by K. Webster
Fucking hotel liquor. Ugh. And what the hell is that noise? I try to shift my position and find I’m weighed down by something large and hot. I wiggle again and the something groans, “Baby, quit squirming.” I freeze.
Chase is practically wrapped around me, snuggled up and plastered to my side. A leg thrown over both of mine, his face buried in my neck, and an arm stretched over my chest, his hand resting firmly on my breast. I don’t know how to catch my breath, and seriously? What is that damn noise?
“Chase.”
“Shhhh. Dr. Monroe is sleeping.”
I huff, “Chase, what is making that noise?”
“You, baby. Now shut it. I’m exceptionally comfy.” He emphasizes his statement with a squeeze to the boob in his palm. I try desperately to ignore the tingles spreading throughout my chest.
I manage to get my focus and clear away some of the cobwebs in my head. I realize I’m hearing “Blue Eyes” by Carey Brothers. “Chase, is that your phone?” He pries open an eye lid and glares at me. I don’t know how someone can glare with one eye, but somehow Chase manages it. Admittedly he looks really cute while doing it, too.
“Shit!” Chase’s exclamation startles me and suddenly the heat is gone and I’m mourning its loss. Chase runs to the round table in the corner of the room and snatches up his phone. “Shit! Up, babe. Get your sexy little ass in the shower.” His finger swipes the screen, then plucks up my phone and does the same. “Fuck. There went your parents’ first impression of me. You have four missed calls and two texts.” He glances back and sees I haven’t moved, since I’m too busy ogling his mostly naked body, the muscles, his smattering of chest hair, and the beautiful tattoo over his heart, which I haven’t had the nerve to ask about. He smirks and I roll my eyes and flip him off as I climb out of bed.
I yawn and wander toward my suitcase. Chase is frantically digging through his own, then pops up with clothes and spies me still in a funk. He hurries over and smacks my ass. “Get a move on, Tori. It’s almost noon.”
His words pierce my hungover fog. “What?” I screech and start running around grabbing anything and everything, before dashing to the bathroom. “What the fuck, Chase? We missed breakfast and the wedding starts in two hours!”
“We slept through the alarm,” he says from right behind me as if it’s no big deal. Startled, I spin around to see him standing just beyond the door jam, and both arms up, leaning on either side of the frame. “You’ve got to get a move on.” He continues to stand there and stare. The punk. “You know, it would be much more efficient to share the shower. Very practical.”
“You make a good point.” I grab the hem of my cami and slowly start to drag it up my stomach, watching his eyes become round as saucers and his mouth open slightly. I saunter toward him and watch his eyes get impossibly darker, as my tongue darts out and wets my bottom lip. I reach the entrance and put my hand on the back of the door, looking at him through hooded eyes.
“You want to get wet and naked with me, Chase?”
His gaze has been glued to the movement of my shirt, but now his head snaps up. He drops his arms and starts to step forward, and just as I expose the underside of my breasts, I slam the door in his face. I hastily lock it in the nick of time as the knob begins to jiggle. I quickly turn on the shower and start to strip.
“Tori,” his hoarse voice floats through the wooden barrier, “you are going to pay for that, babe.”
I stifle a giggle and hop in the shower. The warm water sluices over me and at first, it relaxes me, until the events of the day start to run circles in my head. I try not to think about what’s ahead. Shutting out images of my large family all gathered together to watch my cousin walk down the aisle. Visions of another wedding spark, and the jumbled pictures get my heart pumping. I can’t—can’t catch my breath. Spots start floating in front of me, my heart racing, chest panting as I try desperately to get some oxygen. A sob rips from deep inside. I reach out blindly and shut the water off, stumbling out and dropping onto the edge of the tub, putting my head between my legs.
I start running through the case I have on Monday, examining every argument, every bit of case law, every piece of evidence, and my heart begins to slow. A knock on the door brings me entirely out of my panic attack.
“Tori, open up!” Chase is pounding on the door and twisting the knob. “Open the fucking door, Tori!”
It’s then I realize he’s been calling to me and knocking for several minutes.
“I’m okay, Chase. I'm all right.”
