by T. K. Leigh
“So he’d rather watch her marry a man she doesn’t love than tell her the truth?”
She ponders my question for a moment. “I think he’ll do whatever’s necessary to ensure his daughter’s happiness.”
“Except tell her the truth.”
She shrugs. “In his mind, I think he truly believes that Wes does make her happy, that he’ll love and cherish her for the rest of his life. You have to admit, your track record doesn’t exactly help your case.”
“But I told him how much I love her!” I interrupt, throwing up my hands in frustration, tugging on my hair. “When he kicked me out of the hospital room and I begged him to come clean, I—”
“But have you ever shown her?”
I open my mouth, about to protest and argue I have, but not a single instance comes to mind, even though I can list dozens of occurrences that demonstrate how much she loves me. How she didn’t even hesitate to help me with the custody request. How she selflessly agreed to be at my side when I shared the news with the girls. How she stayed with me that night because she knew I was hurting and needed comfort. I always thought it was just in Brooklyn’s nature to put other people’s needs ahead of her own and that’s why she always did these things for me. But that’s not it at all. Every decision she’s made is because she loves me. And how did I return that love? By putting her in harm’s way.
“Sometimes it’s better to show someone our hearts, our feelings, with actions rather than words,” Ana’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “If you want to win her heart, you need to put yours out there, too. If you do that, I have a feeling you’ll get the girl.”
She heads toward the far wall and grabs one of the boxes, then passes me, about to disappear down the hallway.
“How do you know?” I ask, snapping out of my stupor.
The corners of her lips lift slightly, a knowing smirk crossing her mouth. “Want to know what song she’s been listening to every time I’ve stopped by to check on her?”
“What’s that?”
Her eyes brighten. “‘Crash Into Me’. Something tells me it’s not a coincidence, that it has something to do with you. Am I right?” She arches a brow.
I run a finger over my lips, the ghost of her mouth on mine making them tingle. “It was the song playing the first time I kissed her before I left for college.”
“There’s a part of her that hasn’t let go of you yet. You need to do something to bring that part of her back.”
She allows her words to sink in, then turns, continuing down the stairs.
I process what she said, my mind racing. A plan forming, I run after her. “Ana!”
She stops, leaning against the doorjamb, about to step onto the porch, a brow cocked.
“Think you can do me a favor?”
A sly grin crosses her mouth. “If it involves snapping that girl out of this funk, I’ll do anything.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Brooklyn
I stand on the pedestal in the fitting room of the boutique, staring at my reflection as I’m adorned in the wedding dress of my dreams, feeling like I’m watching a movie of someone else’s life. That’s how everything’s been lately. Like I’m simply going through the motions, doing what’s expected of me. No protest. No arguments. No life. I’m on an out-of-control freight train, too scared to jump off. Or maybe I just don’t care anymore.
Within a few hours of my discharge from the hospital, Wes’ mother was at his house, fussing over me, checking my scars and bruises. She tried to appear sympathetic, but I know the reason for her visit was simply to ensure they’d heal in time for the wedding. Wes looked to me, questioning, silently inquiring whether there would still be a wedding. I was too emotionally drained to fight it anymore. I still am, which is probably how I ended up here, three days before my wedding, having my final dress fitting, when just a few weeks ago, I was getting ready to break up with Wes.
I continue to stare at someone who looks alarmingly like me, except her eyes lack any life, her lips refuse to smile. I know what a broken heart feels like now. It’s the worst punishment one could be forced to suffer…my penance for how I betrayed Wes. I’m no longer living. I’m just existing, waiting for the time the universe believes I’ve learned my lesson and I’m allowed to smile, to laugh, to live.
“So you’re going through with it then, are you?”
A biting voice cuts through the silence and I snap my head in its direction. I suck in a hard breath when I see Molly standing in the entryway to the fitting room, her arms crossed in front of her stomach.
“How did you know where I was?” I ask in an even voice once my initial surprise wears off.
“Considering you haven’t answered any of my calls and it appears as if you’ve moved out of your place, I reached out to Ana.” She heads toward me, her blue eyes fierce, a stark juxtaposition to the lack of emotion in mine. “She was nice enough to tell me you had your final dress fitting today. As I’m sure you can imagine, my jaw fell to the fucking floor.”
Noticing the tension building in the room, the seamstress gets up from where she’s checking the small train. “I’ll give you two some privacy. The last adjustments are perfect. No need to make any more.”
I force a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” She scurries away.
“It looks good, for what it’s worth. But you’re walking down the aisle to the wrong person.”
I sigh, stepping off the pedestal, bunching the fabric in my hands as I head toward the private dressing area. “No, I’m not. I’m walking toward the person I should have been all along.”
“How could you think that? Drew loves you. I’ve never seen him so depressed, even after Carla left him.”
“He has a funny way of showing his love.” I start to duck into the dressing area, but Molly jumps in front of me, preventing me from running away from this conversation, one I’ve been avoiding for weeks.
“You need to pull your head out of your ass, Brooklyn. I love you, but you are so much smarter than this. You know as well as I do there’s nothing going on between Drew and Skylar. He found out she put Carla up to filing that petition for custody. He was at that game to get answers, confirmation of his suspicions. This sort of information could help him keep custody. When it comes to those girls, you know damn well Drew has a tendency to be blind to everything else…even prior commitments.”
