Diary of a Wedding Planner in Love (Tales Behind the Veils Book 2)

by Howe, Violet

  "Saturday was my wedding anniversary." He said it with no emotion, really. Just a calm, matter-of-fact statement.

  I didn't understand at first. I didn't know why he was mentioning it or what it had to do with our situation. Then it dawned on me that his wedding anniversary was the reason I hadn't heard from him. The reason he had disappeared off the face of the earth. The reason he now sat in my hallway cold, calm, collected, and removed from emotion.

  I went from distraught to pissed in six seconds flat.

  "Are you freaking kidding me? That's why you haven't called me? Why you haven't let me know you weren't dead on the side of the road? That's why you're treating me this way?"

  He gave a slight shake of his head and closed his eyes again.

  "I don't expect you to understand."

  "Well, good. Because I don't. If you were upset or something, why couldn't you tell me? If you needed some space to process, or you were having trouble with the day, do you think you couldn't talk to me? I've been worried sick about you, Cabe."

  "I'm sorry. I should have called. I just got all caught up in my own head, and I didn't want to talk to anybody."

  "That's fine. It's fine to say I don't want to talk. But you say that. You give the other person the courtesy of saying you don't want to talk. You don't just disappear."

  I started relaxing a bit. Okay. So I forgot they got married the end of January. Shame on me. I guess I should have remembered that, and I should have been more proactive about reaching out to see if he was okay with it. But I really thought he'd gotten over Monica. I mean, he hasn't mentioned her pretty much at all since the divorce became final, and since everything seemed so hunky-dory between us, I assumed he was good. After all, I'm supposedly the one he was in love with for so long, right? She was basically a distraction from me, right? So if he has me, why would he still want her? I tried to cop an attitude and convince myself it was all okay, but it didn't work.

  There had to be more to the story. Okay, so maybe he had been upset about the anniversary Saturday. But he hadn't called at all since then, not to mention the way he had acted at his office earlier and even here tonight. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

  "Wait, are you still not over Monica? Did she contact you? Did you call her?"

  He shook his head. "No. I haven't heard from her since she left our apartment in Seattle to move in with Kristen.

  "So help me out here. What's wrong?"

  "I don't know how to explain it to you, Ty. You've never been married."

  Ouch. That one hurt. He was right, of course. I've never been married. But was there some pain or conflict he was feeling that only married people could relate to?

  I stood up and stomped over him to get to the kitchen.

  He stayed silently seated in the hallway with his eyes closed while I poured myself more water and stood at the entrance to the hallway staring at him.

  I was pissed. Hurt. Confused. Scared.

  I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to hold him and beg him to never let me go. I wanted to tell him to go screw himself. I wanted to calm the fear inside me, but only he could do that.

  I finally went and knelt beside him. He looked so broken.

  Again. Like he did when he first came back from Seattle. My heart tugged, and I wondered if maybe he did have some deep chasm of pain I had no way of understanding. I reached out and touched his hair. Softly, lightly. A gentle caress I hoped would say, "I care."

  He turned his face toward me, but his eyes were still closed.

  "Will you look at me?" I asked. I needed to see what his eyes held. Would the old Cabe be there? The one from before Monica? The one from last week? Or would it be that scary shell of a person I saw at the lake when he returned in October? Or even more frightening, the cold emptiness from earlier today at his office?

  He opened them, but the dark hallway cast no illumination on what they held. I leaned in close, close enough to kiss him. Close enough to feel his breath as he exhaled. He made no move to either pull away or to meet me.

  The thought of my breath smelling rank after sobbing and dry-heaving popped into my head, and I pulled away abruptly. He didn't stop me.

  His lips parted, but no sound came out. They stayed that way for several seconds before he spoke, each word obviously chosen with much care and thought.

  "I don't mean to hurt you, Ty. It's the last thing I want to do. But I don't know if I can do this."

  "Do what?" I asked, but I already knew. My heart plummeted. My anger had slipped away, leaving me vulnerable and exposed in its absence.

