by Mia Kayla
"Angie." It was my mother, right behind us.
"You're bat shit crazy," Tene seethed, her eyes tight, hand balled up into fists by her side.
When my mother leaned in to drop my cheek against hers, I deflected and pulled back. "What's your game here?"
She smiled her fake smile—the one that she gave Tene when she pretended she wasn't upset but really was. "I'm not sure what you're talking about."
My chest tightened because I could read the malice in her features. How could she manipulate me like this? I’d seen my mother do some crazy things in my life, but this seemed to top them all.
I sat next to Tene, who rocked back and forth in her chair, her eyes flitting around the room. Her sweaty palm reached for mine under the table and gave me a squeeze. "I really think we need to commit her," she whispered in my ear.
I would’ve laughed if my stomach wasn't tied in triple Boy Scout knots. My mother wasn't crazy; she just always got whatever she wanted, whenever she thought she was right.
When I gripped Tene’s hand in a tight vise for support, she stood and yanked us away from the table. "Angie and I are going to the potty room."
I didn't have a say in the matter as she dragged me down the hall into the bathroom and into the handicap stall.
"I swear I had no idea and I didn't know what she was up to."
"I know." My bottom lip quivered, the floor beneath me feeling as though it would swallow me whole. We said nothing, and she simply pulled me into her and continually rubbed my back. I basked in her embrace because that was all I needed—someone on my side.
"Why the hell did Mom insist on coming here today? What does she know?" Tene asked.
When I stiffened, Tene jerked back to assess my face. "How the hell did she find out?"
I nodded, feeling bile creep up my throat. "She saw us together."
Tene threw up her hands. "Angie. Four words. Just don't get caught." She paced the stall, talking out loud. “But you did, so now we need a solution. How are we going to get you out of this? We have to think.”
I couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the thoughts reigning in my head. Despair was gripping me. What am I going to do?
What I needed to do was find Cade first.
Determination firmed up my shoulders, and I straightened, ready to find Cade and warn him about my family being here. One thing I didn’t want him to be was blindsided.
Tene continued to babble. "Yep, she knows, and that's why she pushed this dinner to show Cade that you’re already taken. Maybe coming here once was a mistake, but twice ... yep ... not so much."
"Why would she do that?" I asked.
A slew of voices carried into the bathroom, indicating we were no longer alone.
Tene’s voice went down a notch. "You don't know her as well as I do. Mother always will want to get her way. And she wants you with Roland. I want to secure your happiness, too, but the difference between her and me is I wouldn't sabotage your life to do it."
At that, Tene stormed out of the stall. Two women eyed us as we walked out together.
"Thanks, honey." Tene threw an arm over my shoulder and smiled. "I really didn't know how to stick that tampon in."
When we exited the bathroom, Tene pulled me closer. “You’re not feeling well. I’m going to tell them I’m taking you home, okay? I’m getting you out of this.”
I snuggled into her side, thankful that I could always count on her. I was leaving, but not before I did what I had to do. “I have to find Cade. He’s expecting me, and I’d rather he sees me first than Roland and the whole family here.”
When we walked in the room, Cade was at the bar. It was as though I felt him before I saw him because I could feel the blood pumping in my veins and the air in the room evaporate. I lifted my head to meet his eyes. The muscle in his jaw ticked, which made me want to rush toward the bar and wrap my arms around him, ending this torture—my torture.
His face was unreadable, but his eyes flew to behind me. When I turned around, his eyes locked, not with Roland's, but with my mother’s.
Her face was stoic, and if her eyes could talk, she would be throwing him a slew of curse words. Sweat formed on the back of my neck as I witnessed a fury behind my mother's eyes directed at the man I was in love with. It was a war without words as her glances flickered between him and me.
I decided I’d had enough, and that I’d put us all through this misery. I turned to walk to the bar, but Tene gripped my forearm and whispered, “Not now.” She tipped her head toward my father’s direction who was talking to Roland’s father. When our eyes met, he smiled.
