For the One Chosen: a novella companion to For the Lost & Wayward Found (Crossroads)

by Rosalyn Martin

  A long time went by before I was able to get over Neil.

  What he and I had was…life changing. It sounds like a melodramatic way to describe a relationship, but it was. Neither of us knew what we were in for that summer. We had just graduated from college and we were both new to the Denver area. He was getting ready to start culinary school—something he had been looking forward to foryears. I had landed myself a temp-to-hire position for the Central Library in Downtown Denver; it wasn’t where I wanted to end up, but it was an ideal place for me to start while I saved up the funds to go back to school for my masters in library science.

  We ended up living not too far from each other and we decided to hunt for a church together. Somehow, in the midst of our transition into life after college, we started to see each other differently. His jokes got funnier; his food tasted better; his greenish-brown eyes were what I dreamed about. I craved his conversation and his company; I thought about him whenever something exciting happened at work; and I had lost the lonely feeling I had been carrying around for months. The best part was, for the first time in a long time, my feelings had been reciprocated.

  As summer turned into fall, we became inseparable. Every weekend we were exploring the city. We’d go to baseball games or jazz clubs; he’d take me to the theatre or to a concert; and there wasn’t a restaurant inmilesthat we hadn’t tried. Neil never did anything halfway. Being a passionate person, he put his whole heart into everything. The harder he loved, the farther I fell. We were affectionately known asNefanyby all of our friends, and I teased him about how I was beginning to understand the phrase “once you go black, you never go back.”

  It didn’t prove to be true. And as hard as we tried, our love wasn’t unconquerable.

  After six months of bliss, he fell in love with his mistress: the kitchen. His desire to be a chef was always there and his goals were always something that I encouraged; but when his dreams started to become a reality, suddenly there was less room in his heart for me.

  With the New Year came new opportunities. When Neil got offered the chance to study the art of pastry making in Paris, he said yes without a second thought. As did I! There was no other answer besidesyes, of course! And I believed in our love; I thought that we could survive the distance. We did, for a little while. I even got the chance to go visit him in the most romantic place in the world—only, when I was there, the distance between us felt just as great as if I were back home. He was focused and determined…only not on me.

  He promised me that he would come back for Chase and Lily’s wedding, but as the months drifted by and the wedding got closer, our relationship began to sink—like a poorly made soufflé. We tried to work through every issue that seemed to pop up the longer we were separated. We both learned about patience and grace and forgiveness in ways that I would never be able to forget—but in the end, it wasn’t enough. He broke up with me through a video call, three weeks before the Stapleton wedding, from Italy.

  The break-up was hard on it’s own—but the fact that he did it while he was visiting Italy was like adding fuel to the flame!

  I cried the whole conversation, even though he begged me not to; even though he promised it was for the best. I didn’t care. I was hurting and I wasn’t going to hide it or apologize for it. The worst part was, I couldn’t come up with an argument against his decision. Everything he had said to me, all the reasons why it was best for us to be apart, they were true.Except for the part about me deserving better. Neil is a good man; he will always be a good man, chasing after God’s heart.

  But I did deserve someone who had time for me. I did deserve someone who would put me first. I couldn’t fault him for admitting that his career was higher than me on his priority list. He was pursuing something he had wanted his whole life; and he was man enough to let me go before I got dragged through the dust, clinging to his coattails.

  God and time healed my wounds and Neil and I kept in touch. When he returned to the United States, he moved to New York and started working at this fancy bakery. The miles that separated us turned out to be a good thing; it enabled us to stay friends in spite of everything.Our relationship taught me a lot—about myself, about Neil, about what I want and what I need. It’s like Neil was a tool that God used to teach me how to love more fully. I loved him in a way I had never loved before…

  Am I in love like that now?

  I hadn’t meant to ask myself the question. The words were thrown together in my head before I could brush them away. Suddenly, my coffee tasted bitter.

  I had never compared Neil to anyone—let alone the man I was about to marry. I wasn’t that person who kept score between past and present boyfriends. I appreciated that all of my relationships had taught me something; that they had helped define the woman that I was, but I always let them stand on their own—shineon their own.

  My darling man is not Neil, nor do I wish him to be.

  But the question had been asked and my heart seemed to be begging for an answer. The problem was, I didn’t know the answer.

  I jumped at the sound of my phone. My racing heart hoped my groom wasn’t trying to reach me. Realizing too late that I had just wished for the opposite of what a normal bride would, I began to panic. I set my coffee down and drew a deep breath, hoping my air intake would calm me down.

  You’re being ridiculous, I told myself.Pre-wedding jitters. Everyone gets them. I’m in love. Of course I’m in love. And I’m getting married today.

  I’m getting married today.

  Remembering that the hour was approaching for people to start waking, I grabbed my phone. I had things to do and responsibilities to see to—I had to answer the call. I ignored my relief when I saw that it was my mother calling and answered before she got sent to voicemail.

  “Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

  “Just calling to make sure the bride is awake!” she trilled excitedly.

  My head felt like it was slowly traveling from a different dimension. It took a bit of effort for me to reach her level of enthusiasm. “I’m awake, yeah. I’m actually not at the hotel—but I’m heading back now, okay?”

