People say the wedding is for the bride, that the groom just shows up for the day and doesn’t dream about it for a lifetime like the bride does. While the latter might be true, the rest isn’t. I was excited to get married, to vow to be together forever in front of a small group of friends and what little family supported us and our relationship.
I wonder if her parents will be there for her today, if her mom will help her put her dress on and if her dad will walk her down the aisle.
If they’re more accepting of a man who’s seventeen years older than she is simply because he runs a successful business. A man who doesn’t strip for a living.
“You’re shaking,” Kendall whispers, wrapping her small arms around my waist from behind.
I turn around and inhale a calming breath at the sight of her in her one-shoulder lilac bridesmaid’s dress. Her hair is parted to the side and pinned back on the other.
My heart rate slows as I take her in, instantly giving me peace. That’s what Kendall does to me. Her presence always mesmerizes me, calming me when I spiral. Yesterday I threw back beers like I found out Coors Light was going out of business, but when I got to the rehearsal dinner and saw her, I relaxed. As much as I could, anyway.
I’m still attending a wedding. On the same day my ex-fiancée is getting married.
Some shit just can’t be fixed, no matter how badly we want others to take away that pain. But Kendall makes me think less and less about it, especially when she delicately wraps her hands around my neck and stands on her tiptoes to kiss me softly.
I meet her halfway and whisper against her lips, “You look great.”
She pulls back and hides her smile, but I catch her before she can look down.
“Don’t hide from me,” I say, my voice raspy. “I need to see your smile.”
She draws her eyebrows together in confusion. “Are you okay?”
“Kendall, get back here!” her mother demands, running from the altar. “Your sister is getting married. Can you pay at least a little attention to her?” She smiles at me impatiently. “Sebastian, she’ll be out in a minute.”
I smile and back away from Kendall.
She squeezes my hand. “She’s stressed. Also, upset that I didn’t tell her I was bringing a date.”
“You didn’t tell anyone about me?”
“Well, it was last minute, and I—”
“Kendall! We need a group picture.” One of the other bridesmaids waves her over.
When I release her hand, it feels like I’m releasing her from being with me. Letting her off the hook, because why else would she not tell her family and friends about me other than she’s embarrassed by me?
Other than she doesn’t see us having a future.
As I watch Kendall go, uneasiness settles in the pit of my stomach.
Chapter 39
Kendall
I lift the bottom of my maxi dress and walk toward Sam, who’s frantically waving at me like I can’t see her from ten feet away. As she leads me to the dressing rooms, I can’t rid myself of the nagging feeling that I’m losing Sebastian. I need to explain why I didn’t tell my family. He doesn’t know them and doesn’t understand.
I need to explain their judgmental habits, that I don’t want them ruining my feelings for him.
That I want to keep him all for myself.
I started to explain it to him last night, but his sour mood seemed to dissipate when we got back to the house. He held me close to his chest while we talked into the night, sharing stories about high school.
“Okay, smile!” The photographer, a girl we went to high school with, takes a few shots, pointing and telling us to switch and squeeze together and make silly faces.
But I’m not in a silly mood.
My mother stands behind the photographer, smiling at us like she’s in the picture herself. “Kendall, smile, please. Act happy.”
“I am happy.” I roll my eyes and put on the realest smile I can fashion. Except I’m not happy—I’m worried. Worried Sebastian is sulking somewhere and making this a bigger deal than it is.
“Okay,” the photographer says while clapping her hands, “let’s get some shots by the altar!”
Again, I smile as we stand at the front of the room, facing the pews that will soon be filled with guests. I smile as wide as I can while we take shot after shot, my mom pointing out all the angles she wants and how she wants us like she’s the photographer.
But when I watch Sebastian walk toward the door with the phone to his ear, rubbing his head, my smile goes from wide to tight-lipped.
Then frowning at his disappearing figure.
Chapter 40
Sebastian
“You’re in Alabama?” my mother screeches. I have to pull the phone away from my ear. “What the hell are you doing there? The wedding is today. Did you forget?”
I chuckle heartlessly. The fact that she thinks I could forget is laughable. Her thinking I was actually going to go is even more ludicrous.
That’s Mom, though. Unaware of anything or anyone other than herself. Careless about anyone’s feelings, believing we should bury them because it does no good to act on them. The world will always deal us bad hands like the dealer at a blackjack table. Sure, there’s a lucky one here and there, but the dealer—the house—always wins.
Since Joelle, I’ve chosen to be happy with my rules and routine. This way the house—life—can’t get me.
But right now, this last week, I’m ready to go back to my angry tendencies and snap my phone in half. Partly because my mom is unbelievable, and partly because I shouldn’t be here, with Kendall and her family. Not when she’s clearly embarrassed by me.
After she walked away, her cousin asked me what I do for a living, and when I told him, he laughed. If he had just taken a drink, he’d have spit it out all over me.
When he saw I was serious, his laugh purposely turned into a cough, his hand to his chest like a little voice inside his head was yelling, Abort! Abort!
