Addictive Collision (22 page)

I smiled. “We are, aren’t we?”

“Definitely!” she said, squeezing my hands in reassurance. 

Grinning, my cousin walked in with a dozen red roses. “Looks like somebody sent the bride flowers.”

I lit up. “They’re beautiful,” I said, taking the bouquet to read the card.

“Well? Who sent them?” Nadia asked curiously.

I shot her the widest grin. “Who else? They’re from Jake. The card says he’s dreamt of this day forever, and that he can’t wait for our lives to begin together as husband and wife.”

“Aw!” Nadia said. “That’s so sweet.”

A tear rolled down my cheek. “Is he here yet? I have to go thank him.”

“No way, young lady!” Nadia scolded. “As your maid of honor, it is my duty to make sure he doesn’t see you before the ceremony. It’s bad luck, and we can’t have that.”

“Then have him come to the door, and I’ll open it just a crack.”

“He’s not here yet,” my cousin informed me.

“What!?” My jaw dropped. “He was supposed to be here an hour ago. I just assumed he was with all the groomsmen, because the photographer said he was heading that way to get some pictures. Where do you think—”

“I’m sure he’ll be here any minute,” my cousin said, cutting me off before I went off into a full-blown panic. “I’ll go look for him and tell him his beautiful bride is waiting.”

I plastered on a fake smile as she turned around and left. “Hey, Nadia, can you do me a huge favor?” I asked. “Can you tell Jim I need to talk to him?”

She lightly patted my shoulder. “Harassing the best man isn’t gonna get your groom here any quicker.”

“I know, but...I just know Jake would never be late—not for this. Where’s my cell phone?” I asked, frantically digging through my purse. I looked back up at Nadia. “Do you think anything happened, that something came up or—”

“Calm down, Ashly,” she said in a soft tone. “I’m sure he’s fine. He’s probably planning some kind of romantic last-minute surprise.”

“You’re right. I need to calm down,” I said, taking deep breaths, “but I can’t. Where the heck is my phone anyway?” I asked, anxiously darting my eyes all around the room. I set the flowers down and smiled when my cell phone rang.

Nadia picked it up from the table. “Here. It was right where you left it.”

“I’m such a scatterbrain.”

“Well, it’s excusable today. You’re a bride with a million things running through that pretty little head of yours.” She glanced down with a huge smile. “Put all your worries to rest. It’s Jake.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” I breathed a sigh of relief as I reached for the phone. “Jake!” I squealed in excitement. “I got the flowers! They’re just gorgeous.”

When he didn’t say anything, I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Why aren’t you here yet? And where the heck are you? The ceremony starts in less than thirty minutes.”

“Ashly, uh...there’s something I need to tell you,” as he awkwardly said the words no woman would want to hear on her wedding day.

I clenched my hands into tight fists; something in his voice made me really nervous. “Jake, what’s wrong?”

“I’m so sorry, but...look, I-I just can’t do this.”

Confusion and shock overwhelmed me. Through the fog in my mind, it took me a minute to realize what he was actually saying. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t make it,” he said in a grim tone.

I tried to process his words, but everything had begun to spin around me, as if I was caught in some nightmarish hurricane. “What do you mean you can’t make it? And why are you so nonchalant? This isn’t just some Superbowl get-together with your buddies, Jake! It’s our wedding!” 

Silence was his only response.

“Babe, are you just getting cold feet or what?” I asked in a panicked voice. “Tell me you aren’t seriously considering backing out and leaving me at the alt—”

“Ashly, I’m
not
ready to get married. I’ve been thinking about it hard. I’m only twenty years old, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for all of this—for any of it, really.”

Shock flooded over me, and every square inch of me, inside and out, seemed to crumble, as if I’d been hit by a Mack truck. “So you tell me thirty minutes before you’re supposed to walk down the aisle? What am I supposed to tell everyone?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I love you, Jake. I love you so much. Please don’t do this.”

He didn’t even bother returning those three precious words. 

My hand trembled as I held the phone. “We need to talk face to face. I at least deserve that, don’t you think?”

“I’ve gotta go,” he whispered.

“Baby, please don’t! Jake!” I begged.

Click
.

My heart lurched. I frantically called him back, but it just rang and rang. “C’mon, Jakey. Please pick up!” I shouted. A second later, my panic had turned to anger. “Pick up the damn phone.” With shaky fingers, I texted him: “U have 2 talk 2 me!”

“It’s over. I’m sorry. I think it’s best if U never call this # again.”

As I gazed down at the heartless, dismissive text, I screamed. The thought of never talking to him again, of never seeing him again, of him not sliding that ring on my finger tore me in two. 

“What’s wrong?” Nadia asked.

Overcome with a rollercoaster of emotions, I threw my cell phone, shattering it against the wall. “He’s backing out. Jake’s not coming.”

“What?” she questioned in complete disbelief. “Where is he?”

My breath hitched in my throat.

“Ashly?”

“I-I don’t know.” My heart was beating a million times a minute. “He’s not coming,” I repeated, my voice barely able to tremble out the words.

She gripped my shaking hands. “What do you mean?”

“He’s pulling the plug on our wonderful life,” I barely choked out, “and he just told me to never contact him again.”

“That’s crazy,” she retorted. “Why?”

“He says he can’t...that he’s not ready,” I gasped between sobs. “I feel like I’ve just been hit by a semi, and I didn’t even see it coming!”

“He’s despicable!” Nadia shouted, pulling me into a close embrace. 

Emotion flooded through me, more like a monsoon this time, and I let out a sob so loud I was sure the entire church had heard it. I’d never felt pain and grief rip through me like that.
How could he dump me at the altar? He couldn’t have told me this last night, before all the guests came, before I got all dressed up like some stupid fairytale princess in this ridiculous dress? Who needs all these beads and lace anyway?

