by Denise Wells
“Not your smartest move, Tabs,” Pax says, stepping in closer, his arms moving to bracket me on either side. His hips pin me against the wall.
“I know,” I say softly.
“You don’t love him?”
I shake my head.
“And you aren’t sad about it?”
I shake my head again, a small smile playing on my face.
“What do you think about my argument where you and I are concerned?”
“It has merit,” I say breathlessly, our faces barely an inch apart, my heart beats rapidly. I can’t believe he’s here. That he’s done this. It’s crazy, but incredible. I’m scared and exhilarated. And when I see reflected in his eyes what I know is shining from mine, I realize it’s always been Pax. He’s always owned my heart, no matter where we’ve been or what we’ve done.
His eyes drop to my lips. My tongue darts out to wet them and his pupils dilate.
“I do think we need to know for sure whether that sexual compatibility part still holds true,” I say.
“Even though I crossed it out?” he asks.
“It was still a good point.”
“It was, wasn’t it?”
I nod.
He leans in, his lips ghosting across mine. My breath catches, my head dizzies, knees weaken. I reach up and grasp his lapels to steady myself.
“I still love you,” he says, his lips barely moving against mine. “I never stopped.”
“Pax,” I breathe his name.
“Fuck, Tabs,” he groans as he claims my mouth with his. My lips conform to his as though from muscle memory. He moves a hand to the back of my neck, his thumb wrapping around toward the front, holding my head in place as he takes what he needs and gives what I crave. My hands skate across his wide chest and up around his neck, one tangling in his short hair, the other trying to pull myself even closer.
I want to crawl inside him. I can’t get enough. I feel like my world has been righted and turned upside down at the same time. His tongue duels with mine, making my head light and my pulse race. My breath mingling with his as he continues to assault my mouth in the very best way. It’s been years since I’ve been kissed like this. The sad truth is that Pax was probably last man to kiss me properly.
His hard length presses against my stomach as he works his knee between my legs, my skirt voluminous but the material thin, so I feel every inch of him. His hand runs lightly down my collarbone, continuing down my side, his fingers grazing against my bare skin, making me shiver.
“Ahem.” Someone clears their throat loudly from behind Pax. He slowly separates his lips from mine and takes a step back, looking at me to make sure I’m okay. I nod in response and he moves to the side, his arm snaking around my waist, so we can face this together.
30
Pax
I’m not sure who I thought would be interrupting us, but it wasn’t Gregor.
“Sorry to interrupt, man. But people are kinda freaking the fuck out in there. Rumors are flying and I thought maybe I’d come check and see if we should say something? I mean, I’m happy to make any announcement on your behalf. And Liza is pacing at the back of the room, close to tears. So . . .”
“Ohmigod!” Tabby’s face turns bright red. “I forgot about the people. Jesus.” She turns to me. “What do I say? What do I do? Do I just tell them they can go home? What about the reception? Oh shit. This is such a mess!”
I take her hand in mine and squeeze it. “Hey, don’t worry. We got this. I’ll go with you to make the announcement. This isn’t on you. He’s the one who walked out. You didn’t cause this, he did. Okay?”
She nods. “Okay.” Then she squeezes my hand back, gently.
Gregor opens the ballroom doors for us. Hand in hand, Tabatha and I walk into the massive room, which is much larger than I remember. Or maybe it just feels that way because we are flanked on either side by thirty rows of ten people each, all with eyes glued to us. The string quartet stops playing “Canon in D” and begins to play the wedding march. Gregor, who was returning to his seat via a side aisle, instead goes straight to the musicians and motions for them to stop playing.
The room fills with silence as we make our way down the aisle toward the flower-filled stage where the ceremony was to take place. The aisle seems to go on forever, blanketed by a white runner that crackles under our feet as we go. Huge bouquets of red flowers sit in stands at the ends of each row, in stark contrast with the white covered chairs. Large black bows secure the chair covers at each seat back. And everywhere I look, ten times as many eyes blink back at me.
The closer we get, the tighter Tabatha squeezes my hand. Whispers begin to bounce back and forth, filling the space as the guests try to determine what is happening. At this point, the wedding was supposed to have started forty-five minutes ago. I notice a number of seats at the front on the groom’s side are already empty, so he must have told a few close friends.
We climb the steps to the microphone and turn to face the crowd. Tabatha straightens her back and raises her head. I’m so fucking proud of her right now for facing this head-on after Wimpy the DoucheCock left her stranded. It can’t be easy.
“What do I say?” she whispers from the side of her mouth.
“We got this,” I say. “Okay, just repeat after me.”
She nods and then begins to repeat the words that I feed her.
“Thank you all for coming today. I’m sure you’re probably wondering why I’m standing up here with this guy and not the other one.”
She turns to look at me after she says that, a what the fuck look on her face.
“Just go with it,” I mumble.
She rolls her eyes and turns back to the guests. “The other guy decided not . . .” she repeats, then faces me again. “I’m not saying that,” she hisses to me. “I can use his name and so can you.”
Then to the restless onlookers, she says, “Hunter and I have decided not to marry.” Gasps ring out through the room.
