evil glimmer in her eyes haunted me all night, yet, in the cold light of day, I can’t help but wonder if I saw something more behind that eerie stare.

  No doubt, Stacey’s Bridezilla attack played a large role in my short-lived distraction. Yet with her mere question of concern, the disgusting events are now back in full force, poking me square in the head once again. Ugh. How could he? I quickly turn my attention back to the dress, squeezing my eyes closed against the tears threatening to emerge. Was it his turn to get back at me?

  “How long have I known you?”

  “Just let it go, Stace. Please.”

  “I can’t, Abs. I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re hiding something - especially pain. Your acting skills are useless on me, Scarlett O’Hara. You’re pining over your Rhett Butler, and you can’t fool me that it’s not bothering you.”

  “What was it that Rhett said to Scarlett? ‘Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn’. Irony is a bitch,” I whisper to myself. A confusing bitch. I know what I saw, but my heart is fighting to believe it.

  “Stop mumbling. I can hear you, ya know. Alex certainly gives a damn. I know he’s angry right now, Aby, but he’s proven how much he cares.”

  I cringe at her words, fighting my body’s urge to buckle to the floor and cry. Or throw up. I thought he cared. I thought I trusted him. I don’t know what to think anymore.

  “And,” she continues, “…like me, he can see through you as well. Translation - he loves you as much as I do.”

  Oh, God. I exhale deeply, desperate to keep it together, bending to reposition her sparkly shoes for distraction. “Your theory is flawed,” I retort - with no intention of offering the razor-sharp edge of truth that if Alex truly loved me, he wouldn’t have been with Helena. “Liam never saw through me, and he loved me,” I deflect instead, turning to face her, my resurfaced anger controlling the breaking of my heart.

  “Liam was in denial, hun. And nice try. Deflection doesn’t work with me either. Talk to me,” the concern in her gaze kills me.

  “Stace, it’s your wedding day. Please let this go. It will still be here tomorrow.” And the next day…and the day after that…

  “Don’t make me hurt you. Do you really want me to splatter the blood of my Maid of Honor all over my wedding dress? Come on,” she takes my hand, leading me into the bedroom to sit on the bed. “I promise, dealing with your shit keeps me from losing mine,” she smiles wide, teeth and all. It’s a psychotic breakdown forewarning that I know she means.

  Ugh, I close my eyes on a deep breath. “Last night…Alex was home, but he wasn’t…alone.”

  “What? What the hell do you mean? Did you talk to him?”

  “He didn’t even know I was there.” My attempts to avoid
her gaze are fruitless against the locked and mirroring movements of her head. “I heard laughter coming from the bathroom…from the shower.”

  “Go on,” her jaw cocks at an eerie angle that matches the crazed look in her eyes.

  “I heard the door opening, someone came out,” I lose focus, staring into space, fighting to keep the visual from resurfacing.

  “Who, Aby? Who came out?” she grabs my shoulders, forcing me to look at her.

  “It was Helena,” a tear slips down my cheek. “She was naked.”

  “What? Holy fucking shit!” Stacey bolts upright, pacing erratically before looking back to me. “Alex wouldn’t do that to you. Would he?” she questions the air. “Oh, but that tramp would,” she folds her arms, retracing her circle of steps. “I bet she was just waiting, like the slutty vulture she is, to swoop down and…Oh, shit, Abs,” she rushes to sit down, taking my hands in hers. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore…She looked right at me, Stace. She knew I was there, and she didn’t say a word,” I give in to the overflowing emotion I’ve been holding inside as she hugs me. “So many things have gone wrong. Maybe we just weren’t meant to be.”

  “Oh, bumblebee. I don’t know why bad, stupid, painful shit happens to people, but I do know that you have to fight back. Don’t let it win. Deal with it. Learn from it. And start over,” she smiles. “Thomas taught me that.”

  “I’m so happy that you’re happy. You deserve this, Stace.”

  “So do you, baby girl,” she wipes my tears.

