Crushed (Collided Book 2)

by Portia Moore

  I focus on the appetizers, trying to forget about the secrets and lies that have plagued this family, including the one I’m smack dab in the middle of. The food is delicious, the wine is dry but strong, and I smile over at Alex as I take a sip of it.

  We order our entrees, and the conversation around the table picks up. Jackson is talking to Alex about the stock market, and I’m surprised to hear Alex carrying on an easy conversation with him about it. And then I remember what Alyssa said, that once upon a time he worked in the corporate world, and was in the rat race with everyone else—the house, the job, the whole nine yards. Of course he knows about the stock market. Once that sort of thing mattered to him.

  My stomach clenches when I see Alex glance down the table towards Holly once or twice, but for the most part he seems to be relaxing and forgetting about the fact she’s there. We dig into our entrees when they come—it’s the best food I’ve ever had by far—and now and then Alex’s hand slips under the table and touches my thigh. I wonder if he’ll creep upward but he doesn’t. I’m both slightly relieved and disappointed.

  Just before the waiter brings dessert—tiramisu and coffee for the table—Tiffany comes down and slips into a vacant seat next to Alex. She leans forward to hug him, her face bright and happy. “Thank you so much for coming,” she says as she releases him. “You certainly didn’t have to and I know weekend nights are busy for you…it was really sweet of you.”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Alex says sincerely, but I can see the upset expression on his face again. Tiffany sees it too, and her brow furrows.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He lets out a long sigh. “What is she doing here?!”

  Tiffany bites her lower lip and looks down at her lap, looking embarrassed. “I know,” she says softly. “She’s my best friend Alex.” Tiffany says her eyes sad and her expression hurt.

  “Your bridal party, Tiffany? To not give me any warning?!” And my heart flinches for the pain in Alex’s eyes, and the pain her brother is in finally seems to dawn on her. I haven’t seen him look this vulnerable other than the day he came to Mel’s apartment and told me everything.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t really have any excuse. And I should have warned you she’d be here tonight.” Tiffany looks up at him, her eyes shimmering. “Please forgive me?”

  It’s her night, and I know that’s why Alex relents and hugs her, telling her that it’s okay. He doesn’t want to ruin this and I love him for it, but as much as I like Tiffany, the whole thing leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I can’t imagine how she can stay friends with her, knowing what she did to her brother.

  I think that I’m going to avoid having to talk to Holly, but I quickly find out just how wrong I am. After dessert I kiss Alex quickly on the cheek and excuse myself to go to the bathroom, and as I’m coming out to wash my hands I see Holly at the sink, reapplying her lipstick. I freeze momentarily, but I’m the one who has every right to be here. She’s the one who doesn’t.

  I go to the restroom and wait to hear the door shut to indicate she left, but the door doesn’t make a sound. Okay, she must be waiting on me. After I finish I take a deep breath and open the door to the stall, not surprised to see her standing at the sink and still reapplying her lipstick. I glance at her, planning to ignore her.

  “Still around, I see,” she says, keeping her gaze on herself in the mirror, and I do the same. I wash my hands and try to decide if I’ll give her a response; by the time I finish I decide I will.

  “I plan on being around for a long time, despite the lies you told me to try to make that not happen,” I tell her with just a hint of sharpness in my voice.

  “I didn’t lie you to you,” she says flippantly, now turning towards me.

  “You are his ex-wife, you and him have nothing in common anymore but shitty memories,” I say and lock eyes with her to let her know I know exactly why she’s out of the picture. She turns slightly away from me with a grin.

  “Alex loved me. He loved our life and I made a mistake, a terrible one. I should have told him but he just needs time…I know he still loves me,” she fires back and from her expression it looks like she believes every bit of what she says. I shrug and fold my arms, laughing.

  “I think you’re delusional, but let’s say you’re right, and he does still love you. One thing I can say for sure is that he’ll never forgive you,” I tell her easily and her smug expression disintegrates.