  “Better hurry. We have to take care of a few things before we head to brunch. Michelle and I—”

  “Did you wake her?” I sighed as I began packing my things back in my purse. My mother had been doling out orders since she got into town three days ago. Everything she was doing was out of love, and she had such an endearing personality that no one complained—but I knew better.

  “Of course not!”

  I wasn’t convinced, but I let it slide. “Okay. I’m on my way.”

  10:15 am

  I didn’t think twice about ordering a mimosa with my breakfast. I knew that with nothing in my stomach, other than the remnants of my early cup of Joe, the champagne would go straight to my head—but I didn’t care. I made sure to order an omelet with a blueberry muffin and a cinnamon bun to help absorb any chance of intoxication getting the best of me.

  I got more than one strange look from my little entourage.

  “I can’t believe you’re planning on eating all of that,” stated Tabitha. Her order had consisted of an egg white omelet and a piece of whole-wheat toast. At five-seven and a dozen pounds shy of twice my weight, I didn’t know who she was fooling; she’d be starving by noon.

  That was rude. I didn’t mean it, I thought as I reached for my drink.Tabbi is beautiful from head to toe—and I don’t mean that condescendingly. She carries herself with so much poise and confidence she could make a size zero supermodel jealous. I knew this to be true because even though people found me adorable at five-foot nothing and one hundred and two pounds, I was often jealous of her height and her voluptuous curves; along with her gorgeous, golden Indian skin and long, heavy, black hair.

  We had been friends for a couple of years. We met at church through a mutual friend—my husband-to-be. With his humor and her brazen personality, the two of them could make people laugh until they wet their pants. Tabbi’s trade
mark was her brutal honesty, so it was no surprise to me that she made her opinion of my meal choice widely known.

  “Hope that dress of yours still fits when you go to put it on in a couple hours. You can bet your pastries I’ll be fitting into mine.”

  I rolled my eyes at her, but she wasn’t alone in her viewpoint—she was just the only one who said anything out loud. As I looked around the table, my mom, my future mother-in-law, my cousin Abby, even my grandmother looked at me like I had grown another head. Lily offered me a sympathetic smile over the rim of her glass of water as she sipped and swallowed her surprise.

  “What? I’m hungry!” It wasn’t the whole truth, but they didn’t need to know that. They didn’t need to know that I was drinking champagne in hopes that it would help calm my nerves and I had every intention of carbo-loading because I was subconsciously thinking about Neil.

  I couldn’t help it. Even after I left the café and threw myself into all the last minute details that needed to get done before the wedding, one question kept popping into my head—Am I in love like that now?

  No matter how many times I told myself yes, it didn’t seem like the right answer. And if asking myself the question wasn’t horrible enough already, it got worse when Neil called me just as my bridal party was leaving for the restaurant. At first I thought he was going to tell me something horrible, like everyone on the wait staff he enlisted had come down with food poisoning; or he had dropped my wedding cake; or he had burnt all the chicken entrees! It ended up being worse.

  He called just to tell me that everything was going to be perfect. All fifty-three of my guests were going to have the most amazing dinner of their lives and my cake was going to rock their worlds. He just wanted me to know that his contribution to my wedding was all under control and that I didn’t need to worry about it. And he told me he couldn’t wait to watch me get married—because I deserved all the happiness that was coming to me.

  Burnt chicken would have been easier news to handle.

  His sweet gesture wasn’t something I could fix. It wasn’t a crisis I could manage with a few phone calls or a list of back-up plans or my mother’s assertive nature. No—his sweet gesture just begged the question—Am I in love like that now?

  I downed the rest of my mimosa before I excused myself from the table and headed for the restroom. I needed to get a grip. To say that I was being ridiculous would have been putting it mildly. Of course I was in love. Absolutely. No doubt about it. I was getting married.

  I am in love with my fiancé. Myfiancé! The man who I’m about to marry. Yeah—that guy—I am totally ready to spend the rest of my life with him.

  I closed myself inside a stall and pressed my back against the door. I convinced myself that I was only panicking because it was so easy to forget how big of a deal marriage was. With all the excitement around the ceremony, the purpose behind it often got muddled. I was about to make a vow that would tie me to someone forever. Forever was a long time. And while I knew what I was about to promise to another human being washuge, I wasn’t actually going to fully comprehendhow huge until we had been together for, well, forever. Because how could I fully understand something I had yet to experience? That question was the diagnosis to what ailed me.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, forcing myself to remember that I wasn’t entering into this covenant alone. I wasn’t the only person who was about to pledge my life and my love to another. We knew what we were in for—or, at least, we had a pretty good idea—what with marriage counseling and the never-ending advice from our parents and wedded friends.

  I smiled as I reminded myself thathehad chosenmetoo—something Neil hadn’t done.And hadn’t I once thought that I wouldn’t be able to love anyone more than I loved Cypress? And I was wrong about that, wasn’t I?

  “Stefany?” I jumped at the sound of Abby’s voice, having not heard her enter the restroom. “Are you okay?”

