Auctioned to Him 7: The Contract

by Charlotte Byrd

  “C’mon, let’s go,” O takes my hand. “Danielle, I can’t wait to see you try on the dresses that I picked out for you.”

  My mom stares at her dumbfounded. “I thought I would just wear something I already have. I have this little yellow summer dress that Luke got me in Paris.”

  The smile nearly vanishes from O’s face, but she is quick to recover.

  “Yes, of course. Whatever you’d like. But since the dresses are already upstairs, maybe you’d like to take a look?” O says with a mischievous look in her eye.

  I’m sure that that look has served O very well over the years and has had quite an effect on many men.

  My mom’s eyes light up. She has always loved shopping. Even when we had absolutely no money, she would go to Target or Ross and browse the aisles. Inevitably, she would come home with some crazy marked down pair of jeans or a beautiful top, which she only paid $5 for.

  “When did you have time to get dresses?” I ask on our way up the stairs.

  “Oh, you don’t think I was just laying around here all day doing nothing, did you? I’ve been hard at work planning this little shindig ever since I heard of it.”

  I shake my head and smile. I’m glad that there are women like O in the world. Women who get immense pleasure from planning and organizing events. I’m glad, mainly, for selfish reasons. Because I don’t have that event planning gene, and if the world was made up of people like me, then civilization would be doomed.

  I wait on the couch in O’s room for my mom to try on her first dress. O is in the walk-in closet with her, because according to O, “trying on wedding dresses is a three or four woman job, but we’ll manage.”

  I offered to help out, but both of them insisted that I stay put.

  Finally, my mom comes out. My jaw drops. That’s not an exaggeration. It actually drops open, as if I’m in one of those old school cartoons.

  The woman before me is tall and elegant and looks like she’s ten years younger than my mom actually is.

  “So? What do you think?” My mom asks smoothing the large taffeta skirt of the wedding dress with her hands.

  “Beautiful,” I manage to say. Tears come to my eyes, but I try to hold them off. I can’t believe that this is my mother standing before me. I’ve never seen her this beautiful and radiant. This effervescent.

  “Yes, you do look lovely, Danielle,” O cuts in. “But there’s another one that I think might be a little bit more you.”

  “Another one?” I ask.

  “Yes, how many dresses do you think I got exactly? Just one? What kind of fitting would this be?” O tosses her hair and rolls her eyes. I smile.

  When my mom disappears into the dressing room, O turns to me.

  “You really like that dress?”

  I nod.

  “I think the skirt is a little full. It makes her look a little bit like a recently groomed poodle.”

  I nod. I don’t know what to say. That was the most extravagant thing I’ve ever seen in real life, and I’m in awe by its grandeur.

  Before I get the chance to gather my thoughts, my mom comes out again. This time, she’s wearing a long gown that hugs her hips and makes her look as if she were six feet tall.

  “This is an A-line dress,” O explains. “It accentuates your figure a lot more giving you a very, very nice shape. What do you think, Danielle?”

  This time, it is my mom who has tears in her eyes. She wipes them off with the back of her hand.

  “I’m sorry. So sorry, I didn’t want to just disintegrate into a puddle, but it’s beautiful.”

  “Well, this is it then,” O says decidedly.

  “This is it? Aren’t there more dresses to try to on?” I ask.

  “You don’t know the first thing about shopping for a wedding dress. Do you, Brielle?” O asks.

  “No, why?”

  “Well, if you did, then you’d know that the first dress that makes the bride to be cry is the dress. No ifs, ands, or buts. This isn’t a science, darling. This is an art. And the first dress that produces that reaction is the one!”

  We both turn to my mom. She’s staring at herself in the mirror. She’s never looked lovelier, and she knows it. Tears are streaming down her face. Tears of happiness and joy. The kind I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen. The kind that I really wish my little sister was here for.

  “And for us, the bridesmaids, I got us these lavender dresses.” They are cut to the knee with built in cups and thin straps going over the shoulder. The material is the lightest thing I’ve ever felt. This must be what it feels like to be a butterfly, I think to myself when I look at myself in the dress in the mirror.