  We sit in silence for a few moments, staring at nothing as if weighing the situation over and over in our heads. “Maybe he was drunk…” Stacey finally suggests.

  “Would that excuse him from playing rubber ducky with Brothel Barbie?” I look down, fumbling at the fold of my jeans at my bent knee.

  “Well, you were drunk when you went for a test drive with Ken Doll’s tongue,” she purses her lips.

  “I was upset!” I stand to walk off my defensive outburst, swiping at my tear-stained cheeks.

  “Alex was upset too. Just saying,” she adds, re-pursing her lips with a head tilt when I turn to glare at her.

  “I kn-ow,” I release a defeated sigh, joining her back on the bed. “But, Stace, what happened with Andrew was just a kiss. I’m not sure Alex and I could get past…” I trail off, having to swallow back the vomit-laced words. “I’m just not sure I could ever forgive him.”

  “You will. Although, whether that means he’s lost your heart forever is up to you. But you do have to forgive him. Forgiveness is a gift to yourself, pookie.”

  “Wow. That’s deep.”

  “I know, right?” she laughs. “Thomas has invaded my psyche.”

  “He seems to have done more than that. I hate to break it to you, but you’re beginning to portray him in the light of a knight in shining armor. Maybe one day you’ll open up about why you would even need one?” I force her gaze, squeezing her hand.

  “What, and open the dungeon floodgates?” she forces a pained laugh.

  “To quote a wise and wonderful friend, ‘do you know how much I love you’? You have been there for me for anything and everything, anytime. I’m waiting for the day when you’ll let me return the favor.”

  “Well, lucky you! Today is that day,” she smiles. “I want my bestie slash beautiful Maid of Honor to have a wonderful day by my side,” she squeezes my hand. “Are you going to be okay?”

  “Leading you up the aisle to the man of your dreams? You bet your cute ass I will. Let’s go start getting ready.”

  “My cute ass? You must have me confused with this perfect-assed whore I know,” she smiles with a wink, taking my hand as I lead her towards the bathroom.

  “I love you, Stace.”

  “I love you too, bubble-ass,” she playfully pinches my butt, stopping to give me a tight hug.

  “THIS IS IT!” I mutter, practically bouncing in excitement. “You look so beautiful! I can’t wait to see the look on Thomas’s face when he sees you walking up the aisle.”

  Stacey’s face, however, looks a little frozen in fear, her eyes glazed over, staring right through me.

  “Stace? Are you okay?”

  “What?” she seems to snap back to reality, shaking her head a little as she focuses on me. “Ummm, yeah…good to go. Just nervous.”

  “Stacey Stevenson nervous? Get outta here,” I tease her, smoothing out her dress.

  “There’s a first time for everything,” her grin is more fitting to that of a psych patient the moment before meltdown. “I’m more nervous than a whore in church, Abs.”

  “You are a whore in church,” I laugh, trying to break through to her.

  She smiles, and I’m elated to see it’s real. “I hate you.”

  “No, you love me. And more importantly, you love Thomas. So, let’s go make you Mrs. Stacey Fines.”

  “Mrs. Stacey Stevenson-Fines.”

  “That works too,” I wink, just as the processional begins to play. “Are you ready for this?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she takes a deep breath, reaching for my arm as the usher prepares to open the doors. “I’m madly in love with him, Aby.”

  “I know,” I squeeze back impending tears, turning to give her a quick hug. “I’ll see you at the altar?”

  “We’ll see,” she smiles again, its edges laced with a returned nervous twitch. “Hey, Abs,” she pauses for me to look back at her, “…don’t trip.”

  “I hate you,” I tease, blowing her a kiss before nodding to the usher.

  The doors open fully to reveal the church full of standing guests, all turned in their pews to witness the impending bride. My breath hitches instantly at the thought that Alex could very well be here among the crowd, his eyes on me, watching my every move.