My response doesn’t calm him and he continues causing a racket. I grab a towel and wrap it around me, and sigh knowing he’ll keep it up and have the people in the next room calling the police if I don’t give in. I unlock the door and it flies open, almost knocking me over. Chase grabs my arms and looks me up and down a few times, most likely looking for injury. When he finds none, he roughly pulls me into his chest, my head laying right over his racing heart.
“Baby, you can’t do that to me. You scared the fuck out of me.” He removes his arms from around me and grips my face. “Are you all right? What happened?”
I grimace because I know he isn’t going to let me bullshit this away. Despite my exceptionally talented bullshit skills in the courtroom, Chase seems to see right through all of my layers. It’s annoying. It’s scary. It’s incredible.
I drop my eyes to the ground, embarrassment flaming my cheeks. How do I explain it without admitting to a fit of anxiety? At first, I try to dance around it a little, “I was just having a moment… you know with everything coming up today. Sorry, I didn’t hear you. I was in my own little world, I guess.”
Chase lifts my chin and stares at me, his warm brown eyes narrowed behind the lenses of his cute glasses, and yep, he’s not going to let me off of the hook. Shit. “Tori, I could hear you crying, and it didn’t sound like the shedding of a few tears. Tell me what happened. This is what I’m here for, let me be here for you. Ease some of your pain.” He winks at me and my knees go a little weak. That awesome dimple appears with a sly smile. “Do I need to take you to the bed and give you something else to think about? I totally will, babe. I would do that, for you.”
I laugh and smack him on the chest, with an eye roll. For me, ha! “You’re hilarious, Chase,” I mumble sarcastically.
His expression gets soft, and he runs his thumb over my bottom lip. “There’s that smile.” He kisses me sweetly, still holding my face with two hands. Then his eyes get serious again, his eye brows dropping low. “Tori, were you having a panic attack?” His eyes bore into mine, and I’m unable to look away because of his grasp on my cheeks. “You can be honest with me. I’ve been there. I get it.”
My eyes start to burn and I scrunch my nose to alleviate the tingle, trying desperately to hold off a fresh wave of tears. I wish he really did get it. I want someone to truly know what I’m feeling.
“I’ve been in that place where you have no control, and you can’t breathe through the tightness in your chest. The only place you find comfort is in a dark, tight space, where the world cannot get to you. I understand what it’s like to not recognize yourself in that moment. To wonder if it’s you that this is actually happening to, if you’ve completely lost your mind, or if you’re standing on the sidelines, aching for that person, watching them slowly splinter apart.” He rubs at the ink over his heart and his words bring me a smidgen of comfort. He may not know the same pain, but he has felt the terrorizing fear of panic, being swallowed by anxiety.
He tucks my head under his chin with a soft kiss and rubs gentle circles on my back until I’m much calmer. He kisses my head again and lets me go. “You okay to finish getting ready, babe?” I nod, and move to the vanity where I retrieve the blow dryer from underneath the sink. I stand back up and meet Chase’s amused expression, his eyes twinkling. “Trying to get a free peep show Ms. Larkin?” His hands come to the elastic band of his boxers. “Lucky you, I have a Sunday Special. No charge.” He winks and as the boxers begin to d
rop, I practically squeak and dash out into the bedroom, Chase’s laughter ringing behind me.
It’s not like I have an aversion to naked men. I’m not squeamish. No, the problem is that if I’d stayed in the bathroom and caught even a glimpse of that sculpted, so-fucking-hot body, I’m pretty sure my hormones would mutiny and make my brain walk the plank.
Slipping on a hotel robe, blow dryer in hand, I set up my things on the waist height, oak dresser, making use of the large mirror hung overhead. I don’t have time to do anything fancy, so I dry the front and twist my hair up into its usual style. The door of the bathroom opens and steam billows out, carrying the delicious scent of Chase’s spicy cologne. Butterflies are going crazy in my stomach, and then he steps out wearing a suit. I burst into flames, so hot I’ll be nothing but a pile of ash in about thirty seconds.