  "Things are just moving so fast between us. I can't get serious right now. I have to think about things, you know? A year ago, I stood in front of a woman and pledged to love her the rest of my life. I don't fully understand all the reasons I did that, or all the reasons it failed, but I do know it's something I need to figure out before I rush in again."

  "But it wasn't your fault, Cabe. She fell in love with another woman. You couldn't compete with that. That wasn't something you could have prevented. You just—"

  He held up his hand to stop me. "Ty. Listen to me. I made a vow to someone. A promise. But it fell apart, and before I jump into something else, I think I owe it to myself, and to you, to figure out what happened. I've only been divorced for a couple of months. I think I need to take some time."

  I refused to hear him.

  "This is Galen, isn't it? Galen got to you. She talked to you and told you we shouldn't be dating."

  He turned to face me, wide-eyed in confusion. "What? No. What are you talking about? Why would you think that?"

  "Galen cornered me in the bathroom the night of the comedy show. She told me to leave you alone and let you heal. She basically said I had…done you wrong…and that—"

  "She did what?" He was on his feet then, pacing down the hallway and then back and forth across my living room. "My sister has no business telling anyone how to manage their life. She's a revolving door of messed-up relationships."

  I bit my lip, not sure now how much truth Galen had given me. Her words had upset me, but they'd also given me a measure of confidence in the last few weeks that Cabe loved me and had loved me for years in spite of myself. That knowledge had given me a huge bolster in being able to relax and trust my feelings for him. But what if it wasn't true? What if Galen was wrong?

  He turned to face me, his face red and his jaw clenched tight. "Why didn't you tell me? Is that why you left that night? Talk about being honest about your feelings. A bit hypocritical, don't you think? Were you ever going to mention my sister jumping you in the bathroom?"

  "I wanted to. But . . . but I just didn't know what to say or when . . . would be a good time," I stammered and stuttered. I'm not sure how things suddenly all got flipped around where I felt like I'd done something wrong, but I sure felt that way.

  Cabe turned and went to the sliding glass door, slapping the wall beside the door with an open palm.

  "God! That pisses me off. This is exactly what I mean, too. You're having all these thoughts I know nothing about. I'm having all these thoughts you know nothing about. I can't do this. I don't know what it takes to make something work, but at least I'm aware that I have no idea. I don't want to fail again. I'm not going to fail again. So before I get deep into this or anything else, I need to figure out how to stop that from happening."

  "I'm sorry, Cabe. I should have told you. It's just that everything was so good, and I was so happy. You were happy. You told me you were. I didn't think it was that big of a deal."

  Okay, that last part was a lie. I had obsessed over every word Galen said. I definitely thought it was a big deal, but I hadn't wanted to risk sharing it. Which I guess was wrong. I don't know. At that point of the night, I wasn't sure what was up and what was down. I had no idea what to think. I just knew I felt him slipping away, and I desperately wanted to hold onto him.

  "Cabe, I don't know how to keep something from failing either. But we can figure it out together.
We can be honest with each other. Talk. Get it all out in the open. We can make this work."

  The whole time I talked he shook his head, his hand over his eyes. The more he shook, the faster I talked. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.

  "I just need some time, Ty. I don't want you to get hurt. You've had enough of that. I just need to take a breath and be on my own for a little bit, you know? I was so beat up after Monica left, and then trying to move back here and get settled in. I just feel like it's too fast. I want to make sure it's what’s right for both of us. The last thing I want to do is lose you. Lose your friendship. You're so important to me, Ty. I don't want to risk that when I can't be sure how it will turn out."

  I felt like I'd been thrown into the Twilight Zone. The man I loved was standing in front of me, saying he needed time and space. Basically the same words my first love had uttered to me a month before he married another woman. He was also saying he didn't want to risk our friendship by pursuing it further, which had been my mantra keeping us apart for the last five years.

