Fractured Fairy Tales: A SaSS Anthology

by Amy Marie

  Chapter 3

  Emma

  “Have you decided on the number of tiers and flavors of the cake yet?”

  Emma was staring into her coffee cup, her spoon creating a circular swirl of white creamer before the color faded into tan. “All taken care of,” she replied without looking up.

  She hadn’t picked up on her own monotone voice until she looked up and into Sommer’s concerned green eyes.

  “What’s going on?” She reached out and rested her manicured fingers atop of Emma’s hand. “You have your dress fitting in”—she glanced at her Rolex–covered wrist—“forty-five minutes.”

  Emma thought for a moment before answering but was quick to paste a smile on her lips. She should be excited. This was her second-to-last dress fitting before the wedding. Still, she couldn’t find the words she knew should be coming from her lips.

  Roland Spurlock was perfect. They’d done everything right, and he’d given her no reason to doubt him. Still, something unpleasant rumbled around in her stomach at the thought of becoming Mrs. Roland Spurlock.

  “I’m sure it’s just normal wedding jitters,” she answered instead.

  Sommer pulled out her Gucci wallet and placed her credit card on the table. “I think once you try that dress on again those jitters will evaporate.” Her smile was genuine, and a ping of dread filled Emma at her lack of honesty. Her friend was the person who knew her best, but even she didn’t know the past that Emma wore like a second skin. Her past had scarred her more than any person knew. Certainly, more than Roland would ever know.

  Less than an hour later, she was standing on a platform in her Vera Wang gown, looking at her reflection through the three-sided mirror. What was staring back was a stranger.

  Tears slid down her cheeks before she had a chance to rein them in.

  “Oh, it’s just stunning on you!” Emma’s personal wedding assistant, as the high-end boutique like to call their associates, cooed at the sight of the bride, mistaking her tears for ones of joy as she fluffed the long, elegant train.

  “A minute, please?” Sommer stood from her cushioned seat and moved to Emma. Unlike the associate in the black suit, Sommer knew her.

  “Tell me what’s going on,” Sommer demanded, “And no more bullshit about pre-wedding jitters. This is me you’re talking to.”

  Without regard for the overpriced gown, Emma took a seat in one of the chairs, the dress poofing as she plopped down.

  “It doesn’t feel right.” She broke apart at the words she had refused to speak aloud for too long.

  “What doesn’t feel right?” Sommer asked with concern. “The dress?”

  “The dress, the wedding.” Emma sniffed and looked up to the ceiling as she wiped the tears, bits of makeup smearing a trail beneath her red-rimmed eyes. “Roland,” she finished as she brought her eyes to Sommer to gauge her reaction.

  Her friend watched her, unspeaking, her mouth opening and then closing again.

  “This doesn’t feel like it’s supposed to feel.” More tears streamed down her cheeks now, the floodgates of her truth open and unrelenting. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

  “It’s okay,” Sommer reassured, taking her hand again.

  Her dearest friend had no idea what to say, and given the fact that Emma had kept her feelings to herself for so long, she wasn’t surprised at the confusion filtering across Sommer’s features.

  “Let’s get you out of this dress and go talk,” Sommer offered as she pulled Emma to her feet and began the long, arduous process of unbuttoning each of the pearl buttons that went from the top of her neck to her lower back.

  When the attendant returned to the room, Sommer waved her out, ignoring the woman’s pleas that they had not yet finished with the fitting. “Another time,” she instructed firmly.

  By the time they left the boutique, Emma was exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in her bed and find peace in the only place where her doubts didn’t surface—her sleep.

  Once they reached Emma’s apartment, Sommer refused to let the conversation go. She stayed silent, and Emma knew she was waiting for her to unload her doubts when she was ready to do so. She changed into a pair of flannel pajamas and dropped onto her bed, pulling the feather comforter up to her waist.

  “Did Roland do something?” Sommer asked as she took a seat on the corner of Emma’s bed. “Is this because of his evil mother?” she continued when silence was her only response.

  “He hasn’t done anything.” She picked a few stray feathers from her comforter before making eye contact. “I just never expected that at twenty-four my life would look like this.”

  Sommer shook her head not understanding. On paper, Emma’s life looked picture perfect. She’d graduated from Cornell, and while she didn’t use her degree as she’d intended, her job was a prestigious one with a very respectable salary. Roland came from a good family, had more money than either of them would be able to spend in a lifetime, and treated her with nothing but respect. Of course, her relationship with her mother, or lack thereof, wasn’t ideal, and he’d accepted her for who she was. Well, he’d accepted the person she’d presented herself to be.

  “You’ve grown up a lot since I first met you, but it’s normal for dreams to evolve as we get older. It isn’t wrong to find new dreams, Emma.”

  “Yes, but are they my dreams or someone else’s?”

  She couldn’t tell her friend that she wanted to be back on a ranch in Texas, that she’d only given up her dreams because her heart had been so shattered, she didn’t think she could piece it back together again.