I don’t stand around to admire the view. I’m in grave danger of reneging on my stance of no sex. I grab my underwear and dress, grateful I haven’t put on my panties yet, and like the coward that I am, I hide in the bathroom to finish getting ready. Once I’ve donned my black lace underwear, a black cocktail dress with a flared skirt, three-quarter sleeves, and a wide neckline that reveals just a fraction of my shoulders, and black, suede stilettos, I feel as though I’ve replaced my armor. I throw my shoulders back and tell my spine to be an unyielding backbone. Nothing is going to rattle me. I’ll just float through the next few hours, then spend the reception getting drunk.
When Chase sees me approaching, he looks me up and down, whistling with a wolfish grin on his face. “You look incredibly gorgeous, Tori. So fuckable, it’s going to take everything I have to keep from hauling you to the nearest dark place and having my way with you.” Then he pauses at my head and frowns. “Why is your hair like that?” he growls.
“This is how I always wear it.”
“I don’t like that hairstyle, it’s not you.”
I raise an eyebrow at his words. “I’ve worn my hair this way, every day for the better part of the last ten years. How is it not me?”
“It’s not the real you. It’s Victoria the Ice Queen lawyer, not my Tori,” he pouts.
I sigh, “Look Chase, you’re the one who talked me into doing this, so you’re going to have to let me deal with it in my own way. After we get out of this nightmare, we’ll see about getting back the girl you’re looking for. And stop pouting, you look ridiculous.” Actually he looks the opposite of ridiculous, and who knew that a pout would bring out that sexy little dimple.
He studies me for a few beats, then walks over and kisses me. Let me rephrase, he devours me, hauling me into the curve of his body so we are glued together, and running his hands down my back to palm my ass. Before I even have much of a chance to respond, he steps back, and judges my appearance for a second time.
Seemingly happy with what he sees, he grins at me smugly. “There she is. Just needed to make sure I hadn’t lost her.” I don’t quite understand what he means, but he gestures to his watch, so I race over to the table and pick up my little black clutch and silver wrap. On my way to the door, I do a quick check in the mirror, and I see what Chase was referring to. My cheeks are pink, the subtle flush spreading down to the exposed skin above the neckline of my dress. My eyes are bright, the blue sparkling like the ocean in the sun. I look well loved. I look…happy.
“Babe, we need to go,” Chase urges. “I texted your parents while you were showering and they are waiting for us in the coffee shop downstairs.” I stumble out of the trance and force myself to walk away.
We take the elevator down, and with every floor it drops, I feel my body getting stiff, shoring up the walls around my heart. Chase encircles my wrist with his long fingers and pries open my clenched fist, then laces our fingers together. I almost pull away, retreating into myself, but at the last second, I decide to accept his strength, to let him help me carry some of this burden. He gently squeezes my hand and I look up to see a warm and soothing look on his face.
The doors swoosh open and I recognize the blue carpet, cream walls, and gold filigree accents of the lobby. This hotel really is exquisite. I can see why my cousin chose to be married here. I had always dreamed of having my wedding at The Drake in Chicago, but I would have been happy renewing my vows here. The thought is unexpected and begins to hang a cloud over me.
My parents are sitting at a table out on the patio of the hotel coffee shop. I muster up as much of a smile as I can and march over to them. Well, not march, so much as follow behind while Chase basically drags me along. Same difference.
I wonder if they are angry we missed breakfast, but when they see us, they jump up to greet us. My mother smiles at me conspiratorially, cocking her head in Chase’s direction and winks knowingly. I shift uncomfortably and wrinkle my nose at the direction she’s headed in. No one, no matter how close you are—no one wants to discuss sex with their mother. I stand by the theory that I was created through Immaculate Conception.
Chase has shaken my father’s hand and been pounded on the back, next my mother gives him a hug. He apologizes for having missed breakfast but they wave it off, and sit back down. Chase pulls out my chair and gets an approving smile from my parents. I would roll my eyes and call him a suck up, except he is always opening doors for me, and being gentlemanly overall. It makes me feel cherished.
