Wasted Vows

by Colleen Charles

  “You’re sweet.” I leaned across the distance between us and kissed him on the cheek. “Like cake.” My sheet slipped, exposing my naked breast. I inhaled a ragged breath and snatched it back up.

  Corban cleared his throat and averted his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the flash of desire I’d witnessed. He still wanted me. Obviously, he did, but I couldn’t help anticipating a rejection. I’d spent ages suffering ill treatment from both men and then the general populace. It was beyond me that a man this handsome, smart, ambitious, would care for me after he found out the sordid truth. Who would brave a relationship with the Minnesota Pariah?

  A knock rattled the front door to the suite and Corban heaved himself off the bed. “Be right back.”

  He returned a few minutes later, carrying two bags, one containing a freshly laundered suit and the other a gorgeous, knee length summery dress in duck’s egg blue. He left me in privacy to try it on. It fit perfectly – he’d obviously taken my size from the cocktail number I’d worn the night before.

  I checked my reflection in the bathroom mirror, piled my hair on the top of my head with a binder and winced at the lack of makeup. I didn’t normally use a lot of the stuff, but I could definitely use a touch-up. After a quick shower to scrub my skin, I fetched my handbag from the master bedroom, then dashed on some mascara, eyeliner, and lip gloss. I ran a brush through my hair until no traces of the accident remained. The completed effect wasn’t perfect, but it was far better than I looked a couple minutes before.

  I moved out into the entrance area of the suite and met Corban. I lost my breath for a second – handsome in a new suit, even with stubble along his jaw, he looked the picture of a classy corporate type. The type I preferred before falling for a professional athlete on a whim of ignorance.

  He caught my gaze and blinked. “Wow. You clean up nice.”

  “Is that a reference to last night?” I asked, managing to cough up a teasing tone.

  He offered me his arm, speechless, and I took it. I didn’t feel like arm candy with him. It felt like walking with a friend or an equal. With Thorn, it’d always felt like I was an accessory, another piece of finery to be rolled out and displayed to the media and his friends. And judged.

  “Let’s go get our champagne and eggs,” Corban said. “Uh, though, not at the same time.”

  We made our way downstairs and were escorted to a central table in the dining area. I couldn’t quell the excitement. Everyone around us had dressed to the nines in summery colors. They enjoyed their champagne and dripped ostentation, but I adored every second of it. It felt like I’d returned to the land of the living.

  There were tropical fish in the aquarium, and I was the eager five-year-old, cooing at the pretty colors. Except with less noise, and I was able to refrain from tapping on the glass. The waiter arrived with our champagne, and I accepted a glass with a smile. “Thank you.”

  “Miss,” he said with a curt nod, a superior gaze sweeping my body.

  He handed another flute to Corban, then swept off into obscurity.

  I stifled a giggle. “I’m really loving my virgin initiation into champagne brunch at The Ivy.”

  “I know, right?” Corban sipped some champagne. “I don’t usually do this kind of thing, by the way. Let’s call it a special occasion.”

  “What’s so special about it?” I asked.

  He lowered the glass and leveled a gaze at me. “Do I really need to answer that?”

  I managed not to blush this time, but barely. He took me back to a time when I’d been unjaded by heartbreak and when genuine interest in me hadn’t seemed suspicious. “Thanks for doing this. I know we work together and this morning could’ve been really awkward. Thank you for taking something disastrous and turning it into a night I’ll always remember.”

  “I’m glad you feel that way because that’s what I wanted,” he said. “But that’s not why we’re having brunch. I really do want to get to know you better. On a personal level.”

  “Oh. Yeah, totally.” I swallowed, but it did nothing to quash the nerves.

  “So tell me a little about yourself,” he said and sipped more champagne. “And not professional Luna. I want to know everything about Luna the woman.”

  “I–”

  “She’s a piece of trash,” a man said from behind me.

  I froze. I knew that voice. Its sexy timbre haunted me, and if I turned and matched his face to it, I’d probably transform into a jellied mess of embarrassment on the parquet floor. This moment had chased me down like an angry mob, and its death clutch had reached the back of my neck. I clamped my eyes shut, anticipating the blow.