  What the hell? I finally decided to take the leap and jump all in and now he had cold feet? It just didn't make sense to me. If Galen was right…but what if Galen wasn't right? What if my original concept of our friendship had been true all along? What if he'd always thought we were just friends?

  To be honest, Cabe had never professed his love for me. Sure, we'd gotten closer in the last few weeks. Definitely become more than friends. But he didn't introduce me as his girlfriend that day to his cousin. He hadn't said he loved me. Plus, no matter how intimately we'd fooled around, he'd never actually had sex with me.

  My whole world spun backwards, sucking the oxygen out of the room as it turned.

  "Wait, Cabe. Don't do this. Don't walk away. We can—"

  He cut me off. "Tyler. I need to sort my thoughts. For you and for me. Please don't make this harder than it has to be. I truly do not want to hurt you."

  Tears streamed silently down my face. How could he stand there and say he didn't want to hurt me when he was ripping my heart from my body?

  "Cabe, I love you."

  His head popped up, and his eyes met mine. For a brief second, I thought I saw a light there. A glimmer. A hope. But then he shook his head and walked toward the door.

  "Don't do that, Tyler. Don't say that to manipulate me or force something to happen."

  "I'm not. I do love you."

  He turned back to face me, his hand on the doorknob.

  "Tyler, don't. Just don't. If we share those words, I want it to be because we're sure of what we're saying. What we're promising. I need to be sure. I need you to be sure. Can you please just give me some time? I'm not Dwayne. I'm not getting married to anyone else next month. I'm not saying I don't care about you or I never want to see you again. I just need some time. Okay?"

  What could I say? What option did I have? No? No, you can't have time? You have to love me right now? You have to know right this minute that we're supposed to be together, and you need to be fine with it.

  I had no choice but to let him go. To let the last pieces of my heart shred away from me as he carried it with him down the stairs.

  I crumpled into a heap on the floor and stayed there until I woke up about an hour ago. Late for work and not really giving one hot damn.

  Well, that's not true. I give a damn. I'm taking a shower now and getting ready to go in. I called Laura and told her I wasn't feeling well and would be late. So, I give a damn, but in the grand scheme of life, none of it matters as much as it did before last night.

  February

  Sunday, February 2nd

  I spent the entire weekend curled up in a ball in Melanie's guest bed. The first weekend I've had off over in a month and I was completely bedridden with grief. I don't give a damn how old you are and how much life experience you've acquired, break-ups suck.

  I haven't heard from Cabe since he left my apartment on Tuesday night, and it’s like an eclipse completely blocked out the sun.

  I spent Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday dodging client phone calls, staring at my computer screen, and crying behind my closed office door.

  At first, Chaz gave me a hard time, but it took exactly one complete hysterical breakdown in his presence to shut him the hell up. He even brought me a cheap bouquet of flowers on Friday. One of those they sell in the grocery store check-out line, but it was the thought (and the apology) that counted.

  Mel seemed almost as devastated as I was. She had practically planned the wedding and named the babies Cabe and I would have. She even teared up right along with me when I told her what had happened. Well, as much as I could. I don't even fully understand it, so how could I tell her?

  She insisted I come home with her for the weekend. I didn't even bother to go pack clothes. I stopped and bought a toothbrush on the way to her house and moved into the guest room, emerging only to use the bathroom and refill my water glass.

  Mel and Paul pretty much tiptoed around the house all weekend. They whispered in hushed tones just outside my door, and occasionally they would knock and offer me food, but I couldn't eat. I just pulled the shades, flung a blanket over the curtain rod to block out more light, and slept every minute I could.

  I woke up every couple of hours. The first few seconds I would be disoriented, unsure of where I was. But then I would remember, and the whole situation would come rushing back and I'd start wailing again.

  Finally, I reached a point this afternoon where I wanted a shower more than I wanted sleep. So I climbed out of my dungeon and ventured down the hall to the living room.

  "Mel." Paul said, looking at me like I was an escaped quarantine patient. "Mel!" Louder this time.