  “The color really compliments Brielle’s skin tone, don’t you think, Danielle?” O asks.

  “You’re breathtaking,” my mom says choking up again.

  We start to do our own makeup, but O remains in charge.

  “First, you’ve got to put on the primer,” she instructs. “It’s like painting a house. Would you ever paint a wall without putting on primer first?”

  Mom and I just stare at her. I don’t actually know, since I’ve never painted a wall or a house. I have put on foundation before, but apparently without primer, and that’s all wrong.

  “All of these years of applying makeup and I’ve been doing it all wrong,” Mom jokes.

  O sprays on our foundation then blends it with a wide brush. Fake eyelashes are next. The glue frightens me, so I just close my eyes and pray that O doesn’t glue them shut. She applies the eyeliner and the eyeshadow next, and follows that up by filling in my eyebrows.

  At first, I try to protest and do my own makeup. But once the fake eyelashes come out, I just give up and give in. So does Mom.

  When O’s finally done, I look at myself in the mirror and don’t recognize the beautiful woman staring back at me.

  * * *

  By four o’clock in the afternoon, we are all ready. Just in time for the ceremony. O leads the way, taking us to the garden. My mom looks like a movie star. She moves as if she were floating on air.

  The wedding will take place in the garden’s gazebo. When we walk into the garden, Mr. Whitewater is standing at the head with a small book before him. Luke is right next to him on the right, and Wyatt is next to him. Luke looks like all fiancés do in movies: nervous, lonely, and incredibly handsome.

  I follow O down the aisle. In the end, I turn to Wyatt. He’s radiant. The tux accentuates every hard line of his body. It looks as if it were made to just be worn by him in this world.

  “Doesn’t Wyatt look handsome?” O whispers.

  “Very,” I say. I try to meet his eyes, but he purposely avoids mine.

  When the music starts, I turn away from him and look at my mother. She walks down the aisle slowly and majestically, as if she was born to do this. At this moment, she is no longer my mother. She’s Danielle. A woman on the verge of starting her new life with the love of her life, and I can’t be any happier with her than I already am.

  When she gets closer, I see that the most beautiful thing that she’s wearing is the smile on her face. The last time, I saw her this happy was when my little sister was still alive. And that was many, many years ago.

  The wedding passes in no time. Mr. Whitewater reads from the Bible and asks the bride and groom if they promise to care for each other in sickness and in health, for better and for worse. They say their “I do’s” and lock lips.

  * * *

  “Okay, let’s all head out to the foyer for cocktails,” O says as we walk down the aisle following the happy couple. Throughout the ceremony, I tried to meet eyes with Wyatt, but he had successfully evaded me until we were supposed to lock arms and walk back down the aisle. Finally, I thought. This will be my opportunity to at least touch him. No matter how chaste.

  But he didn’t give me his arm. When I reached for it, he recoiled and walked slightly ahead of me. It took a lot of courage for me to reach out to him. I hope he knows that. I also know what he woul
d say if I’d said that out loud. “Why don’t you get just the courage to tell me the truth?”

  I will. Later this evening. I will tell you everything, I promise myself.

  * * *

  ***

  When I get to the foyer, I head straight to the bar.

  “What would you like?” the bartender asks. He doesn’t look familiar. He was was probably just hired just for the occasion.

  “Martini. Dry, please.”

  I should’ve started drinking a long time ago. At least, way ahead of the ceremony.

  “Here you go, madam,” he hands me the drink.

  “Excuse me, sir. You can’t be here. This is a private party,” I hear someone say behind me.

  “Don’t worry, this won’t take long. Only a few minutes.”

  I drop my glass to the floor. That voice is all too familiar and frightening.

  Time stops. I turn around. Everyone’s still mingling, talking, and for a brief moment Ryan and I are the only ones in the room.