  “And just who are you, sir?” Corban asked, standing and throwing his white linen napkin down on the tablecloth.

  “Thorn Edwards,” I said, finding my voice. “He’s retired from the Twins. And he’s going to be the emcee at the event.” It took every bit of my professionalism to keep my voice level. My hands trembled, and I lowered them into my lap. “We’re not the best of friends.”

  “This is Thorn Edwards?” Corban had heard about him during my second presentation. “Nah, I don’t care if his batting average was above three hundred for most of his career and he’s destined for Cooperstown. No gentleman talks to a lady like that.”

  “You need to redefine the word ‘lady’ in your personal dictionary.” Thorn strolled into view and stopped right beside our table. Inches from me. It was the closest we’d been in ages, and my hair stood on end. I despised being this close to him. A shiver started at the base of my spine and spiderwebbed over my limbs, leaving tingling trepidation in its wake.

  It was strange to hate a man I’d once loved. I’d made myself believe that we had a glorious future unfolding before us until the moment I ran out on our wedding ceremony. Then everything had gone to hell in a handbasket. He’d turned the entire city against me, and all because he wanted to retain his manhood and stroke his own ego.

  What was worse, I couldn’t say a word about it. I couldn’t defend myself against him because it would be a breach of contract, and I’d lose everything I held dear.

  “I heard all about last night, Luna,” Thorn said. Cold blue eyes. How had I ever loved those eyes? “It’s in the Star and Tribune. Thorn Edwards’ ex-fiancée, the Runaway Bride, makes whipped cream of herself while on a date with an up and coming corporate raider.” He examined my face and then my hair, his lip curling in disgust.

  “Corporate raider?” Corban scraped his chair back and slammed his palm down beside his champagne flute. “I’m in marketing.”

  Good god, this was my worst nightmare come to life.

  “She’s a home wrecker,” Thorn replied. “I can’t believe you don’t know. What? Have you been out of the country?” My ex flexed his biceps underneath the Prada or Gucci or whatever five-figure designer suit he’d chosen this morning. He was taller than Corban, broader in the shoulders too. But he paled in comparison in every way that mattered.

  I didn’t doubt that Corban would beat his ass if he was so inclined, but I didn’t want to see that. This conversation had to end before it went too far. Before it went so far the ship couldn’t be righted.

  “That’s enough,” I said. “Just leave me alone, Thorn, please. The past is in the past.”

  “Oh, you’re begging now? That’s right, you should beg. You should be ashamed of yourself.” His voice rose, and the chatter in the elegant restaurant dimmed.

  All eyes, those fancy suits and dresses, turned to us. We were the highlight of brunch at the Hotel Ivy, not the expensive champagne or the famous Eggs Benedict.

  “Stop,” I said, my voice breaking under the depth of my mortification. “Please. You can do whatever you want to me, but Corban doesn’t deserve this. Can we step outside and finish this conversation?”

  “She left me at the altar,” Thorn said, staring at Corban in a battle of wills while ignoring me and my pathetic pleas for mercy. “The Runaway Bride, that’s what she’s called. Like Julia Roberts ex
cept less classy. And far less beautiful.”

  Corban clenched his fists. “You’re interrupting our meal with your tall tales. From the way I see it, I don’t blame her if she did.”

  “It’s public record, buddy. You think she’s appetizing now, right? Just like the succulent prime rib on your plate? Probably had a piece of that tight ass,” Thorn said and looked down at me. I still hadn’t risen. The lump in my throat kept me from speaking, and my trembling limbs kept me from running. “But you’d better watch out, bro. Take it as a warning. She’s frostier than a January night in Barrow, Alaska.”

  “You’re warning me?” Corban asked.

  “Yeah, stay away from Luna Anderson.” He yelled my name loud so that everyone in the room could hear it just in case they didn’t recognize me. “She’s bad luck. She ruins lives wherever she goes. You fuck her, and you fuck yourself,” Thorn said. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  He didn’t have to do this too. He’d already ruined everything for me and only for the sake of his wounded pride. My business, my life, and now this. Whether I wanted to or not, I was already emotionally invested in Corban. Murmurs traveled through the room. Hisses from a table nearby. A few men glared at me through their angry slit-eyes.