I readjust my posture, waving dismissively. “That doesn’t matter. This entire ordeal has helped me realize something I’ve been in denial about for years.”
“Oh really? And what’s that?”
“That no matter how hard I try, I’ll never be able to trust him.”
“And what about Wes?” Her fiery eyes bore into me, her attack relentless, regardless of what I do or say. “Does he still trust you? Or did you not tell him about you and Drew?”
I narrow my gaze on her, my lips forming a tight line. “I told him. I was honest. He found it in his heart to forgive me.”
“Huh. Imagine that.” A vein in her forehead throbs as she cocks her head to the side.
“What?”
“No.” Molly brushes me off. “Must be nice to be with someone who can forgive so easily, not hold a grudge for nearly twenty years because of one misunderstanding.”
“What are you talking about?” A chill runs down my spine, my heart beating faster than it has in weeks…making me feel more alive than I have in weeks.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Brooklyn.” Her voice is a harsh whisper, the seconds seeming to stretch as she closes the distance between us once more. “I know about the night of Brody Carmichael’s party.”
My eyes widen, my mind racing. “Wha—”
“I know Drew stopped you from taking off your bra in front of a room of horny teenage boys.”
“Everyone heard about—”
“I also know he kissed you.” She pauses, allowing her words to linger in the air. “And I know you kissed hi
m back. Your first real kiss.” A slight smile crosses her face as she grabs my hands in hers, her anger waning. For the first time since the attack, I feel something other than the crushing heartache as the memory of that night returns with such clarity, it could have happened last night, not seventeen years ago. “And I know he made you a promise…to be your first.”
My momentary happiness dissipates as I’m reminded of my first heartbreak, one I hope to never relive. I yank my hands from hers. “A promise he broke, the first of many.”
Reaffirming my resolve that this is the right decision, I continue back toward the dressing room. Able to feel her eyes on me, I pause, glancing over my shoulder.
“I know it’s stupid because it was years ago, but when he broke that promise, he did more than break my heart. He crushed my ability to ever believe a word he said again.”
“So you think the answer is marrying someone you don’t love?”
“Wes loves me. And I love him. It may not be butterflies and fireworks, but the type of love we share is enough for me.” I hold my head high, doing my best to hide any indecision or vulnerability.
“Is this Brooklyn talking, or someone else?” she asks.
“What do you mean?”
“We’ve been friends for years, Brook. Years. Your father can be a bit overbearing. We all know that. So I want to know if this love you claim for Wes is real, or if someone else is insisting you love him.”
I blink repeatedly, my lips parting, on the verge of breaking down and baring my soul to Molly. Tell her I shut down, that I’m confused, that I don’t want to be here. But I’m not quite sure where I want to be, either.
“I’m sorry,” I say, avoiding her question. “I understand if you no longer want to be at the wedding, since you obviously don’t support it. I won’t harbor any hard feelings.”
“You’re ridiculous,” she hisses, throwing her arms up in frustration, stomping from me. Just as she’s about to turn the corner into the showroom, she stops, meeting my eyes.
“You know, I used to think Drew didn’t deserve someone as caring and compassionate as you.” Her voice is soft, solemn. Then her eyes harden, her mouth turning into a sneer. “I was wrong. You don’t deserve someone as caring and compassionate as Drew.” She whirls around, storming away.
“I know I don’t,” I whisper.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Brooklyn
A celebratory atmosphere surrounds me as I stand at Wes’ side, scanning the large room in an upscale restaurant on the Waterfront of Boston. Waitstaff in bow ties circle the space, carrying trays of hors d’oeuvres and champagne. This is supposed to be our rehearsal dinner, a small gathering of wedding party members, after going through the ceremony for tomorrow. I should have known Mrs. Bradford would turn it into a huge event. There’s over a hundred people in attendance. If this is just the rehearsal dinner, I shudder to consider how long the guest list is for the actual ceremony.
I force a smile as I listen to Wes go on about one of his latest designs. I should be interested in what he does for a living, but it’s like he’s speaking a foreign language. It’s all he’s talked about since we arrived here over an hour ago. Now, as I watch him joke and laugh with several of his high-paying clients, the Wes I thought I was marrying nowhere to be found in this complete stranger standing next to me, I’ve never felt so invisible.
As I shift my gaze around our semi-circle, I observe the women clinging to their husband’s arm. They all wear the same expression. Tight lips. Small smile. Vacant eyes. Like they’ve resigned themselves to a life of only being known as the wife of someone, not as who they are. Do they know who they are? Or have they lost their identity to the man they married? I shiver at the thought of that happening to me. A voice inside tells me perhaps it already has. I’ve already agreed to give some thought to resigning from my job so I can focus on grad school. How much longer until Wes convinces me to step away from that, as well, so I can accompany him on the multitude of business trips that are scheduled over the next several months?
Removing my hand from Wes’ arm, I quietly slip away, not interrupting their conversation. Part of me hopes my departure will force him to stop, maybe ask if I’m okay. But he doesn’t. Instead, the circle of men closes, swallowing up where I just stood, as if I’d never been there in the first place.