Reluctantly, I sat down, promising myself that I’d explain this whole fiasco to Cade later and beg for his forgiveness. I needed to get this shit show over and done with.
My mother smiled my way before standing and lifting her wineglass, tapping her fork against it to get everyone's attention.
I doubted Cade could hear anything she had to say, but he could see her. She smiled big and spoke with such happiness that made my stomach churn because it was for Cade's non-benefit.
She lifted the wine glass. "I want to make a toast and thank everyone for getting together today. We all know this hasn't been the easiest week for us." My father shifted in his seat as all eyes glanced in his direction. "It's just so nice to get the family together to celebrate life and love." She motioned her glass toward Roland. "Thanks, Roland, for making reservations. But most of all for loving this family, and above all, for loving our daughter to pieces."
Everyone clinked their glasses together, and I gritted my teeth into a forced smile.
Tene gripped my thigh, her eyes feverish and darting around the room.
When Roland reached for my hand on the table, I flinched. What was his game? He knew we were over. When he bent down to kiss me in front of our families, I stiffened, shocked by the contact.
It was only a soft peck on my lips, feather light, but it felt like a gun in a mouth, locked and loaded. I couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't smile, couldn't turn around to see if Cade was watching because I knew he was.
For the show, I told myself. This is for the show. But I wanted this part of the movie—this scene—to end. I was ready to write the rest of my story, not have it written out for me.
I nonchalantly pulled away, placing a hand on his chest, keeping my eyes on everyone around me, simply ignoring Roland. Anger clouded my vision, warmth reaching the tips of my ears when Roland stood next to me and lifted his glass to follow my mother's speech.
"To Dad, we're praying for a swift and healthy recovery,” he said, his gaze on my father. “It's good to get everyone together once in a while to celebrate life and love.” When he shifted his gaze toward me, my whole body turned icy cold. Acid burned the back of my throat, making it difficult to swallow. "I love Angelica like she's my next breath. I fell in love with her when I was sixteen and to think how far we've come. We're basically family, and now ..."
Then he did the unthinkable. “I want to make it official.” He dropped to one knee, and my whole body went rigid. My one hand flew to my throat, the other gripping the table to keep me steady.
This is not happening, this is not happening!
The ringing in my ears intensified to an unbearable volume, and I blinked, seeing black spots behind my eyelids. His mouth kept moving, yet I didn’t hear a word. I was having an out of body experience as the people around me cheered without sound. As though the whole scene was on mute.
I glanced at everyone's faces around me—my mother's, who was standing right beside Roland—his mother, Tene in complete shock and disbelief. If anything, she understood me. After our talk, she knew if I said yes, I'd be making the biggest mistake of my life.
Everyone's eyes were on me. Not just my family’s, but all of the patrons at the restaurant, the whole staff ... and Cade’s. The people in our vicinity were elated, eyes wide, all smiling and staring at me with expectation, waiting for an answer.
Finally, I
heard Roland say, "Angelica Armstrong, will you marry me?" His eyes were full of hope and happiness, and as surprised, panicked, and angry as I was, I almost felt sorry for him in the moment.
The glint of the ring caught my eye, but I stood shocked silent. He must’ve asked the question multiple times, but I had no words. The need to flee was overtaking me, yet I couldn't move.
I blinked through the fog. My father's face was full of uncontainable joy, a smile that lightened all his features, his first genuine smile of the night and guilt tore through me.
What he had said right before the doctors had wheeled him into surgery rang loudly in my ears: Don't cry, baby girl. I'm not leaving anytime soon. I'm going to walk you down the aisle, watch you get married, deliver you to Roland and watch those grandkids pop out.
His eyes were expectant and brimming with tears, causing a thickness to form in the back of my throat. I dropped my head to hide the shame.
The few seconds of silence and slight movement was broken up by a slew of actions that followed: my mother screaming congratulations, followed by Roland standing, then slipping the ring on my finger.