  I was wrong about that, wasn’t I? I thought once more before I opened the stall door. “Hi,” I muttered lamely.

  “Hi,” she murmured, smiling down at me.

  Even with my high-heeled boots on, Abby towered over me. At five-nine, she was the shortest of my five cousins. She had legs for days and wavy, sandy blonde hair that fell halfway down her back. She was a beach babe, for sure; her sun kissed skin, and bright smile made her constantly aglow. She was going to look beautiful in her dress. For a moment, I wondered if I had gone temporarily insane when I picked the women who would stand with me at the altar. I shook the thought away, suddenly anxious to stuff my face with the sweet breads I knew awaited me at our table.

  “Are you okay?” she repeated, interrupting my thoughts.

  Am I in love like that now?

  I was wrong about my love for Cypress, wasn’t I?

  “I might be freaking out, just a little bit. But don’t worry, it’s nothing a little breakfast won’t fix,” I blurted before brushing past her, heading back toward the group. We had a schedule to keep. I was getting married in less than seven hours.

  12:30 pm

  Cypress and I were never a couple. Over the years, I’d resented him and thanked him for never returning my affections. In the beginning, when I first introduced myself to him, it was just out of curiosity. Our friendship evolved so naturally that what we had became this organic relationship that could withstand almost anything. Thinking back, it seemed as if ithad endured more than most friendships could.

  I had always found him attractive, but it took my heart a while to really latch onto him romantically. It was when he was at his lowest, after Autumn had left, that my heart opened up for him. It broke for him—it was like his withdrawal from everything that was important in his life drew me in. I wanted to be his proof that all love was not lost and in the process I became his.

  He didn’t see it or recognize it for the longest time. It wasn’t until I found the nerve to steal a kiss that he realized my love for him was far more than platonic. And even though that one kiss was the only one we ever shared—I still hadn’t forgotten how incredibly satisfying it was. After more than three years, I remembered how my heart raced when he kissed me back; his hands gripped my waist and pulled me close. I hadn’t expected him to encourage me. In the end, I was the one who pulled away, not him.

  It wasn’t love that fueled his passion, though. He didn’t want to be with me. It was a painful truth to have to face—but I respected him for not playing with me, for not trying to forget his unrequited feelings for Lily by using me.

  “Knock, knock!”

  I covered myself with my arms, feeling self-conscious even from behind the shower curtain. It probably had more to do with the fact that I was thinking about Cypress while I was in the shower than about the possibility that Lily might see me naked.

  “I know you’re getting all sparkling clean, and I’m not trying to rush you, but I thought you’d might like to know one of your guests has arrived!” she announced over the sound of my running water.

  Before I could open my mouth to speak, Gwyneth greeted me excitedly. “I’m here to help in any capacity! Really—if anyone in the bridal party needsanything, I’ll be your gofer.”

  “You’re so sweet. Thanks, Gwyn,” I managed.

  “Okay—our room is about to be transformed into a salon. Come out when you’re ready,” Lily sang before closing the door.

  As if our roles had been reversed, suddenly I was feeling sick to my stomach—except, I couldn’t blame my nausea on a baby. They sounded so excited.Everyone was thrilled that my wedding day had arrived; but as the five o’clock hour drew closer, my anxiety continued to escalate.

  Am I in love like that now?

  I was wrong about my love for Cypress, wasn’t I?

  For reasons I couldn’t explain, all I could think about were the men who claimed my heart in the past. My love for them had been so great—each circumstance unique, like the men themselves. With Cypress, my feelings for him had been so unconditional; nothing he did or s
aid ever made my heart long for him less. He kissed Lily, knowing she was in a relationship,twice. Twice! But I loved him anyway. He broke my heart, more than once and without even knowing it, and I still wouldn’t let him go.

  With Neil, it was different. It was raw and reckless; it was fun and passionate. I was head over heels and he accepted my affection and exchanged it with his own. We were together for a year and it took me just as long to get over him—even with thousands of miles separating us. And to top it all off, they were both still important enough to me to be invited to my wedding—my small, intimate, fifty-three guest wedding!

  Am I in love like that now?

  I jumped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around myself, not even bothering to dry off before I ran into the next room. In an attempt to prevent myself from crying, I concentrated on my breathing—each intake of air short and unsatisfying. I was graced with a small ounce of relief when it became evident that no one had arrived to start getting ready—Lily and Gwyneth being the only two busying themselves around the room.

  “Is this normal? This panicky feeling I have—is it normal? Tell me that you both freaked out on your wedding day. Tell me this is normal.” I sounded borderline hysterical, and the moment the words had tumbled out of my mouth, I instantly regretted having said them. Every muscle in my body screamed for me to take refuge in the bathroom from the horrified looks I was receiving, but my feet wouldn’t move. Instead, the tears I had been trying to avoid filled my eyes until I couldn’t see clearly. “It’s not normal, is it? It’s bad. It’s really, really bad!”

  “Hey, hey—it’s okay,” Gwyneth cooed, hurrying to close the distance between us. My hair was still dripping wet and my body was damp, but that didn’t stop her from engulfing me in her arms. “Just take a couple deep breaths.”