Avow

by Holly Mortimer

  Wouldn’t it be just my luck that Brennan was getting married and hosting his reception on the day I chose to wander in? I checked myself on the back of a gleaming hanging pot as best I could and immediately regretted looking. My distorted face looked like a circus clown and my hair was decidedly manic. Smoothing down my hair, I flashed back to the day I found out I would be losing it. Fucking cancer. Robs you of everything. It felt so petty, but the most devastating side effect was the hair loss.

  I squared my shoulders and pushed the memory to the back of the line. It was time to leave, but I would be back.

  I crept up to the front door and peeked in at the comings and goings through the circular window. I couldn’t see anything other than the ceiling thanks to my challenged height. Damn, I would have to go back in blind. I wasn’t ready to face Ryan in a rematch. I needed to regroup and come up with plan B.

  Not watching where I was going, I nearly ran into a pair of little girls racing each other around the back lot.

  “Sorry,” they both yelled as they roared past me.

  They were adorable. They had to be around six or seven years old and the best of friends as they were currently tackling each other to the ground, ruining their perfect wedding outfits. I smiled and gave my head a shake.

  Move it or lose it, Chloe. I needed to get lost before I was found again. I needed give Ryan a bit of space, but not enough for him to go getting his own ideas about us. It was imperative he give in this time. I just couldn’t handle any more nights knowing that if I wanted to, I could claim him again as my husband. It was time to set him free, once and for all. I had everything I needed to convince him, it was just going to come down to whether or not I could gather the courage to tear him apart. It needed to be quick and I needed to strike hard for it to work.

  It was a solid plan. A plan destined to destroy the only man I had ever loved and it was well on its way to destroying me too.

  Chapter 3

  Ryan

  The hardest thing I had done in a long while was turn around and walk through that swinging door without turning back and taking her upstairs to my apartment. I wanted to run back outside, track her down and drive her as crazy as I was going. I wanted to feel her naked body up against mine. I wanted to take possession of my wife, something I had only ever been able to do once when I was young and fumbled it badly.

  I was watching her from the side door, unbeknownst to her. She had nearly gotten run down by Claire and Fiona but had recovered nicely, staring wistfully at whatever those hellions were getting into.

  “What are you doing skulking back here?”

  I turned to find Aiden peering over my shoulder trying to get a look.

  “Nothing, brother.”

  “She back there?”

  I sighed and turned to head back to the bar. The only thing I knew that could cure this pain was whiskey. It appeared I hadn’t had quite enough before she’d shown up.

  “Claire and Fiona are wrestling outside. I’m afraid Brennan might lose his mind at the state of Claire’s dress.” We walked back through the crowd, skipping the line at the bar and heading directly behind it to grab our own personal bottle of demon chasing poison.

  We turned back into the party and I felt an aching sense of loss. I didn’t know what was going on inside that overactive brain of hers, but I hoped like hell it was thinking to come back to me and explain her urgent, yet long running need to be done with me. I was a sad, pathetic man, but at least I could admit it. That was the first step to curing me of my patheticness.

  I knew that once Chloe set herself a goal, she wouldn’t waste time achieving it. She would be back to talk to me as soon as she thought it was proper. As far as I could see, she currently had two problems. The first being she didn’t know my phone number and the second was she had no idea where I lived. I had used the pub as my forwarding address for our communication up to this point. So, if I wanted to get any answers, I was going to have to figure out a way to keep a constant eye out for her. It looked like I was going on car park creeper duty tomorrow. I had occasionally used the front bay window to keep track of the odd woman I would rather have nothing to do with, and the window gave me the perfect view of everything coming and going around here.

  I watched her get in her car and carefully turn out of the lot and went back to join Aiden at the bar before he could get too far ahead of me. I needed to forget about her for a few more hours and in order to accomplish that, I would need to enlist the aid of Dr. Jameson.

  The sun woke me the next day, streaming in my bedroom with a rather annoying, cheery fire, landing right on my face. I must have forgotten to close the curtains again last night. Aiden and I had finished our fair share of beer and whiskey fairly late, and my head appeared to be having problems dealing with being alive.

  I heard a text come in and became immediately aware that I had totally blown phase one of my genius plan to catch Chloe in the car park. It was nearly noon and I had missed an entire morning of staking out the pub for her return.

  A knock sounded at the door and I held my head until the ringing settled down. The knock sounded urgent and the last thing I needed was to answer an urgent call at the door while feeling like shit.

  The annoying knocking ass continued and the urgency seemed to be escalating the longer it went on. It quickly became clear to me that whoever was on the other side wasn’t leaving until I made an appearance.

  I flung the covers to the floor and rolled off the side of the bed, barely catching myself from knocking my head unconscious on the corner of the side table.

  The banging continued and I crawled along the floor, trying helplessly to haul my sorry, hungover ass up off the ground.

  “Fuck, this is so not good.” I managed to get to crouched over, cave man standing style and stood perfectly still while waiting for the room to slow down.

  I grabbed a wall and slowly made my way towards the front door, totally thankful I lived in a one bedroom flat and not a two story house. I never would have made it if so.