  “Only you know the answer to that question. But if Roland isn’t the person for you, there is no reason you should go through with the wedding.” She dipped her head to Emma and watched her closely. “Is that what you feel? That you don’t want to marry him?”

  Emma froze. Her mind shouted “YES!” so quickly it surprised even her. “I don’t know.” God, she was confused. Parts of her screamed that this was not it. He was not it. But when she thought about being without him, that didn’t feel right either.

  “You have time to figure this out; you don’t have to rush your decision. And if you want, I can handle everything for you.”

  The weight of that statement hit her hard. Vivian had handled most all of the wedding plans, and she couldn’t begin to imagine all the work it would take to undo what had been done. She didn’t want to let anyone down, and the last thing she wanted was to break Roland’s heart.

  She dropped down on the bed and closed her eyes, feeling Sommer’s movements as she laid down next to her.

  “I’ve got your back, whatever you decide.”

  She laced her fingers with Sommer’s, and they lay there in silence. Could she do this? Could she call the wedding off?

  Chapter 4

  Emma

  Emma stood on the balcony looking out over the now-familiar country club. These charity events were a staple in her life, and while she respected the cause of the week, as she liked to call Vivian’s projects, she didn’t want to be here.

  She wanted to fast forward to the end of the night where she and Roland would be having their “talk.” After a lot of thought, she realized that ending her relationship with her fiancé was not necessarily the right next step. The fact that her life had moved in a path that was no longer what she wanted wasn’t his fault. Yes, he’d encouraged her to take the job at Locke Pharmaceuticals despite the fact that his family owned the company, but ultimately, it was her decision. She couldn’t fault him for not pressing her to follow the path she wanted to take when she hadn’t been clear about her own dreams. Tonight, she would tell him exactly how she felt, what she wanted for herself, and she didn’t doubt that he would be there for her to make those dreams a reality.

  Her plans already had her feeling better, and she smiled as she returned to the ballroom and their assigned table, finding it empty. She scanned the room for Roland, but being that this was a masquerade ball, findin
g him among the crowd was more difficult than usual.

  She adjusted her feathered mask and smoothed the sheer layers of her long, flowing black gown before taking a seat at their table. This was her favorite of all the charity balls she’d attended; she was most at ease beneath a disguise and unrecognizable to everyone else.

  Her mother-in-law was easy to place in the crowd, her green ballgown as over the top as her exaggerated mannerisms, her arms moving as she spoke as if she were acting out an opera. She looked away quickly, not interested in coming off as if she was wanting to strike up a conversation with the woman.

  Her search for Roland was unyielding, and her eyes moved to a man dressed in an all-black tuxedo, his black mask looking like a more devious version of Batman’s. His eyes were locked on hers, and for a moment she forgot her manners, keeping their eye contact for too long. He was with another man, also clad in a tuxedo, although his was more traditional with a white dress shirt beneath it. She had to fight to look away from him, the pull between them so great she forgot to breathe.

  Gaining her senses, she looked away as she took a sip from her champagne glass. With part of her face hidden behind her glass she allowed herself another glance, but he was gone. The man he’d been standing next to was still there, and she followed his eyes through the crowd, landing on the man who’d captivated her attention so easily. He was walking toward her, his eyes still locked on her.

  She took a calming breath and tried to determine if she knew him. He was more than likely one of Roland’s associates, and she needed to remember that. The last thing she needed was to make a fool of herself in front of her fiancé and his family.

  “Hello.” He held out a hand, and she paused, not sure how to accept it. His palm was up as if he were trying to help her from her seat.

  Her gaze moved from his open palm to his blue eyes, still searching for the source of their heated recognition. Butterflies filled her stomach and her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. She hadn’t felt chemistry this intense since… Well, not in a long time. She found herself standing before she even recognized the action, desperate to touch the hand of the stranger before her.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, too stunned by her reaction to him to actually care about the destination.

  “To dance.” He looked over his shoulder at her and smiled as if she should have already known the answer.

  Roland wouldn’t care if she danced with someone. It was a charity event, after all, and she hated sitting alone at the table as he was out “networking,” as he liked to call it.

  “I really shouldn’t,” she found herself saying, but the words came out so empty she wasn’t surprised that he ignored them as he led her to the dance floor.

  His hand on her hip was intoxicating, feeling almost as if the heat behind it would burn a hole straight through her body. There was something so familiar about him, but the way he spoke, almost in a whisper, wasn’t a voice she recognized. Maybe he was an associate of Roland’s?

  “Do you attend many of these events?” she asked instead, for some reason not wanting to come straight out with the question.

  “First one.”

  She nodded at his clipped answer, confused that his words started out much louder, with a hint of an accent? It was only apparent for a brief moment before he returned to a much more soft-spoken tone.

  “Are you from around here?” she tried again. It wasn’t that the silence was uncomfortable, per se, but she curious about the stranger she was having such a profound reaction to.

  “No, only here for a visit.”

  With their height difference, she had to lift her head to look up at him, but his eyes remained on hers, staring at her in such a way she wanted to squirm. A good squirm. It had been so long since a man had caused such a profound reaction.