  "What?" Melanie came through the swinging half door from the kitchen scowling at him. Her expression changed as soon as she saw me, and she rushed over to wrap me in a hug. "Oh honey. Do you want something to eat? Something to drink? What can I get you? Paul, get her something to drink. Fix her something to eat. What do you want, honey? Paul, go make her something."

  Paul stood and took a couple of steps toward the kitchen, but his gaze never left me and it never lost that wary ‘what the hell is she going to do next?’ look.

  "I'm fine," I croaked, my voice hoarse from crying so much and not talking for so long. "I don't want anything." I cleared my throat and coughed. "Maybe a glass of water."

  "Paul, get her water! Go! Why are you standing there? Go! Come here, honey. Sit on the couch."

  She led me by the arm as she would an invalid, and I suppose in some ways I was. Paul brought me the water and then took two steps back. I wondered if he thought heartbreak was contagious. I took several gulps of water and looked up at him, nodding thanks. He nodded back and disappeared down the hallway.

  "He doesn't know what to do with tears. Never been his strong suit." Mel rolled her eyes and smiled.

  "Thanks for letting me stay here."

  "Oh honey. It's no problem at all. You stay here just as long as you like. You're always welcome, you know that."

  I did know that, and the thought comforted me. Pain stabbed behind my eyes, and I drank a couple more swallows of water.

  "I think I'm gonna go home. I want to take a shower. Wash my hair."

  "You can do that here," Mel said. "There's shampoo, toothpaste, deodorant. Whatever you need. It's in a little basket underneath the sink in the bathroom. I can get you a robe."

  I smiled and shook my head, the movement causing waves of pain to reverberate across my skull.

  "Thanks, Mel. I really appreciate everything. But I need to go home."

  She hugged me again, and I felt like I wanted to cry but had no tears. Dried up. Empty inside. And the emptiness left a hole that burned and ached.

  I drove home in silence, the colors whizzing past me in a blur of madness. I had no conscious thought of anything I passed or saw, just a magnetic pull to get home. Alone with my own thoughts. My own pain.

  I had turned my phone off after work on
Friday, and I couldn't bring myself to turn it back on yet. I would have to do it tomorrow, to address the irate messages from brides, but they could wait.

  Part of me was scared I would turn it back on and find a missed message from Cabe. Part of me was scared there'd be none.

  My apartment echoed in empty silence as I entered. A stark contrast from Melanie's house, with its bustle of color, sounds, and smells. Her bright hues splashed across the upholstery and walls. Three dogs yipping and yapping and climbing all over the furniture. Paul's obsession with car shows playing non-stop on TV. Melanie banging pots and pans in the kitchen and yelling at Paul to turn the TV down.

  I welcomed the silence of home, and yet I felt engulfed by it. The air too heavy to breathe. Too dense.

  The cleansing waters of the shower washed away a portion of the funk, both on my skin and in my head, but after fifteen minutes standing under the stream, my eyes had started to pour out tears again. I collapsed into the tub with loud, racking sobs that would have terrified Paul. I cried until my sides hurt and the water grew cold.

  I stripped the cologne-tainted sheets from my bed and washed them. I hid the stuffed frog and Roscoe the dog underneath the bed so they wouldn't stare at me, and then I lay on the fresh sheets and stared at the ceiling, praying the morning would soon come.

  Tuesday, February 4th

  It completely caught me off guard when he called after a week of silence. I wasn't expecting it, and my heart skipped beats, raced, and stopped, all at the same time. I jumped out of my chair to close my office door, but then I got nervous he would hang up before I answered and cracked my knee on my desk trying to rush back to the phone.

  "Hello?"

  "Hey there, Buttercup."

  I sucked in a quick gasp of air and fought the tears that sprang to my eyes. Partly from my throbbing knee, but mostly from the pain of hearing his voice, much more quiet and subdued than normal. "Hey."

  "How ya doin'?"