I couldn’t breathe while I was passed around my family like a rag doll. Back and forth. Forth and back.
I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs for the commotion to stop.
I didn’t say yes. I didn’t agree to this.
It was the smile on my father's face and the pride in his eyes that had the word “no” choked in my throat.
And in that moment, I promised myself this was all for the show, for my loving father, and that this was temporary. I'd die before I walked down an aisle and committed myself to Roland. Everyone hooting and hollering and on their feet caused my stomach to roll, almost to the point of knocking me over.
I was engaged. An engaged woman, but completely empty and hollow inside.
My whole family continued to pass me around like a rag doll, hugging me, telling me their congratulatory speeches. My mother hugged me the tightest, telling me that I was making the right decision.
For once in my life, I despised her. The woman who had given birth to me was dead to me from this day forward. She had started this fiasco, and she ended it with her screams of congratulations, which made everyone else’s’ follow.
When it was Tene's turn, she whispered over and over that she would help me get out of this mess. My fiancé—I never thought I’d loathe the word—wasn't by me. He was pouring himself another glass of wine, fire behind his eyes, but his stare was not directed my way. It was focused behind me.
I followed his line of sight, toward the bar, where I locked eyes with Cade, whose glazed look of despair began to take over his features.
Ice spread through my stomach, and I felt an overwhelming sense of loss.
When I glanced back at Roland, I noticed his eyes were laser focused on Cade, and every part of me wondered if he knew. But if he knew, he wouldn't have proposed, would he? Roland had too much pride.
Cade was oblivious to anyone else but me.
I'd never forget his look. I'd remember it until the day I died. His dark eyes held a hurt so strong, it made my knees buckle, and I was leaning my whole body on Tene's for support. Tears threatened to spill over.
When he turned away from me, my heart shattered like a glass vase thrown on the floor, the pieces scattering everywhere.
And I knew there was no way to put it back together.
Chapter 29
My whole body and face were numb like I had Novocain running through my veins.
Roland had walked to the bar, paid the bill in cash, thrown like garbage in front of Cade. I thought there would be a full-on fight until Cade turned around, leaving the money where it was, then charging through the kitchen doors.
The image of Cade turning from Roland, muscles tense and storming back through the kitchen, would give me nightmares for an eternity.
An overwhelming sense of loss overtook me, my misery so great that my chest ached with physical pain.
I shook and unwillingly followed Roland out of the bar as a nauseating sinking of despair made my stomach roll.
The four-karat, internally-flawless diamond felt like a two-ton weight that could sink me at any moment. I almost wished it would. I'd rather die than marry someone who didn't respect me.
After our families had gone their separate ways, I flipped toward Roland, my face stern, my insides defeated. "We need to talk."
Without my family or his family, without the spectacle of a crowd, or the eyes of my ailing father on me, my backbone had grown back. This was not happening. Not now. Not ever.
And maybe he knew it, too, because his happy, cheery demeanor was replaced with a cold one. "Meet me back at the apartment." He dropped my hand like it was hot coal and clicked the unlock button of his beamer without a look back.
I debated on following him to our once-upon-a-time place, the residence I used to call home but decided I needed to speak my mind and clear the air. After parking in my usual spot, I followed Roland inside. We were silent on our way up the elevator to the penthouse floor.
When we entered the condo, he threw his keys on the counter, undid his tie, and slipped out of his suit jacket.
He was pissed. Pissed for what, though? He’d gotten what he wanted.
"Roland ...” I lay one strong hand on my hip and pointed to the door. “Back there, at the restaurant ... I don’t know what that was. But I didn’t say yes.”
He turned to face me, his eyes blazing. The change in demeanor caught me off guard, jamming my next words in my throat.
"This is the next progression for us, Angelica. We're getting married." The finality in his tone had me wondering what he was smoking and the despair I felt moments ago turned into something—disgust.
Chin out, bitch face on. "No. We're not."