  As I approached the door, the knocking became more sporadic and I got totally pissed off. No damn way was this person going to stop knocking and leave after I made it all the way to the door. I grabbed a hold of the handle and yanked it backward, while simultaneously flinging my free arm over my eyes to protect them from the blazing sun.

  “Chloe. Fuck.”

  “Nice to see you too, Ryan.” She arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow in judgement of my current state, no doubt.

  “What are you doing here? How did you find me?” I needed to wrap this up. I must have smelled like the bar, my hair was sticking up everywhere and I wasn’t sure, but I had a good idea I had a severe case of morning wood. Shit, at least I was actually wearing underwear.

  She held up a piece of paper with some crazy shit written all over it and it most of it came flashing back to me. Aiden and I had left her a note when we went home last night. I squinted and leaned in so I could try to read the chicken scratch all over the paper.

  Ryan lives upstairs. For a good time call 353 86 065 1965. He’s fucking amazing in bed! That last part was written by Aiden the giant dickhead. I was so going to get him back for it.

  God, I was an idiot. Now everyone knew my fucking phone number and that I lived upstairs. The regulars were going to be banging on my door looking for alcohol at all hours, not to mention the aforementioned good time. I had to get her to leave and go regroup, alone, for a long time, preferably lying down.

  “Um, can we talk later? I’m not sure I can stand up much longer.” And with that, I started swaying and sending out prayers to the porcelain God perched in my bathroom. Oh yeah, this wasn’t going to go well. What a great way to get your estranged wife to open up to you. Puke all over her. She bolted in, grabbed me around the waist and slammed the door behind her.

  “Come on then, let’s get you back to bed and I can make you some tea and get you some pain killers.”

  I le
aned against her, feeling how tiny and frail she was. “Chloe, hurry. Make a pit stop at the bathroom.” She scooted me there as quick as she could and deposited me a little harshly onto the floor, where I promptly released all the alcohol poisoning my system, over and over again.

  I felt her come back with a cool washcloth, a glass of water and some ibuprofen. She took off her expensive and hot as hell knee-high boots and slid down to join me in my misery.

  I leaned my back up against the wall and closed my eyes, wishing for a complete and utter do-over. There was no way I could start to win her back today. I needed to be benched and put back in the game tomorrow.

  I cracked open an eye to find her calmly staring at me. “Sorry,” I croaked out.

  “Rough night?”

  Why wouldn’t the room stop spinning? I searched my mind to try to remember what exactly it was that I drank that left me so hungover. I was a bartender, for God’s sake. I could normally handle my alcohol, but I was drawing blanks this morning. I would have to get some eye witness accounts to piece it all together.

  “Yeah, I guess so. Listen…” I turned towards her, but thought better of it. I needed to rinse my mouth before I tried to get anywhere near her. “Look, Chlo, I really want to talk to you today, but now, is just not going to—”

  She gently grabbed my arm and lifted it over and around her shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get you into bed. You’re three sheets to the wind and in danger of passing out on the bathroom floor, where I just wouldn’t be able to lift you up and get you back into your bed. I need your help here.”

  I swallowed my pride and threw in my dignity for shits and giggles and let her haul me up to standing or leaning or a mix of both depending on your perspective. Together, we made it to the sink where I quickly rinsed my mouth out, willed the nausea to recede yet again, and lurched into my bedroom. Chloe gently tucked me in and tenderly smoothed my hair back from my face.

  I smiled and leaned into her touch. It brought back so many memories of us, tangled up together, just enjoying each other’s touch. A feathered sweep here, a lazy tickle there. We got married when we were eighteen and had only slept together the night of our marriage when she up and left. We were discovered by her father while celebrating over breakfast the next day. He separated us immediately and I hadn’t seen her since.

  No one here knew about our marriage. We hadn’t told anyone; we didn’t want anyone trying to talk us out of it. She wanted to get out from under her father’s rule and I wanted to prove to her I could be the man in her life who supported her. Looking back, it was definitely foolish and insane, but I didn’t regret one moment of our time together, including the marriage. She was it for me, always had been and always would be. Sure, there’d been other women since she left. I never proclaimed to be immune to a beautiful woman’s attentions, but I was just spinning my wheels. Waiting for her to come back to me. I believe men like me are called, pathetic? Whipped?

  “Sleep, Ryan. Text me when you wake up and feel like talking. I’ll leave my number on the counter.”

  She gave my hair a final sweep to the side and got up to go. I didn’t even have the strength to grab her wrist to stop her. It was time to admit failure today and retreat to fight another day.

  I drifted off to sleep, not entirely sure if or when she left—I was pretty out of it. Rumour has it, I even had some choice words for her, like “I still love you” and “you’re mine, never leaving.”

  Well, she definitely did leave. I knew when I woke up the next day, alone and totally pissed at myself, that now I had even more work to do to get her talking. Waking up lonely and alone sucked and there was no way I was going to continue to do so, when my wife was finally living in the same country as me again. No fucking way.

  I threw back the covers, showered and got dressed, with the sole focus of winning her back and figuring out why the hell she had left in the first place. The first step? Try to convince her yesterday never happened.