  “Hi sweetie,” he takes a few steps forward and is suddenly right next to me. He’s breathing on the back of my neck. Suffocating me. I want to move my feet and run, but I’m bound to the floor. Frozen from fear.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see that he’s carrying a handgun.

  “Wow, you’re even more beautiful than I remember,” Ryan says brushing his hand against mine.

  I shudder and recoil from his touch.

  His wide black eyes are devilish and sinister. Arrogant. I can’t believe that I was ever drawn to them.

  “Can I help you?” Wyatt comes closer. I don’t know if he knows about the gun. I want to scream for him to go away and stay away. This man is armed and dangerous. But I remain still and barely breathing.

  “Yes, you can, actually. I’m here to pick up Brielle,” Ryan says tossing his head back. His shoulders are square with Wyatt’s. He’s challenging him.

  “Pick her up for what?” Wyatt asks.

  “Not for anything. Just pick her up. She’s coming with me.”

  “I’m sorry, who are you?” Wyatt asks. “Do you know this man, Brielle?”

  “Tell him, Bree,” Ryan says.

  But tell him what? The truth that I should’ve told him a long time ago. I can’t do it now as much as I couldn’t do it before.

  “Okay, then. If she won’t do it, let me do it. My name’s Ryan McPhee. And Brielle and I are together. She’s the love of my life. She got lost for a little bit, but now she’s back.”

  Wyatt stares at him. And then turns to me.

  Finally, I summon courage from some place deep within me that I didn’t even know existed. I’m shaking. But my words are steadfast.

  “We are not together, Ryan. I have a restraining order against you. Or did you forget that?”

  Wyatt gets it immediately.

  “You have to leave, Ryan. This is a private party.”

  “Oh yes, I know. But I’m not leaving without Brielle,” he say and pulls out his handgun. The whole room grows quiet. It gets so quiet I can hear my mom’s pulse from across the room.

  Ryan grabs my hand, shaking me out of a daze. “Let’s go, Brielle.”

  “Ryan,” Wyatt steps forward. Ryan is too fast for him. “Another step forward and I’ll shoot you. You better stay back now, you hear?”

  Everyone stops in their tracks. Out of the corner of my eye, I see O’s terrified face.

  “Let’s go, Brielle,” Ryan wraps his cold, strong hands around my waist and pushes me forward.

  A thousand thoughts rush through my mind. I can run, but then he’ll shoot me. Someone can get hurt. I’m not sure everyone in the room realizes just how crazy he is. Just how out of control.

  Outside, the clouds that have been gathering ever since the ceremony finished, suddenly break out into thunder. A few aggressive flashes of lighting follow, and all of the lights go out. My mom screams. Ryan pulls me closer. I can’t see a thing anymore. The whole room is a blur. It’s pitch black, and I have no idea where Ryan is pulling me.

  A few moments later, my eyes adjust to the darkness. Then, from the distance I see him. I want to yell out to him to stop, to get away, but I don’t want to alarm Ryan, who has yet to see him.

  With one swift motion, Wyatt knocks the gun out of Ryan’s hand and punches him. Ryan falls to the floor, but he doesn’t let go of my hand, and I tumble onto the floor along with him. Wyatt looks around for the gun, but Ryan is quick. He grabs him at the ankles. Wyatt falls to the floor. Thump. Ryan’s back on his feet. He’s holding the gun over Wyatt’s head.

  “No!” I scream out. My voice can’t stop a bullet. Wyatt moans. He’s been shot!

  Rage boils within me. The fireplace is right next to me. I see the metal poker Mr. Whitewater used to adjust the wood on the flame. I grab it, put it behind my back, and turn to face Ryan.

  “Oh you think, you’re so brave, defending Brielle like that? What, you think you’re some sort of hero?”

  Ryan’s talking to Wyatt, who’s withering in pain on the floor. He doesn’t see me. This is my only chance. I don’t think, don’t give a thought. I simply act.

  I run straight for him, poker extended. It goes through his chest. Blood spurts out of his mouth. I step back to keep it from touching me.