He ran one aggravated hand through his hair and turned away, huffing as he stomped to the bar and poured himself a glass of scotch.
I clenched my fists, ready to fight this, fight with him. If this was what he wanted, I’d give it to him. I knew what would make him listen. What would get through his thick skull, through his pride, through his stubbornness?
"I slept with another man." I braced myself, waiting for his wrath, the backlash from my indiscretion.
He turned around, and his reaction was stoic because he already knew.
The shock of discovery hit me full force. "You knew, didn't you?" My heart thumped hard. "My mother told you." I staggered back a step, as though hearing the words from my mouth made them truer.
And like pieces of a puzzle falling together, everything that had happened today became so vividly clear. "The fact that we were at that restaurant was not a mistake, was it?" I gritted my teeth, my nails digging into my palms. "Nor was the fact that you proposed today." It hurt. Everything hurt. If I wasn't so riddled with anger, I'd curl up into a ball and start crying. My mother had tag-teamed with Roland to trap me, but this was going to backfire in their face.
"You didn't hear me,” I said louder. “I slept with another man."
He had pride and dignity. There was no way he'd take me back.
"Your mom told me you were seeing him. Yes.” His voice was cool and emotionless. “But I didn't assume anything." He tipped back his glass, taking a long swig of the scotch and poured himself some more of the copper-colored liquid.
"And now that you know? What? You don't care?" My tone came out loud, hysterics bubbling up my windpipe.
His jaw tightened, and he opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out at first.
I wanted to hurt him because I was hurt. But then he said, "I do care. And what matters now is that I forgive you."
I blinked, unsure I’d heard him correctly. How could a man take back a woman who’d slept with another man that quickly? Someone he supposedly loved and wanted to marry? None of this made any sense. "Forgive me? For what, exactly? We aren’t together." My voice could’ve cut through glass.
When he didn't answer
, I stomped my feet and threw both hands in the air. "For what? I want to hear what you forgive me for."
That lifted the fog of calm from his demeanor. He glared at me with burning reproachful eyes. "For fucking someone else when I've been faithful to you year after year.” His temper flared, and anger reddened his face. “When I've been there for you through everything. That's what!" He shouted back, frustrated, but not hurt. There was no hurt behind his eyes.
I shook my head, the fight draining out of me. Clearly, I wasn’t going to convince him of anything. "We were done when I was with Cade. I just want you to know that. And, yes, you may have never slept with anyone else, but there was always work in our relationship. You cheated on me for years with your crazy job."
"That's different, and you know it." He gripped my hand fiercely, the one that held the ten-ton anchor on my finger. "You're leaving him," he said with finality. "I'm not losing you to him."
I almost laughed. "Losing me?" What didn't he get? “You lost me many months ago.”
I gritted my teeth, finally seeing the truth—his truth. "This isn't about me anymore. This isn't about you wanting me because you think you can't live without me. This is about you winning." I tore my hand from his, my body shaking with my newfound realization.
My trembling fingers flew to my throat. It hurt to see Roland, the man I’d grown up loving for so long turn into someone I hardly recognized anymore. A man that didn’t want to keep me because he loved me, but only because he wanted to win. He clearly stopped loving me long before we got to this point.
"It is, isn't it?” I asked, in a low tormented tone. “You just don't want to lose me to him or anyone. You don't want to lose." My voice was small, barely audible as the realization set in. And the truth would set you free, they said. Above pride, above dignity, Roland didn't like to lose.
His laughter had an edge, cynical even. "You're crazy."
I placed both hands against my chest. "Crazy? Me? I just told you I slept with another man and here you are telling me you want me back in the blink of an eye and that you forgive me." He didn’t even react, and I went on, my throat aching with desperation. "My mother found out about Cade and me a mere two days ago, and she tells you, and what do you do? You don't get mad. You try to trap me, but you know what, Roland? Like the billion times I've tried to tell you before—I'm done."