  I lurched out of my seat, the dining room spun around me.

  “Oh look,” Thorn said and laughed. “It’s a repeat showing of a bad B movie. She’s going to run again.”

  I wanted to argue. I wanted to stick around and fight back, but one look at Corban’s face – his expression laced with shock and anger – drove away any shred of courage that remained. I turned on my new high heels and ran from the room, between the tables, away from the heckles and cheers. The only thing I registered in the wake of my escape was a smattering of enthusiastic applause.

  “Bitch!” a man shouted from one of the tables nearest the exit. “You’re a fucking embarrassment to the entire state. Look what you did to our hometown boys!”

  I dashed past him, down the stairs and out into the street. I waved my hand for a taxi, tears streaming down my cheeks. “Please,” I whispered. Not talking to anyone but myself.

  “Luna!” a man yelled behind me, the voice tinny and distant. I didn’t check whether it was Corban or Thorn. I had to get away.

  A taxi stopped, and I jerked the door open, clambered inside, and slammed it behind me.

  “Luna, wait.” The blur of motion from the front of the hotel drew my attention, but I refused to look.

  “Summit Avenue,” I whimpered. “As fast as you can go.”

  The taxi drove off and left the man I couldn’t look at standing in a fog of unshed tears and bad blood.

  Chapter 16: Corban

  I didn’t go back into the Hotel Ivy. If I faced off with that asshole, I’d start something that would finish with me losing my position at Unique, and my business reputation would swirl down the toilet. I trembled though and couldn’t stop. The rage pushed through my veins and energized me. I had to move. I had to do something. Anything.

  Luna Faye – no, Luna Anderson apparently – had burst into a torrent of agonizing tears because of that jackass. That same jackass who would be the emcee at my event. And she’d been so strong, she’d never said a word or indicated in any way that Unique’s choice would make her uncomfortable. I’d never met such a classy woman in my life outside of my own mother. I wanted to kick my own ass. It was the second time she’d burst into painful tears in my presence, and I hadn’t been able to take that agony away.

  I strode down the sidewalk and dragged my cell phone out of my pocket. I swiped my thumb across the screen, then tapped through to my contacts. I scrolled to Larissa’s number. She answered after two rings.

  “Hey, Corby,” she said. “Ross isn’t around at the moment, but I can take a message for you if you want.”

  “I don’t want to talk to Ross,” I said. “I want to talk to you.”

  “Oh? Wow, you sound super serious. Somebody pee in your cornflakes this morning? If so, just pour yourself some Captain Crunch.”

  “You could say he pissed in my expensive champagne,” I snapped. “I didn’t even get to finish my eggs.”

  “Okay? That sounds mysterious. And horrible.”

  “Who in the hell is Thorn Edwards?” I asked. “And I don’t mean who he is as a man of the diamond. I don’t give a shit if he’s got an ERA of under 3.00 or a batting average above .350. The fucker’s the most hated man in Corbanville today.”

  Larissa fell silent. I couldn’t hear her over the rumble of engines. A taxi drove by, and I waved it down. It stopped just ahead of me. “Give me a second, Larissa.” I let myself into the cab, gave the driver directions to my condo, then shut the door. “I’m back.”

  “You want to know about Thorn?” Larissa asked and exhaled. A long, low, weighty sigh that spoke volumes about what she wanted to articulate but didn’t. Or couldn’t. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

  “Start with how Luna ended up engaged to the asshole. He’s not her type. At least not the Luna Faye or Luna Anderson or whoever she is I know. I feel like I’m starting to get inside her head pretty well, and I’m having trouble seeing it.”

  The cab driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror. I raised an eyebrow, and he shifted his gaze back to the road.

  “Thorn didn’t seem like an asshole in the beginning,” she said, her voice grave. “He seemed like any woman’s dream, but I never liked him. Red flags started popping up all over. A temper. A sense of entitlement a million miles wide, then he started controlling Luna at every turn. Treating her like a trophy that should be seen and not heard. I told her I didn’t like him, but she had rose-colored glasses on. When they got engaged, she was dubious. You know, the bloom of love colored her perspective, and that dang oxytocin got the better of her.”