He walked away quickly and, I assume, told others, as they stared with wide eyes of disbelief at me until my mother called. I’ve never been ashamed or embarrassed by what I do, and these small-town rich kids can fuck off, but at that moment, I was glad my mother called.
For once, she rescued me.
“Why would I want to attend my ex-fiancée’s wedding, Mother?” I hiss. “The same ex-fiancée who cheated on me with my—” I whirl around at the sound of a gasp behind me.
A gasp that at any other time I’d find endearing and sexy, but it’s full of fear now.
Fear and shock.
“Sebastian, stop being a child,” my mother continues while I stare at a wide-eyed Kendall. With the large church doors so expansive behind her, she looks small. Fragile even. Especially with that look of surprise on her face.
Unlike the strong woman I’ve come to know. And I’ve done this to her.
“Mom, I’ll call you back.” I hang up before I even finish the sentence and step toward her. “Kendall, I can explain.”
“You were engaged before?” she whispers.
My heart stops at the way she shrinks into herself, wrapping her arms around her waist. “It was a long time ago, and that’s not even the whole story. I never brought any of it up because it doesn’t matter anymore. She’s out of my life and mind. You’re all I’ve been able to think about.”
“Except now this woman is getting married, and it’s bothering you. That’s what’s wrong, isn’t it.” She says it more like a statement, understanding washing over her. “That’s why you were drunk last night when you showed up. Because you haven’t been thinking about her,” she spits, twisting her full lips in disgust and narrowing her eyes at me before she turns to leave.
I grab her arm. She has every right to be upset that I didn’t tell her, but her tone and judgment piss me off. I’m not the one who has explaining to do. Joelle has nothing to do with what’s really going on here. “Don’t give me that look. You look like the rest of
your family when I told them I’m a stripper.”
She exhales and looks away like she’s annoyed with this conversation.
“Why did you even bring me here? To make yourself feel better standing next to a stripper, make yourself feel like you have your shit together?” My jaw might finally break, along with the rest of me. History’s repeating itself right in front of my eyes, and I can’t stop it.
I can’t stop what I know is coming.
She whips her head toward me, a strand of hair sticking to her lip gloss. She pulls it back so hard I think she might rip it off her head. “If that were the case, I don’t think having a stripper next to me would help.”
“You can say what you want, but I actually like what I do.” Exactly what I said to Joelle only a year ago. “That’s why I went back to doing this. I did the corporate thing, the nine-to-five bullshit. Wasn’t for me.”
“Oh, cut the fucking crap already. Like your dream has always been dancing and getting naked for desperate housewives. You got slammed, knocked to the ground, and couldn’t fucking get back up in the business world. Stop pretending everything’s fine when—”
“You’re right. I should stop seeing the good in everything. Especially you. I’ll save myself a lot of heartache, right? Because you’ll always be this stubborn, so stubborn you can’t even muster up an apology to your sister, to finally fix things between you that happened, what, seven years ago?” I shake my head at her, looking down on her for the first time out of anger. “Instead, you’ve spent your whole adult life arguing with her like you’re still in high school. Grow up.”
The crack of her hand meeting my cheek echoes around us, suffocating us.
With one hand on her stomach like she’s going to throw up, she covers her mouth with the other, tears in her eyes.
I watch her intently, trying to decide what else to say, but my whole body is shaking from anger. I turn away from her, done with the conversation. Done with this town that doesn’t even have a CVS or a decent bar.
Done with Kendall, the girl I thought was different but wasn’t. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve made the mistake of trusting women I meet at shows.
But it’ll damn well be my last.
Chapter 41
Kendall
I’ve never seen Sebastian so angry, but it was more than that. Disappointed. He was so disappointed.
In me.
In us.
And what’s worse is that he’s right. I’m twenty-three years old but still can’t manage to have a mature conversation with my sister who used to be my best friend. Still haven’t managed to find a career or anything I’m interested in, and I dropped out of college three years ago. Haven’t even had a real boyfriend since Adam, which wasn’t even a relationship, something that’s never been clearer than it is now after being with Sebastian.
None of what I had with Adam was real, no matter how much I wanted it to be or how much I tried to convince myself it was.
The only real thing about it was the aftermath.
And the shell of myself that he left behind in his path of destruction. Even my shell is now cracking the longer I stare after Sebastian.
I’ve trapped myself in a cycle of self-destruction, and I can’t find my voice or feeling in my legs to chase after him and make things right.
The door behind me creaks open as Sebastian essentially runs down the steps and rips his tie off, his back straining against his shirt. Even his muscles are angry at me.
“Kendall, there you are!” Elaine pulls my arm. “We’re about to start.”
I nod and walk robotically back into the church, not wanting to take my eyes off Sebastian. Not wanting this to be the last time I see him.
I make it through the ceremony and halfway through the reception with a forced smile on my face. I only run to the bathroom twice to cry, which took off half my makeup, but everyone’s so focused on Lauren—as they should be—that they haven’t noticed me.