She holds her hands up in an attempt to silence them and continues to parrot what I say. “I apologize for the inconvenience and the confusion. In an effort to make it up to you, I’ve decided to marry this guy over here. If anyone wants to stick around for that, services will commence in just a second . . . wait, what?”
She spins to face me. “Pax, what the hell? You can’t just highjack my wedding.”
“Why not?” I ask.
“Because.” Her neck strains with the angle of her head as her eyes bug.
“I think it’s the perfect solution,” I say. “Everything is already here. I mean, the monograms are all wrong, of course, and I doubt I will like any of the gifts that Simplecock picked out, but I know for certain the cake is good. Wait, he did pick the good cake, right? The one with the—”
“Pax. Stop! Just stop.”
“What, babe?” I put my hands on either side of her waist, wanting them to be somewhere on her.
Liza approaches from the side, seeming to have finally gotten herself back together. “Tabatha, would you like me to send people in to the reception?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say, answering for her, at the same time Tabatha says, “No!”
“Why not?” I ask at the same time Liza says, “Okay.”
A decent chunk of the crowd is still waiting in their seats. They’re either wondering what is really going to happen next and if a wedding will indeed take place, or, my guess, if Tabby is going to open the bar.
“Either way, you should open the bar,” I tell Tabby.
She waves a hand at Liza. “Fine, open the bar.” Liza leaves to do her bidding.
News that the bar is opening races through the crowd and within minutes, the room is empty with the exception of me and Tabby on the stage, Gregor and Maisey still in their second-row seats, and Crystal and Angela standing in the back.
I take her face in my hands. “Tabatha, I want to be with you. Day and night, from here on out. I want to marry you, grow old with you, kiss you until I can’t
breathe, fight with you, make love to you, all of it. I’m serious about that.”
She reaches her hands up and covers mine with hers. “I know you do. And I want that too. I think. But I can’t just flip and do that today. An hour ago, I was supposed to be standing up here with another man.”
“I never would have let that happen,” I tell her.
She laughs.
It wasn’t supposed to be funny.
“You said you think you want that too. What do you mean?” I ask.
“I need time to think. I can’t just rush from one situation into another.”
“I’m not a situation,” I argue.
“I know, I didn’t mean it in a bad way—”
“What other way would there be?” I ask.
“Please, can we not fight?”
“Tabs, I told you I love you. I want to marry you. We kissed.” I turn and point to the hallway. “Right out there, just a few minutes ago. And it was amazing. I know from that kiss that you want the same things. You can’t tell me otherwise.”
“I know. And that kiss was great. I need to know that I’m not doing this with you just because it’s not happening with Hunter. Does that make sense?”
“No!” I’m upset. I’m trying not to be, but I am. Earlier, all I’d thought about was making sure she didn’t marry Pimplecock today. But then, as soon as I realized that she and I could just marry here and now, it became all about that for me. A two-fold mission that I’m now desperate to accomplish.
“What are you saying?” I ask. “Do you not want to get married at all?”
“It’s not that. It’s just . . . look, can I just have some space, please? I need time to think. And I need to do that without you.” Her eyes plead with me, tears falling down her cheeks.
“Okay.” I nod, my chest thick, my breath shallow. I sound agreeable. But inside I’m dying. I want to beg her not to waste any more time by not being together. I want to shake her and make her realize how wrong she is for wanting space.
She rushes back down the aisle where Crystal and Angela are waiting. They each wrap an arm around her and lead her from the room.
Gregor appears at my side, claps a hand on my shoulder and asks, “You okay, man?”
I clear my throat. “Yup,” I say.
He looks at me in disbelief.
“Hey, she didn’t say no outright. She just said she needed time. And space. Without me.” I sound optimistic. So much so, I think Gregor almost believes me.
So why do I feel so desolate?
31
Tabatha
The girls and I head back to the suite Crystal and I shared last night.
“Wait for me!” I turn and see Maisey coming toward us, a bottle of champagne in each hand. “I thought we could use these,” she says, smiling.
We take the elevator down a few floors, again no issues, and settle into the room. I flop face down on the bed, no longer caring if my dress gets wrinkled or not.
“Did I hear right,” Crystal starts. “Pax wanted you to marry him right now, using yours and Hunter’s wedding?”
“Yes,” I groan, my face buried in a pillow.
“That’s so romantic,” Angela says, pouring us all a glass of champagne and passing them around. She forces me to sit up so I can take my glass. Maisey nods in agreement.
“Really?” I ask. “You don’t think it’s kind of demented?” I drink down half my glass and hold it out for a refill.
“Not at all,” Angela says.
“It’s kind of like that movie,” Maisey says. “The one with Reese Witherspoon and McDreamy? Sweet Home Alabama. Oh, except she was still married to the other guy. He was cute.”
“Oh! Maybe you and Pax are still secretly married,” Crystal says.
“Mmm, that would be Josh Lucas, the other guy in Sweet Home Alabama. He’s hot. I’d do him,” Angela says.
“You’d do a lot of guys,” I tell Angela. “That’s not a discriminatory list.”
“Touché, bitch,” she responds, raising her glass toward me.
I turn to Crystal. “We are definitely not still married,” I say, gulping from my now full glass.