  His eyes were magnetic, an intriguing shade of bluish-green that instantly reminded her of the Caribbean. With his mask covering most of his face she was only able to make out his strong, rectangular jawline with just a hint of stubble on it, and his lips… Why did she want to taste them?

  “What do you do…”

  “Emmason,” she supplied, not sure why she’d given him her full name when she preferred to go by Emma. “I work at Locke Pharmaceuticals.”

  “You like it there?” His voice was still barely above a whisper, but the way he looked at her? It was as if what she said next was important to him.

  She shrugged, “It’s not exactly what I set out to do, but I enjoy the work.” It was a massive understatement she was only recently coming to terms with. Something felt off to her, and while nothing specific had occurred, she was fighting the urge to start looking for work elsewhere.

  “What do you do there?” The hand that was resting on her waist tightened slightly, pulling her body another inch toward him.

  She chose not to overanalyze his movements. They were dancing. He probably didn’t pull her closer, just shifted their direction. “I’m a veterinarian.”

  His head dropped to the side slightly, and she hated that she couldn’t see his face beneath the mask. “A veterinarian at a pharmaceutical company?”

  He stopped moving abruptly.

  “Wait,” she started. She hated describing her job. People loved to jump to conclusions about the type of work she did, and it was a huge pet peeve to her.

  “Animal testing?”

  He wasn’t judging. At least, it didn’t seem like he was judging her. He seemed more…shocked? Disappointed?

  “Yes, but hear me out.” Her eyes bore into his so he could see the seriousness of her request.

  He gave her a curt nod and she continued.

  “I agree that animal testing is not something that should be done in most cases. I myself don’t buy products like makeup and skincare lines that do animal testing. But when you are looking to find cures for things like cancer, autoimmune diseases…” She let her words hang there for a moment to convey the seriousness of the work they did. “To me, if it is done appropriately, with respect and care for the animals, it can be worth it.”

  He thought over her words for a few moments and starting moving his body to the music again, her body swaying against his to the slow beat.

  “What have you cured?” he asked thoughtfully.

  “Well, not me,” she stammered, “I mean I’m just responsible for—”

  “What have they cured?” he corrected, cutting her off.

  She hated what she saw in his eyes. She didn’t have to defend what she did for a living to a man who she didn’t even know. Why did his eyes convey such disappointment? She felt scolded, like it was her own mother looking down at her. Not mad, just disappointed. Worst parental words ever. She also didn’t have a good answer to his question, which bothered ever even more.

  “Let me guess,” he said on an exhale, “some real ground-breaking stuff like male enhancement products?”

  “Seriously?” She gaped. She wanted to say more; needed to say more. The truth was, she had some grandiose ideas about the type of work she would be doing at Locke Pharmaceuticals, about curing cancer and making a real difference. Sadly, he was much closer to the truth than she wanted to admit.

  “It isn’t my place to question you on the subject.” His eyes softened, taking some of the sting out of his words. “It just surprises me that someone with a pure love of animals would take that path.”

  She cocked her head to the side slightly, someone with a pure love of animals? Did he know her?

  “I mean, considering you got your degree to become a veterinarian,” he explained before lifting her chin so she would look at him again, “I didn’t mean any offense.”

  The way he looked at her… It melted her insides to the point where she felt like if he weren’t holding on to her she would fall onto the floor. She had to remind herself to breathe, and the only thing she felt was his hands on her and the beat of her thumping heart.

  Part of her wanted to be offended by his comments about her job, but
somehow this stranger seemed to see through her, like he knew what no one else did, that she wasn’t proud of what she did. If she were involved in finding a cure for cancer she would be proud, but he’d nailed it on the head when he mentioned male enhancement drugs. Locke Pharmaceuticals, not unlike all other pharmaceutical companies, was interested in creating drugs that made money. Not ones that would eliminate the need for further drugs. There was one drug that was currently being developed that could be something she was proud of. That is, if it lived up to the hype they were putting out. She was ready to land that little factoid on him when he changed the subject.

  “You married?” he asked as he looked down at her left hand, resting on his shoulder.

  He certainly was a man of few words. She caught herself shaking her head when she didn’t answer right away, as if she had awakened her mind to the present. His words were a splash of cold water to her traitorous body.

  “Engaged.” She looked over her shoulder, searching for her fiancé. “Roland Spurlock, over there with the white mask, gray feathers.” She pointed him out, her eyes taking him in as he spoke with a woman in a red dress and matching mask, his hand around her waist, her hand resting on his chest.

  To the average person, it didn’t look good. He often came off as flirtatious, and while it left her feeling embarrassed and, well, inadequate if she was being honest, he always explained that it was just business. Right now, though, her face was heated with humiliation.

  “Not a very smart guy?”

  Was that a statement or a question? “What?” she asked, bringing her attention back to the man she was dancing with.

  “Any man that would leave a woman like you alone couldn’t be very smart.”

  She eyed him, confused by his statement. “A woman like me?” She really wanted to take that as a compliment, but was it?