  A quick scan through the smiling faces sends my pulse racing, and I immediately stop looking. Meeting Alex’s gaze would be the death of me. I couldn’t bare the look I imagine would be on his face, not to mention the stab to my heart if I found him sitting with her. Would he really come with her? I squeeze the stem of my bouquet with every small breath of composure through my shaky steps, measured in time with the beat of the bass of Canon in D. Each stroke of the chord echoes in the pounding of my heart as I turn my full attention towards the destination ahead.

  Thomas looks the epitome of poise, radiating a love and excitement that would make any woman weak in the knees. His warm smile and sweet wink instantly transforms my forced performance into genuine calm as I reach my place, turning to join in to welcome the bride.

  The traditional bridal march precedes momentary gasps and elated whispers as Stacey comes into view at the end of the isle.

  I glance quickly towards Thomas, a quick gasp myself, tears threatening to form at the sight. He’s mesmerized, his awe apparent as he swallows a well of loving emotion through a jubilant smile. The love emanating from his gaze is breathtaking as he watches Stacey walk slowly up the aisle, beaming radiantly in her stunning gown, her direct focus locked in place on his.

  I’ve never seen her more beautiful - her stunning red tresses styled to perfection, the curls cascading over her bare shoulders, a sparkling diamond necklace peeking through. The sweetheart neckline of her strapless wedding gown hugs her curves beautifully amid a jewel-beaded sash at the waist, the ruched chiffon flaring out slighting just below her hips into a simple A-line to the floor, her shimmery Jimmy Choo heels peeking out from underneath. The dress is simple, yet elegant, a classic look reminiscent of a nineteen fifties glamour wedding.

  Reaching for Thomas’s hand, Stacey exudes happiness, love. So much so, that I feel a jealous pang in my chest. Guilt seeps into my pores as I witness the commencement of their union, plagued by my own broken heart. It takes everything in my power to refrain from peering into the crowd. For him. The man I wish desperately was standing up at this altar with me in their place. I’m a fool. A foolish, lovesick fool. I’ve lost him. Yet here I sta
nd, at my best friend’s wedding thinking about him. And, clearly, he’s not thinking about you - my inner actress snaps me back to the present just in time to catch the pastor’s call for objection.

  “May you speak now or forever hold your peace.”

  The momentary opening gives me the perfect opportunity to sneak a glance through the seated guests, and I shamefully take it, to no avail. I don’t even spot Helena, though I may have missed them both in the quick scan before turning back to the bride and groom.

  No, I close my eyes at the realization. I didn’t miss him. I know he’s not here. I know that if he were, I would be drawn to him. It’s a painful reality I can’t deny.

  “IS IT RUDE to throw a breath mint in someone’s mouth while they’re talking?” Stacey whispers at my side.

  “Stop it,” I laugh. It’s funny, but such a good question. One more kiss to my cheek and I may turn into a toad. It’ll be a whole new kind of fairytale.

  “I’m dead serious. I think that last dude brushed his teeth with moth balls,” she adds, shielding her mouth inconspicuously in time to greet another guest with a smile. “I know I won the battle for my quaint little wedding, but, Jesus, did you see the guest list for this reception? Look at all of these people. Thomas knows the whole fucking city.”

  “Yes, it seems he does. And, on that note, perhaps his bride should dial down the wearing-say a little.”

  “What? Speak fucking English, Abs.”

  I roll my eyes. “The swearing, Stace. Dial it down a notch.”

  “Oh, sure. Anything for you, sweet-tits,” she rolls her eyes, and I pinch her underarm. “Ouch,” she drawls dramatically, shooting me an I can’t believe you just did that glare.

  “There’s my beautiful bride,” Thomas greets us from behind, folding Stacey in his arms before she has time to turn. “Have I told you today how lucky I am?” he kisses her cheek.

  She leans back into him, beaming. “Tell me again. Or better yet,” she turns in his embrace to face him, “…show me.”

  “Gladly, Mrs. Stevenson-Fines,” he stares lovingly into her eyes before cupping her cheeks, bending to take her in a sweet kiss. “Today, tomorrow…forever.”