“Don’t make me sound like a slut, you tramp. And it’s not like this is coming out of the blue,” Angela says to me. “You guys were married before.”
“Takes a tramp to know a tramp,” I mumble back to her. “I know we were married before, but I’m not sure that helps.” I kick off my shoes and stretch my toes. Angela and I often call each other names. It’s a show of endearment and not malicious like it sounds.
“He’s still in love with you, you know.” Maisey blushes slightly as she sips her champagne. “Gregor told me.”
“Pax told me that too.” I sigh.
“Do you love him?” Crystal asks, crawling onto the bed with me. We both situate ourselves against the headboard, while Angela and Maisey take up residence at the foot of the bed. It feels like a slumber party, minus the slumber part.
“I’m not sure I ever stopped,” I whisper in response to Crystal’s question, tears pooling. Again. I rest my head on her shoulder and she reaches up to stroke my hair. “I don’t want to cry about this. I’m being lame. What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing,” Maisey says. “And you aren’t being lame, you are a woman in charge of her emotions, who isn’t afraid to feel them.”
“Hoo-rah!” Crystal raises her glass.
“So, what’s the problem? If you still love him, you may as well marry him. Big deal.” Angela fills all our glasses again. It’s a good thing Maisey brought two bottles.
“It’s weird!” I fling a hand in the air to enunciate my point. “Right?”
“What’s weird about it?” Crystal asks.
“For one, I was supposed to marry someone else today!”
“So?” Angela asks.
“Am I making a big deal out of nothing?” I ask Crystal and Maisey. “Since this one over here”—I gesture to Angela—“seems to think that marrying someone else is no big thing.”
Both heads nod back at me.
“So, what do I do?”
“This might just be me, but I say go get your guy,” Crystal says.
“Just like that?” I ask.
“Just like that,” Angela says.
“Hell, yes,” Maisey adds.
Go get my guy. Just like that. Hell, yes. Well, shit, maybe I’m the only weird thing here.
I drain my glass. “Okay. How?”
Crystal hands me my phone from the nightstand. “You could start by calling, find out where he’s at, and then go talk to him. No pressure, just a conversation.”
“Okay.” My hands shake as I pull up Pax’s number. It used to be first in my favorites list. Now it’s buried in the “Bs” under his last name.
I hesitate before hitting the button to connect. “I’m scared.”
“Of?” the girls chorus.
“I don’t know. Being rejected? Being happy? Having it work out? Having it not?”
“Pfft.” Crystal waves a hand in the air. “That’s normal. Don’t even worry about that. It’s called doubt. It’s what we mortals feel when making a decision. You fancy pants people wouldn’t know of such things.” I laugh and hit the button to connect the call. Then hold my breath. It goes straight to voicemail. I disconnect before leaving a message and tell the girls as much.
“I’ll call Gregor,” Maisey says.
“And say what?” I ask.
“I’ll just find out if he knows where Pax is.”
I nod in agreement and she makes the call.
“Hey, it’s Maisey,” she says. Then she giggles. “I was just wondering if you knew where Pax is . . . oh . . . oh no, where? . . . do you think . . . okay . . . thank you.”
She turns to us. “Gregor just put him on the ferry back to Seattle. And he thinks Pax is going straight from there to the other ferry that’ll take him back to Port Orchard and his house after that. He says that Pax was doing okay, but not great. And that he wan
ted to be alone.”
“Is that good?” I ask.
“I think so,” Maisey says. “I mean, he’s just going home. You know where that is, right?”
“No,” I say. “He bought that place after we divorced and moved back here. I was still living in Los Angeles. I have no idea where he lives.”
“Okay,” Maisey says. “Coming right up.” She calls Gregor again and gets Pax’s address for me. We know there isn’t another ferry for at least a half an hour, so there’s a little time to finish our champagne. Even though part of me wants to go pace on the ferry dock waiting for the next one to depart.
“So, what’s the story with Gregor,” Angela asks Maisey, who in turn blushes a delightful shade of pink.
“I’ve never met anyone like him,” she gushes. “I mean, he’s just so nice.”
I almost choke on my champagne at that. But then I remember I’m giving Igor BigJerksy another chance, starting by no longer calling him Igor BigJerksy. And that’s in large part due to how happy Gregor seems to make Maisey. Even though it’s only been a week.
Maisey keeps talking. “He’s completely okay with my daughter. Even though I won’t introduce them for a while. And he’s funny. Smart. Charming.”
“We still talking about Gregor?” I joke.
Maisey laughs. “He said that you guys have a checkered past.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Crystal adds.
“I’m going to have to get along with him if Pax and I get back together,” I say.
“Especially if he and I start dating.” Maisey blushes. “You and I are friends now, you can’t take it back. You’re stuck with me.”
I smile at her. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“When you and Pax get back together,” Angela says to me.
“Huh?” I ask her.
“You said if you and Pax get back together. I’m saying when you do.”
I nod in agreement, grab my wrap and clutch, and put my heels back on. “Is it too early to head to the ferry?”
“Not at all,” Crystal says. “If nothing else, it will make us feel like we are doing something productive.”