  “Excuse me,” I say stiffly, “I have to get back to Alex.” I saunter past her with more confidence than I feel but I convey it well until I’m out of the bathroom. The second I am I let out a long cleansing breath, and ignore my stammering heart because yeah, I scored a point on Holly, but the truth is I’m terrified that if Alex ever found out my secret that I’d be in the same boat she is. It’s all I can do not to cry as I make my way back to the table.

  When I get back to the restaurant most people are up from the table and mingling. I don’t see Alex at our section and as I make my way over to find him I’m stopped by a light touch on my shoulder.

  I turn around thinking it’s Tiffany and that she put together that Holly and I were both in the restroom together. She has to know her bestie is a major bitch but when I see the face that belongs to the hand it’s Cassandra. She looks as beautiful as the first time I met her: tall, blonde, and gorgeous. Her hair falls in soft waves to her shoulder, and she’s wearing a powder-blue pencil dress draping her slender body that curves in just the right places. I try to snap my brain back on but all my thoughts seem clouded, my tongue heavy. I think of how confident and self-righteous I was with Holly and how now I am her. Of course she doesn’t know that, but I do and it makes me sick.

  “You look beautiful tonight,” she says warmly and I try to focus my eyes on her gleaming Chanel earrings. I wonder if they were a gift from Jackson.

  “Thank you Mrs. Scully,” I tell her, trying to calm my beating heart. She lightly touches my elbow and leads me to the balcony of the restaurant.

  “Call me Cassandra, please. We’re practically family.” She grins as we walk together. I keep up with her even though my legs feel a hundred pounds each.

  “We haven’t really had a chance to talk with how hectic everything has been with the wedding so I thought I’d steal some time now,” she finishes as we reach the patio. I smile and hope it isn’t as tight as it feels on my face.

  “Your family is lovely Mrs.…Cassandra,” I correct myself.

  “We try,” she says with a soft grin.

  “I haven’t seen Alex in a while. Of course, I hadn’t seen him in a while other than recently after the whole debacle.” She sighs, doing a little wave with her hand. I nod.

  “He loves you guys. I’m so glad everything is good again,” I tell her honestly, and pray that it stays that way.

  “Will you be attending Tiffany’s bridal shower?” she asks and I remember the invitation I had received about a week ago.

  “I was trying to see if I could work it in but I don’t think I’ll be able to. My sister just got engaged as well and I’ll be with her to help her start with the planning.”

  “Oh that’s wonderful, it certainly is the season of love,” she tells me with a squeeze and I gulp, thankful that my trip back home with Melissa coincides with the shower. I’m not sure I could handle being in a room with Holly and Cassandra at the same time without Alex as a buffer.

  “We’d love to have you and Alex for dinner once you’re back.” She beams and I realize how much she looks like Vanna White.

  “Of course, that’d be great.” I try not to look as if I’m going to throw up.

  “Wonderful. Jackson has been so thrilled since he and Alex have mended their fences. This wedding has made everything as it should be,” she says with a wistful smile. An older woman approaches us; she looks like Cassandra, just a tad younger.

  “Madison, this is my sister Adrianna,” she says and we both shake hands.

  “I’ve heard suc
h good things about you,” she gushes quickly with the same warmness her sister showed. “I’m going to steal her for a bit,” she says before she pulls her away. Cassandra flashes an apologetic smile but I’m so glad to get out of her presence.

  I feel like I can breathe again. I make my way through the crowd, crossing my fingers in the hope I will avoid Jackson and bump into Alex, but when I see Alex he’s standing right next to the person I wanted to avoid most. I decide to just make a beeline back to our table but he sees me and gives me the panty-dropping smile that’s made me drop mine more than once, and gestures for me to come over. Jackson’s smile falter just a bit before recovering. I resign myself to walk over to them. Once I reach them Alex pulls me by the waist towards him and leans down, giving me a breathtaking kiss on the lips that’s both wonderful and incredibly awkward.

  “We were just talking about you babe,” he says gleefully, his emotions visibly amplified with the aid of the dark liquid in the cup he’s holding. Alex typically drinks white and I see the dark-colored liquor that matches Jackson’s has trickled into his veins and made him feel invincible.