  “Brielle,” Ryan shakes his head. “Brielle.”

  Those two words will haunt me forever. Ryan’s legs give out, and he drops to the floor.

  “You’re going to be okay, Wyatt. You’re going to be okay,” I grab Wyatt and cradle his head with my body. He’s still breathing, but each breath is laborious. He has been shot in the stomach. I hear O calling the police and feel everyone circling the two of us. I feel them there, but at that moment, we’re alone. No one else exists, but us.

  Wyatt opens his mouth and tries to say something.

  “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay. You don’t have to say anything,” I say. Hot tears run down my face, and I pray that I’m right. But Wyatt keeps trying. Eventually, he manages to form the words.

  “I…love….you.”

  Epilogue

  Wyatt, O, and I often talk about that fateful day, the day my mother got married. O had her baby while Wyatt was still recovering at the hospital from the gunshot to his abdomen. Wyatt spent four days in the hospital recovering from the gunshot to his abdomen. I spent another two weeks telling him everything about Ryan and I. Everything that I should’ve told him earlier. He was my boyfriend for a year, but he got a little clingy. So I decided to break up with him. At first, I thought he took it alright, but he said that he wanted to be friends. And continued to contact me. When I told him that we could no longer be friends, he got angry. Hit me. Pushed me down. I tried to call the cops, but he smashed my phone. When he finally left, I went to the police station and got a restraining order. He was told to stay away, but he didn’t. I saw him cruising past my house. He came to the café and sat in the parking lot until someone told him to leave. I called the cops. They enforced the restraining order, told him to stay away, but he kept breaking it. And each time that I saw him, I got more and more afraid.

  Then I came to Wyatt’s house. This was the one place where I felt incredibly safe. Ryan couldn’t reach me here. He didn’t know where I was, nor did anyone else. I stopped hearing from him. Months passed, and I thought that he had moved on with his life. Then I got that first email.

  My whole life was turned upside down. I started to panic. Fear ate me up inside. I was terrified. I couldn’t think of anything but him. The only thing that kept me going was that I really believed that he didn’t know where to find me. And then he did.

  I didn’t know how he found out about this place, but then I got a call from my mom. Apparently, her trailer had a break in and some documents were missing. One of them was the letter from Wild, Inc. and another from Wyatt about repaying the debt, along with the letter was his return address.

  “He must’ve just come here on a hunch,” Wyatt says when we talk about it again. Wyatt’
s home now, but still a little weak from the medication.

  “Yeah, that must be it,” I agree.

  “I still can’t believe you did that,” he says.

  “Did what?”

  “Kill him like that. That took a lot of courage, Brielle.”

  “I’m just sorry that I didn’t do it earlier, before he shot you,” I put my hand in his. “I knew how dangerous he was, and I just let it go. Let the scenario play out.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Wyatt smiles and kisses the top of my head. “You didn’t know he was going to shoot me. He’s crazy. You couldn’t have predicted any of this.”

  I try to believe him.

  “Hey, I’ve been meaningto ask you something. I’m thinking of taking that job in LA working for my father’s company. After I get a little better. What do you think?”

  “I think that would be so exciting. Yes, definitely. A nice change of place. You need that.”

  I’m happy for him, but another small part of me is a little sad. What would that mean for us, then?

  “Well, I can only do it on one condition, though,” Wyatt flashes his mischievous smile.

  “What’s that?”

  “You have to come with me. Will you?”

  I look at him. I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

  “What would I do there?” I ask.

  “Anything you want. It will be a new start for us. What do you think? Please say yes.”

  I think about it for less than a second. “Yes! Yes!” I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him. “Of course, yes!”

  Then something occurs to me.

  “But only under one condition,” I say pulling away from him. “We go horseback riding first. After you get a little better, that is.”

  “You want to go horseback riding?” he asks. “I thought you were afraid?”

  “I am,” I smile. “Well, no. That’s not entirely true. I’m a little apprehensive, but I’m not afraid anymore.”

  Wyatt pulls me closer to him and kisses me.