Needing something stronger than champagne to quiet the doubt filling me, I head to the bar. The instant I approach, a bartender sets a napkin on the counter.
“What can I get you?”
“Three fingers of the best scotch you have. Neat.”
He lifts a brow, then turns, reaching for a dark bottle on the top shelf. His height helps him grab it with little effort. When he returns, he places a rocks glass in front of me and pours. “Rough night?” He pushes it toward me.
“Rough couple of decades, I suppose.”
“I’ll have one of those, too,” a familiar voice says as I sip. I peer over my glass, my shoulders relaxing when I see my father’s girlfriend standing there.
“Ana…”
I place my drink on the counter, then wrap my arms around her, hugging her tighter than I planned. I have no one else in my life right now, other than Wes and my dad, who Ana’s been dating for the past ten years. They met in a grief support group. She’d lost her husband years ago and still has trouble coping with it occasionally. She’s been one of the best things to happen to my father. Since they started dating, he’s been less focused on me and more focused on living life. I suppose I have her to thank for that.
“Where’s Dad?” I pull back, glancing over her shoulder.
“There was a line of cars waiting to valet. He had me come in while he dealt with that.”
I laugh sarcastically. “I’m sure he’s thrilled about that. He has no patience.”
She rolls her eyes, bringing her scotch to her lips. “Ain’t that the truth.”
Silence settles between us as we stand by the bar and sip on our drinks. The party continues around us, everyone seemingly oblivious to our presence, even though I’m the guest of honor.
“So… Excited about tomorrow?” Ana asks after a while.
I swallow hard, grit out the fake smile I’ve worn all evening, and give her the same canned response I have memorized at this point. “Absolutely. Wes and I are so excited about starting our lives together.”
She studies me for a moment, then shifts her eyes around the room. “I don’t see Molly or Gigi.” She pauses. I sense what’s coming next. “Or Drew.”
Bringing my glass back to my mouth, I take a large gulp, grateful for the burn as it travels down my throat and coats my stomach. “I don’t expect them to be here.”
She scrutinizes me even longer, then gestures out the grand doors leading to the terrace overlooking the water. “Want to go outside? I could use a cigarette.”
I smile, grateful for the reprieve from my own party. “Of course.”
I know how much my father hates when she smokes. She’s tried to quit on more than one occasion, and some days, she can go without craving a single puff. But other days, when the pain of losing her husband is too much, she needs it. I don’t blame her. I’m not a smoker, but there have been quite a few times over the past few weeks I’ve considered taking it up.
Once we’re outside, I exhale a breath, basking in the June air. We’re not in the heat of the summer yet, so the temperatures are still comfortable, even a little crisp as the sun sets in the west. White party lights hang on strands overhead, making the outdoor patio inviting, but the dark clouds offshore threatening rain keep the party inside.
Ana lights a cigarette and takes a drag. I sip on my drink, looking over the ocean. I feel much less suffocated now that I’m outside, now that I’m with someone who cares about me. I can finally breathe and be me, be the Brooklyn I was before I allowed Drew to break my heart for the last time.
“I ran into Drew earlier this week,” Ana says, cutting through the silence.
I wh
ip my eyes toward hers, unable to hide my surprise. “What?”
“Yup. When I went to get the rest of the boxes from your house, he was there.”
I blink, processing this information. “What was he doing there?” My voice is timid, as if I already know the answer.
She takes another drag off her cigarette, exhaling the smoke away from me. “My guess… Hoping to talk to you.” Her eyes lock with mine, my stomach feeling sour. The sound of a familiar laugh reaches me and I glance back inside. The expression on Wes’ face as he chuckles at something a client must have said is so fake, it makes me question everything I thought I knew about him. I feel like I don’t really know him. But do I know Drew? I’m no longer sure of that, either.
“Are you in love with him?” Ana’s voice cuts through.
“Drew? Of course not.” I lower my eyes, staring at the jewel-studded Jimmy Choo shoes Wes bought me. I’d often longed for the day I’d be able to wear some of the beautiful designer shoes Molly wrote about in her books. I didn’t think I’d ever be so lucky.
Ana’s hand lands on my forearm and I slowly lift my gaze back to hers. “I’m not talking about Drew. I’m talking about Wes, the man you’re less than twenty-four hours away from marrying.”
“Of course I do.” I swallow hard, my tone anything but convincing.
She nods, the motion almost imperceptible, particularly to anyone who doesn’t know Ana well. But I do. She’s been a permanent fixture in my life the past decade. Without so much as a word, she can sense my inner turmoil, the turmoil I’ve spent the past several weeks trying to convince myself didn’t exist. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t erase the pain of Drew’s eyes as he pleaded with me to believe him. It was so true, so compelling, so…real. More real than anything else in my life, including the love Wes claims he has for me.
“Did I ever tell you I was engaged to another man before I married Gavin?”
I slowly shake my head. “You’ve never talked about Gavin much.” I take a sip of my scotch. “Or maybe I never asked because I knew how hard it was for my father to talk about my mother.”