We order a light breakfast of coffee and pastries, after which my father asks about my job and how my cases are going. Oh, hallelujah. This is a safe topic. I can prattle on about my work all day long and it will never lead into dangerous territory. I talk about it until it’s time to make our way to the banquet hall. My mother looks as though she wants to say something more as we stand to leave, so I give her a strained smile and turn to follow my father and Chase who are already moving.
I scowl when my father leads up toward the family seats, only a couple of rows from the front. With my mother taking up the rear, we don’t have much choice but to file in and take our seats. The ballroom is just as resplendent as the rest of the hotel, with the added splash of color from the red and pink flowers scattered about. The aisle leads up to a beautiful cream arch and on each side of the curve sits a golden baby angel. My eyes are glued to those little cherubs. I want to look away but it’s as if they have a hold on me and are determined to tear me apart.
I’m finally able to break the connection when I feel a warm hand on my thigh, and look up to see Chase staring down, concern evident in his eyes. I give him a wobbly smile, trying to reconstruct the walls that are crumbling. Pain is seeping in through the cracks and I feel it stabbing at my chest and heart.
“The Wedding March” begins and we stand, all eyes turning to the bride. Danielle walks softly down the aisle, her satin gown reminiscent of a princess’s ball gown. The large skirt is full from the tulle underneath, pearls sprinkled throughout. Puffed sleeves on her pearl speckled top, and topping the ensemble off with a sparkling tiara. She reminds me of every little girl’s dream, to be a Disney princess. Would Sarah have chosen to be a princess? I almost recoil back when the thought hits me as Danielle walks by. Chase’s long fingers wrap gently around my arms and pull me back, supporting me against his chest.
We take our seats again and I start to feel restless, fidgeting with my hands in my lap, twisting my fingers around. I feel as though my skin is tightening, stretching as if it’s a shirt I put on that is too small. With every minute that passes, the air becomes thicker and I can’t get a full deep breath. The lack of oxygen has tears springing to my eyes and I blink furiously, trying to hold them back. I vaguely feel the warmth of a hand at my nape and the pressure in my muscles, the fingers kneading. I don’t want to be touched, the touch stings, so I shrug it off and surreptitiously take a few gulps of air, trying to fill my lungs.
It doesn’t work. They continue to grow shallow, and I watch the clock counting every tick, keeping my focus there, shutting out all of my surroundings. My hand stings and I realize that there is a large hand covering my gnarled mess of finger
s, but it hurts, so I snatch them away, bring them to my chest and press tight, hoping it will alleviate some of the pressure.
The rushing of sound in my ears is permeated with the loud banging of clapping hands and I’m lifted from my seat by the elbow, so I’m standing with the rest of the crowd. I feel the tiniest release of the weight dragging me down. The throng of people are chattering and beginning to file out the room. I stumble along with them, desperate to get some air, but the mass is moving too slow. It takes every bit of my control not to scream at them to get the fuck out of my way!
Finally we reach the exit to the banquet hall and I head straight for the front door, only to realize what I need is to be alone in my own little space, rather than out in the open with people trying to talk to me or just existing in my presence. I ignore the sound of my name being called and rush to the ladies room just inside the hotel entrance. I shove the door open and see the perfect spot, a bride’s room. I rush in and slam the door behind me, locking it, and keeping the lights off. I step to the wall next to the door and lean heavily against it, until my body weight becomes too heavy for me and I slide down into a heap on the floor.
My tongue tastes salty and I realize that tears are pouring from my eyes. I shut them and a slide show plays before me, pictures of the future that should have been mine. Renewing my vows with Ben, dressed in white, a beautiful room filled with our friends and family. Our sweet little Sarah as the most beautiful little flower girl, her cherub face beaming up at us, flowers in her strawberry curls. Every one of Sarah’s birthdays slide by, the visions too short. I cling to them with everything I have, desperately wishing for yesterday.
I see my baby going to kindergarten, her first kiss, going to prom, graduating from high school, going to college, finding her own Prince Charming. My throat aches and my chest is ripping open as I sob, every picture making it more shredded and raw. The pain is so great that I begin to wish and hope that this is it. That it’s my turn to join my love and my baby girl.