  “So, what happened?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. I know it wasn’t her fault, but I don’t know all the gory details. I’ve tried to get her to spill it, but it’s almost like Thorn’s holding something over her head. This is better done in person. Corban, come over to our place, okay? We’ll talk about this. You can decide what you need to do about him after that.”

  “Do about him?” I asked, wanting clarification.

  “Don’t pretend you’re not going to act on this,” Larissa replied. “I know you, and I know that tone of voice. You’re angry. Now, get your butt over here so I can fill you in.” She hung up before I could argue.

  I gave the cabbie the new address and folded my arms, gripping my cell, crushing it in my palm until my hand burned and turned white under the strain. I still couldn’t relax. The image of Luna darting down the stairs and into a taxi stayed in my head. She hadn’t even looked back at me. I’d screamed her name until my throat went raw, and she hadn’t stopped. I felt dismal. Rejected.

  I got out at Larissa and Ross’s house, paid the driver, then hustled up the sidewalk. Before I even reached the top step, Larissa flung the door open and ushered me inside. She shut the door behind me, expression sober.

  “Well?” I asked. “You going to fill me in on what the hell happened? I hate to be brusque, but I’ve never been so flummoxed by a situation in my life. And I’m in marketing for a Fortune 500 for Christ’s sake.”

  “First you gotta tell me what caused this? Why do you even care?” Larissa asked. “Did something happen with the Twins’ event? Did Luna do something you don’t approve of? I’d be surprised because her work is stellar.”

  We walked through to the living room, and I sat down on the sofa, placing my forearms on my thighs. “Everything was perfect. We went to the party last night, and we spent the night in – ahem – in the Hotel Ivy, and this morning we went to the champagne brunch. And that’s when the bat-wielding douche canoe arrives and accuses Luna of ruining lives. Of ruining his life, and his professional baseball career. The fucker’s headed for the hall of fame, so I’m not quite sure what he’s bellyaching about. She ran out of there. People were screaming at h
er. Screaming. And swearing. It was like the entire establishment had been reduced to a trailer park mentality.”

  Larissa shook her head and closed her eyes. She pressed both palms to them. “God, hasn’t he tortured her enough? I hate him.” She dropped her hands. “Thorn and Luna got engaged way too fast, and since Thorn and his parents insisted he get married during the short off-season, the next thing we knew, their wedding day loomed before us. She walked down the aisle, but she wasn’t happy. I’ve never seen a gloomier bride in spite of her stunning beauty in her gown. She was super nervous on the day, but she wouldn’t tell me much. And after it happened, she wouldn’t tell me anything at all.”

  “You keep referring to this dastardly wedding day. What the hell happened?”

  Larissa sighed out a long breath. “Luna ran when she got about five yards away from Thorn. She turned around and ran right back down the aisle and out onto the street, her long lace train dragging behind her. Ross and I brought her back to our house. Remember when we lived in Excelsior before we moved to Minneapolis? She stayed with us for months since it was so much more remote. And then one day she just went back to the house on Summit Avenue. No explanation. No rhyme or reason. Poof, she’s gone. I know Thorn had something to do with it.”

  “The house on Summit? I’ve been there. It’s more like a mansion.”

  “It’s his house,” Larissa said. “I know that what happened between them sounds weird, but I know that what he’s saying about her, about her ruining his life, is absolute bullshit.”

  I cracked my knuckles, an old habit I hadn’t resorted to since finals for my Masters. I didn’t believe a word that scumbag said. What kind of man speaks about a woman like that in polite company? What kind of person talks about anyone like that? A big, fat fucking entitled piece of shit. “Why did he say she ruined his life?”

  “Because after they broke it off, he had some really bad games that ended in a career destroying injury. Since then, the entire city hates her. That season, they finished on the bottom of the MLB roster. And I’m not talking about by the hair on your nose. By about ten games in the L column. You know how obsessed people get about their sports teams, painting their faces, and redecorating their rec rooms? Yeah, that. Every Twins fan in Minneapolis, which means everyone in Minneapolis.” Tears gleamed in her eyes. “Her business is failing because of him.”