  Chapter 4

  Chloe

  I woke up with a feeling of dread in my stomach. Today I wouldn’t be able to avoid talking to Ryan. Yesterday was the reprieve I didn’t know I was looking for. I was still severely jet lagged and my brain was kind of in a fog, not unlike the weather outside my window today. I needed a clear head when we finally had it out. There was no room for error. I had to convince him I didn’t love him anymore. He needed that more than he could ever know.

  The first step in my new plan was to shower, get dressed and join my hosts for breakfast. The B & B I was staying in overlooked Brandon Bay and I was looking forward to enjoying the view while eating.

  I rushed through my simple morning routine and made it in time to see the fog roll in and obscure the land and sea from my view. Damn. I was planning on flying back home tomorrow, so I only had one more day to catch a view that had been described to me as “glorious and peaceful.” I had this weird compulsion to stay until I could finally see what everyone had been talking about. Chalk it up to trying to live life to its fullest. When I had lived here ages ago, I didn’t venture much outside my tiny village life. Being a cancer survivor did have its benefits, I thought sarcastically. God knew I had to try to find the good in all this bad. I now spent a good amount of time searching for the beauty in life.

  I finished up breakfast and grabbed my phone on my way out. Glancing down, I saw I had a text alert from Ryan. For some reason, I was terrified to open it.

  “Come on, chicken. Open the damn text and let’s get this over with.”

  I was talking to myself these days and I was so far gone, I was actually listening. Swiping open the text, I let out some of the breath I had been holding in.

  Hey Chlo. Sorry about yesterday. I can’t even begin to imagine how awesome spending time with me was. So, I guess we should talk. You know where I live and work. I’m at one or the other all day.

  I could do this. It was just texting.

  Ryan, don’t worry about yesterday. I am on my way to you, wherever that may be.

  I threw the phone into the cup holder, did an eight point turn to get out of the narrow parking area, and took off trying to remember the way to Murphy’s Pub.

  Twice as long as it should have taken me, I pulled in and parked in a half empty lot. Damn, I really didn’t want an audience for this. I hoped he wasn’t working and we could have a private conversation in his apartment instead of out in the open amongst the pub’s customers.

  I settled my nerves with a cleansing breath, hopped out of the car and purposefully strode inside to demand my husband give me a divorce.

  As I walked in, an odd hush fell over the hum of chatter and most all of the heads turned to see who had entered. Apparently, most of these people must have walked here as the amount of cars in the lot certainly wasn’t this many. I tried my best to ignore the curious stares and concentrated on finding Ryan.

  “Looking for someone?” I felt his breath behind my ear and couldn’t help the shiver that ran up and down my spine. Turning, I tried to put some distance between us.

  “Hey, um, can we go somewhere and talk?”

  “Sure, love. Will the kitchen do or do you need more privacy than that?”

  “I was thinking more like your apartment?”

  He looked over my shoulder and whistled at someone. “Aiden? Can you mind the bar for a bit?”

  “You just got here,” Aiden said. “Lazy bastard. Go on. I’m here for the day anyway. I’m on Claire duty later tonight.”

  Ryan flashed a lazy grin at me. “I’m all yours. Let’s go upstairs.”

  I followed him out and up the set of stairs that led to his apartment. He let us in and I remembered how much I had loved his home when I saw it yesterday. “This place is amazing, Ryan.”

  “Yeah, Brennan fixed it up a few years ago. His wife, Sam, lived in it for a while and when she left to go back to her own home, I snatched it up. Been here ever since.”

  “Well, it’s amazing.”


  I turned around to find him staring at me. I was stalling, and it was time to just say what I had to say and leave before things got messy.

  “Why don’t you tell me what you came here for, Chlo?”

  Damn. He had beaten me to it. “Okay, well, damn.” I looked up at his hazel eyes and tried to find the courage. “So, well, you see.”

  “Spit it out Chloe.”

  “I need you to divorce me.”

  “I figured that was what you wanted. Why don’t you tell me why I need to do this?”

  No time like the present. “Because, uh, well, I already told you I’m in love with another man.”

  Of course, what he didn’t know was that it wasn’t really all that true. I liked him, the other guy, that was true, but more like a brother. My father had chosen him for me and sometimes, when your head and heart just aren’t in the game, it’s easier just to go along with your father. The cold hard fact was, I had cancer. Yes, I was possibly in remission, but that hadn’t been confirmed by my doctors yet. Ryan was young, hot and completely married to me. A dud. With no hope of ever giving him the life and family he deserved. I had breast cancer. I also had one ovary completely shut down and the other wasn’t high-functioning, to say the least. Nearly no chance of pregnancy was how the doctors had worded it. Little to no chance of starting a family with this man. He needed to let me go and get on with it. But somehow, I had to convince him of that, without telling him the real reason beneath.

  You see, Ryan was a saver of the damsel in distress. That was how he had first been drawn to me. I didn’t want him to save me this time. He couldn’t. I needed him to save himself. Therefore, enter new boyfriend. The new love of my life. My heart was going to break, but this needed to be real to him.

  “Pardon me?” His face was scrunched up and he looked like he thought I was joking.

  “I said—”