  “Oh yeah, what were you saying?” I ask, squeezing his arm while my eyes avoid his dad’s.

  “What a great addition you’ve been to the office. Jane can’t stop raving about you,” Jackson says. His voice is smooth and normal-sounding, not guilt-laced like how I feel mine is whenever I’m around him or his wife.

  “I’m grateful for the opportunity,” I reply, making sure my voice doesn’t come off like ice.

  “You deserve it,” he says with a nod. I can feel the tenseness of the moment and I wonder if Alex wasn’t tipsy, if he would as well. Thankfully the awkwardness doesn’t last long because we’re joined by one of Alex’s cousins and another relative I’ve never met. I get to be arm candy while the men converse about things I’m not interested in, though I can’t help but notice how Jackson’s eyes flit to me every so often. Then I realize that my eyes must be on him if I notice.

  14

  I’m 36,000 feet up in the air and on my way to meet with Mel and my mom for all things wedding, and I’m actually excited to see them. I even make a pact with myself to avoid bringing up our father, Robert, on this trip. This is about her, and if Alex can get through a dinner with his horrible ex-wife to keep the peace for his sister’s wedding, I can avoid blurting out what’s happened with our sperm donor, which is easy since most likely Mel and my mother would only say they told me so.

  Which wouldn’t be exactly correct. They haven’t told me anything that happened, and nothing really happened other than me shouting at him and making a fool of myself.

  After I get off the plane and grab my luggage I prepare to call an Uber but as

  I come down the escalator, I see my mom standing there, waving excitedly. A surge of happiness washes over me; I hadn’t expected her to be there waiting. I give her a quick hug, and she wraps her arms tightly around me. She smells just like I remember—powdery Chanel perfume, one of her only indulgences. It makes me feel briefly homesick, and although I miss Alex already, I’m glad to be back for the weekend.

  “Melissa is losing her mind,” she confides in me as we drive back to the house. “All these years catering weddings, and I don’t think she’s ever thought about her own.”

  “I thought for sure she’d have binders of pictures and plans and ideas, but she’s completely lost other than they want to do it in the spring. But not too early, because they want to have it here in Chicago, and of course it stays cold for a while. I mean, for goodness’ sake, we had snow in April last year.”

  “Trust me, I remember.”

  “I think the shopping trip will be good for her.” It’s small talk but it’s easy and welcomed and we continue it until we’re in the car. Once we’re both in she reaches across the car and squeezes my hand. “It’s going to be so good to spend some time with both of my girls. I miss you, Madison.”

  “I miss you too.” I tell her sincerely.

  “How is Alex? Any signs that there might be a second wedding on the horizon?” She winks at me, and I can’t help but smile back.

  “Mom! We’re good, but we’re not rushing into anything.”

  “That’s good to hear. You even considering it is a long way from where you were with Ryan. What about kids?”

  “We’re supposed to be talking about Melissa, remember.” I remind her with a laugh.

  She waves her hand carelessly. “Oh, I already know all about what Melissa wants. But I haven’t talked to you in a while, not really talked to you.”

  The subject changes to something less loaded, and I find myself relaxing more and more. I’m glad I decided to focus on something other than all of the things that are stressing me out. By the time we get to the house and settle in, I realize I haven’t thought about Jackson, the secret, or my father in at least an hour.

  By the time the afternoon rolls around we’re meeting Melissa for our bridal shopping trip. She pops up at my mom’s thirty minutes before we’re supposed to leave, coffee for each of us in hand, looking perkier and happier than I’ve ever seen her. I’m shocked she’s wearing something pretty similar to what I have on—skinny jeans, leather flats, and a t-shirt with a light jacket. Hers is leather, and looks expensive; mine is denim. Her hair is loose and curled, while I opted to put mine up in a slightly messy bun; but other than that it’s obvious that we’re sisters. I haven’t felt as if we have much in common in a long time, and it’s nice to feel as if we look similar, like other people might think we’re related. My heart flinches when Kristen’s face passes through my thoughts.