At the reception, the bartender graciously hands me a cigarette, so I sneak off to where my mother won’t find me. She’d actually strangle me if she knows I’m smoking, then try to get me to move back because “LA is a toxic environment.” As if LA is the problem here.
Then I watch my sister and Rhett share their first dance, smiling at each other like they’re the only ones in the room.
The sight makes me want to puke.
And the more time that passes, I move from devastated to flat-out pissed. Pissed that Sebastian didn’t tell me about a major life event, then ditched me, and now I’ve had to deal with my family asking where he went, plus my extended family asking me why I’m still single with no kids at twenty-three like I’m actually sixty. I’m pissed at their small-town thinking that everyone should be married by now.
This small-town thinking is why I’m in this mess, why I felt the need to hide Sebastian in the first place.
And Adam. Stupid, fucking Adam, who still torments me long after he’s gone. We haven’t spoken in years, yet his presence still lingers, his harsh words playing on repeat in my mind.
Sam has checked on me four times like I found out I have some life-threatening disease, and I hate her pity. I hate all their pity.
Sebastian was supposed to make this weekend bearable, fun even. Play interference with the questions and pats on my shoulder with variations of “Don’t worry, you’ll find someone.”
Instead, I get pity. Pity from everyone as they admire Lauren in all her lacy glory while I’m puffy-eyed and barefoot because even my Steven Madden strappy heels can’t make me feel better.
Probably because my parents bought me those shoes, and now I can’t enjoy them. They’re tainted.
I exhale roughly, trying to release some of the tension and anger built up. Trying to be happy for Lauren.
Our feud isn’t all my fault, contrary to what Sebastian might think. He doesn’t know me, and I clearly don’t know him.
He was engaged? And didn’t think it was important to tell me, to share with me about his life?
For someone who’s been so hell-bent on me sharing myself—mind, body, and soul—with him, he sure kept a lot to himself.
The thought angers me further.
“Whoa.” Sam comes up and takes my bouquet from me. “There won’t be any flowers left if you keep that up.”
I look down at the petals falling around my feet like snow and realize I was picking off the petals in an angry game of he loves me, he loves me not.
He definitely loves me not.
“You making it?” Sam says, rubbing my back and frowning.
I grit my teeth. “I’m fine.”
But all I can think about is Sebastian. It’s my sister’s wedding day, and all I can think about is that my own relationship—one that could’ve been the real thing—is over.
Over after only a few weeks.
This is why I don’t get serious with guys. Why I never let them get too close. It always ends in heartbreak. And for the first time, I know what that feels like, to be aching from head to toe in complete devastation.
I angrily text him, but he doesn’t respond. I go through the motions for the sake of my sister, dance with the other bridesmaids, take shots with the groomsmen. All my favorite songs play, and if Sebastian was here, he’d playfully tease me for my terrible rendition of “Havana” by Camila Cabello.
Toward the end of the reception, he still hasn’t texted me.
A part of me didn’t think he actually left, but he did. Never came back, probably walked back to the house for his things. That’s how badly he wanted to get away from me.
The longer he doesn’t text and the more my mother smooths down my hair but coos at Lauren even though her hair is falling down at the sides, I want to explode.
“Where’s your date?” Camden, Rhett’s college friend and groomsman, asks. When we walked down the aisle together, he held me close and winked at his friends watching us. That irritated me, but him bringing up Sebastian is even worse in this moment.
But I smile as sweetly as I can, as I would’ve pre-Sebastian era, when things were just fun with no strings or feelings attached. “What date?”
“That’s what I like to hear.” He takes my hand and spins me around toward the dance floor. He scans me up and down, and I realize my mistake.
I’m angry at Sebastian, but I don’t want Camden to take his place. “Actually, I had too many tequila shots. Probably shouldn’t be spinning.” I giggle like I used to when playing up my femininity. Guys love it, and Camden is no different. Only Sebastian was immune.
Camden begs me to stay longer, but I pull away.
I’m still close enough to hear him mumble, “Tease.”
I drop the sweet-as-honey smile, place my hands on my hips, and feel the familiar rage rumbling in the pit of my stomach. “What the fuck did you say?”
He holds his hands up and backs away from me without explanation.
I stare him down the whole time, the rage building inside me.
I need another shot.
Except I take three and wink at the bartender when I’m done. He’s smiling at me, and in another life, we’d be making out in the back, groping each other before the night was over.
Instead, I slide off the barstool on wobbly legs. I put my shoes back on when I got off the dance floor, but they’re not worth it. The minute I take them off again and set them on the floor, my mother orders, “Put your shoes back on. We’re not animals.”
I blink at her. “Where did you come from?”
“What?”
“You’re like a ninja. Were you actually waiting in the bushes for me to take my shoes off? To let me know that you’re disappointed yet again?”
She grabs me rather firmly by the arm and turns me to face her head-on. “Are you drunk?”
I throw my hand up, still holding my shoes. They shine midair, and I’m mesmerized by them. The shining lights in this dark night.
Strip for Me Page 18
