“Not on purpose. He saw the invite. It broke him, D. I didn’t think he’d show up. Jamie is trying to convince him to leave, but you know how stubborn he can be.”
I rub the back of my neck. “Jesus. This can’t be happening.”
Not only do I not want to run the risk of Oliver messing up this wedding, how am I meant to follow through when he’s right there looking at me?
“Take a breath,” Caiden says, squeezing my shoulders. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Who are you trying to convince?” I ask, attempting a smile.
“I don’t know what more to say. This is so fucked up and you know it. But if you’re not backing out, then we need to get moving. Hopefully, Jamie will have talked him into leaving.”
I run a hand down my suit, feeling the smooth fabric beneath my palm. Then I nod and head towards the door, ready to do what needs to be done.
Chapter 27
Oliver
My starched shirt sticks uncomfortably to my skin and I can’t get comfortable in my seat. I shuffle in position, crossing my legs at the ankles before moving them beneath the chair. I undo the top buttons on my shirt, thankful I didn’t wear a tie, then fiddle with the ribbon on the bouquet tied to the chair in front of me. There’s an orange rose in the centre of it and I pull it out and run my finger over the silky petals and down to the sharp spike of the thorn. All the while, I keep my eyes downcast.
Music plays and I look up in time to see Caiden walk down the aisle, taking his seat next to Jamie.
The officiant stands in the middle of the stage, the other groom to his right. All eyes are on the door and my heart clenches painfully when Darius enters. He notices me immediately, his eyes lighting up for a brief second before they dull again, though there’s no surprise in them, as if he knew I was here – I presume Caiden told him I was. We stay locked on to each other as I’m hit with a flash of memories. Of us laughing. Kissing. Happy.Together. Of all the things we did and still had to do. I told him I hated him for what he did to me, to us, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. He may have betrayed me, but he will also always be the best thing to have ever happened to me. Having him in my life for those few short months was better than never having him at all.
I break our gaze, looking to the side of the room where a large window shows the heavy clouds have broken, rain pouring down like tears from the sky.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Darius move away, and then I finally allow myself to look at him again. He’s wearing orange and black – I can count how many times I’ve seen him wearing black on one hand – I’m surprised he isn’t in something more colourful, more him, for his big day. I try not to think of the beautiful lace he probably has on under that suit. Does Floyd love it as much as I do? Does he loveDariusas much as I do?
When he reaches the front, Darius takes his position and the other man smiles at him. He doesn’t return the gesture, and there’s this uncomfortable feeling in my gut that tells me something is wrong. I bat it away, no longer trusting my intuition. I mean, he cheated on me for how long and I never once got the feeling it was happening. I still can’t even wrap my head around when, how, or why.
Darius’s eyes meet mine once again and this time, he’s the first to look away when the officiant speaks. My heart beats frantically as my world slowly closes in around me. When the officiant asks if there is anyone who objects to the union, it’s almost comical how quickly Darius, Caiden and Darcey all look my way.
I bite my lip and look at my hands, clenched together on my lap, the rose discarded on the floor. The room remains silent for a moment before the ceremony continues. It’s short and perfunctory and when it’s announced that the two men are nowmarried, I stand up and walk out. I don’t care that my chair scrapes loudly on the wooden floor as I do, or that I let the door slam a little harder than necessary behind me.
Outside, I stand in the storm, letting the rain soak through my clothes until I’m shivering, then I start my slow journey home.
I got my closure and it hasn’t made an ounce of a difference.
Chapter 28
Darius
I’m sitting on my bed, my legs crossed beneath me as I page through a magazine, when the doorbell rings. Floyd is in the lounge, so I don’t bother getting up, leaving him to deal with whoever’s stopping by on a Sunday evening. It’s been two weeks since we got married, and to say it’s been an uncomfortable two weeks is an understatement.
The wedding went as well as could have been expected. I drank away my sadness and can only vaguely remember Caiden helping me into the limo at the end of the night. I woke up on the sofa, still in my suit, with a rather pissed off Floyd hovering over me and a headache bad enough to kill a horse.
We don’t eat together, we simply co-exist. The only time we’ve ventured out as a ‘couple’ was to visit his family. And I hated that day because not only did he insist I change out of the purple body suit and white jeans I was wearing and into something ‘more acceptable’, but I had to spend the afternoon lying to people who, unlike him, are lovely.
During the week, I take as many shifts at the coffee shop as I can, running myself dry just to have a reason to be out of the house and away from myhusband,who works from the home office he set up shortly after we moved in. I don’t even know what he does, and I don’t really care. I’m literally counting down the days until this is over.
“Seven hundred and sixteen days, Norman,” I say to my betta fish. “And then we can go home.” I get up and open the top of his tank, then sprinkle in a little food. He swims up to the surface, grabbing at the flakes, his beautiful blue fins spreading out as he glides through the water.
I startle when there’s a bang on my door and I close the lid, cross the room and pull the door open.
“What?” I snap, irritated that Floyd would bother me in the only place I find any sense of solace now that my life’s been tipped upside down.
“Sweet boy, we have guests.” His eyes are hard, betraying his honey smooth words, which means there is someone here that we have to put on an act for. He glances at my pink shorts and baggy white tee before dropping his voice. “Put something on that doesn’t make you look like a slut.” Then he smiles – all teeth and fake charm and turns and walks away. “He’s finishing up in his office,” I hear him say to whoever is here.
My office. Because we don’t have separate rooms – why would a happy newlywed couple have their own bedrooms?