  If Mel’s still bearing a grudge over the way we left things the weekend of her engagement, she’s not letting on. She’s all smiles, handing out coffee and going over the shops she has listed on her phone, and the order she wants to visit them in. “This one has the bridesmaids’ dresses I’m pretty sure I want,” she says enthusiastically, and I nod and smile along with her. I’m almost positive that I’m going to hate what she chooses, but she’s my sister, and I’ll happily wear the worst of bridesmaids’ dresses if it means she’ll have the perfect wedding day. We have our differences, but I really want this to be perfect for her.

  We make it to the first store right on time, and the saleslady who greets us shows us a place to sit, hands us mimosas (since it’s “still before lunchtime”), and asks Melissa to show her ideas of what she might want in a bridal gown.

  Melissa looks slightly blank. “I really don’t know,” she says hesitantly.

  “Any inspirational photos you might want to show me? An Instagram? A Pinterest board?” The saleslady looks slightly desperate, and Mel shakes her head.

  “You were so prepared with the appointments,” I whisper as the saleslady slips away to try to choose a few things to start. “You really have no idea what you want?”

  Melissa shakes her head. “I never really pictured myself doing this,” she says nervously. “I wear the same basic thing for work every day. I don’t know what kind of gown would look good on me. What if I look terrible in all of them?”

  I can’t imagine my beautiful sister, with her thick, gorgeous hair and worked-hard-for perfect body looking terrible in any wedding dress. “You’re going to look amazing,” I tell her sincerely. “You’ve just got to figure out what your style is. And I think somewhere in the four bridal shops you have scheduled for us today, you’ll find it.”

  The saleslady bustles back then with several gowns draped over her arm, just in time. She ushers Melissa into one of the fitting rooms, yanks the heavy pale cream satin curtain closed, and then we wait.

  It’s all my mother and I can do not to burst out laughing when Melissa emerges in an absolute cupcake of a dress. It’s full-on Cinderella, from the sweetheart corset top to the huge, puffy skirt. Melissa looks disgruntled, and barely looks in the mirror. “This isn’t the one,” she says flatly, narrowing her eyes when she sees how hard we’re trying not to giggle. “Please, for the love of God, ge
t me out of this.”

  The saleslady doesn’t look nearly as amused.

  The next one is better, although I still don’t think it’s Melissa. It’s an all-over lace gown, with a high neckline that comes to just below her jaw, sleeveless and fitted at the bodice and hips, fluting out at the bottom. There are buttons from the nape of her neck to the floor, and it’s a truly gorgeous gown, but Melissa looks stiff and uncomfortable. It’s the same in the next, another all-over lace but with long sleeves and a deep V.

  “I think we’re done here.” Mel sighs after the saleslady laces her into another corset dress, this one with a detachable lace shrug and a mermaid skirt. “Thanks for your help.”

  “Well at least you know some of the things you don’t like,” I reassure her as we make our way to the next appointment.

  “No corsets,” Melissa says firmly. “I can tell them that right off the bat.”

  She does tell the saleswoman at the next store that, and as we’re served more champagne—“We’re going to wind up tipsy by the end of this,” my mother whispers conspiratorially—she disappears into yet another dressing room.

  This time there’s no corseted dresses, but the first is another cupcake dress, this one with a lacy bodice, cap sleeves, and a puffy tulle skirt. “It’s really pretty,” I tell her as she looks in the mirror. “But I don’t think you want a ‘princess’ dress, do you?”

  “No. But I don’t know what I do want,” Melissa says plaintively.

  “You’ll know when you see it.” I shrug. At least that’s what I hear in the movies and I suddenly wish I’d brought Parker with me. She’s been a wedding expert extraordinaire since she’s gotten engaged, though she won’t walk down the aisle until after Mel does. Mel’s getting married only eight months from the date Greg proposed. His grandfather isn’t in the best health and his family wants him to be there.