I shouted. I cursed. I cried. He was everything I wanted and more, and now I’d never have him.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! Brides are supposed to run away, not grooms! Didn’t he ever see that Julia Roberts movie?

I couldn’t breathe.

I fell into a pit of despair as my world crashed down around me. I couldn’t help wondering what the heck had happened. We’d seen each other the night before, and everything had seemed fine, perfect as always. As usual, we couldn’t stop staring into each other’s eyes. When we talked about the wedding, he’d seemed more excited than me. As a matter of fact, it was all he talked about, and he said more than once that he couldn’t wait to see me in my wedding dress. I thought we shared such a deep connection, that we’d forever be madly in love.
Why would he just throw it all away? For what? Why? And why won’t he even talk to me about it?

“Nadia,” I said, sniffling.

“Yeah? What is it, sweetie?”

“I’ve changed my mind. This is the absolute worst day of my life.” 

* * *

W
eeks passed, and I continued to mourn my loss of Jake. Every breath and movement took effort. Some days, the pain was so overwhelming that I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t function, and couldn’t control the tears. No one understood what I was going through, but everyone tried to be of some comfort on the rough days, and I appreciated that. On other days, I felt like I could manage. I hardly ate and woke up in cold sweats left over from my nightmares. I knew I’d never get over the loss of Jake dumping me, and I’d learned the hard lesson that in the blink of an eye, one’s whole world could take a swan dive; the elevator from heaven to hell was a fast-moving one. One minute, my life had been perfect. I’d been a princess with her Prince Charming. Then, in the next, I was a damsel in distress all over again.
How will I ever move forward?
I wondered. My heart was torn.

Sometimes the grief was so paralyzing that I had to remind myself to breathe. I knew there was no roadmap to get me through the throes of pain, but I hated that it hurt so damn much and for so damn long. 

“I love you, Jake...and I miss you,” I whispered. “Not a minute goes by when I don’t think about you,” I muttered, recalling his beautiful face, those captivating features that I missed so much.

Everyone told me it would get easier in time, but it hadn’t—not after all those weeks. Knowing I’d never feel Jake’s touch, see his beaming smile, or hear his laugh again was almost unbearable. I missed the way he said my name, and it pained me that I wouldn’t feel his hand in mine. I’d never be able to look into his beautiful blue eyes again. There would be no more romantic dinners under the stars, no more slow dances, no more romantic birthday celebrations. All of that had been stolen away from me, leaving a giant, gaping hole in my heart.

I could still hear his voice in my head, could still feel his touch. It was something like that old country song I’d heard on the radio somewhere: I couldn’t stop loving him. I simply didn’t have the strength. As I went through his clothes, I could still smell him. All of my senses told me that he was right there in that room with me, that nothing had changed, but it had. It had all changed for the worst.

Five years later...

I
crossed my legs and glanced out the window, watching the sheets of rain pelt the glass and the ground and the trees. I’d buried my mother three months ago, and I’d finally summoned the courage to hear the reading of her will. Losing her to cancer was like having my heart ripped out. She’d always been such a strong, guiding, domineering force in my life. Sure, she always criticized my friends, choices, and lifestyle, and she totally controlled my dad. She always nagged me for everything she found inappropriate, which was everything from fast food to a minor curse word to a skirt above the knees. In fact, she found fault with me no matter what I did, but I didn’t care. She was my mother, a damn good one, and I loved her for it. Beneath that hard exterior of hers, I knew she always had my best interests in mind, and even during her hard-fought battle with that cruel disease, she’d tried to look out for me.   

A tear slipped down my face, like the raindrops on the windowpane, as I met my lawyer’s gaze. “Can we please get started? Being here is just making all of this more painful.”

It was seven p.m., and I’d spent the better part of the day taking high-fashion photos of glamorous models in designer gowns. I still had to review the pictures and write up the article. As a fashion journalist and photographer, I always seemed to have to take work home with me. Honestly, after the day I’d had, I just wanted to take a hot shower and curl up with a good book and an even better glass of wine—anything to take my mind off the pain and loneliness of having yet another precious person ripped out of my life. After her death, I’d cried every night and even at work in the bathroom. In the midst of those emotional meltdowns, I felt the world crashing all around me.

My attorney looked down at his watch. “He’s late.”

“Who’s late?” I inquired.

“Your mother left very specific instructions, and we have to abide by them,” he said.

I hoped he’d give me a little clue about who our mystery date was going to be, but he remained secretive and mysterious. Mr. Shelby had been my mother’s lawyer for thirty years, and she’d trusted him completely. I knew there was more to the whole thing than he was telling me, and I could tell by his nervous twitch that he was up to no good. 

“Please tell me what’s going on, Mr. Shelby,” I begged. “You know how much I hate surprises.”

Lifting a brow, he recited robotically, “I’m sorry, Miss Roberts, but according to the terms of the decedent’s Last Will and Testament, I am not permitted to mention his name.”

“But who else would she include? All of her closer friends and the rest of my relatives have already received whatever she bequeathed them. I thought I was the only one left.”

He picked up a file and smiled a grin that looked even faker than his toupee. “Please just be patient a while longer.”

My mind raced with questions. I was really the closest person to my mother. My father had died two years earlier from a heart attack, and I had no siblings. My mother had been a lonely child, so I just didn’t get it. We were just a small, close-knit family, so it didn’t make sense that she’d brought in an outsider.

Mr. Shelby looked at me. “You may want to check your face. It seems your mascara is running.”

I rolled my eyes. “Well, excuse me for crying. This is very difficult for me.”

“That’s understandable,” he said softly, sounding surprisingly human and handing me a tissue.

I pulled out my compact and stared in the little round mirror at my bloodshot hazel eyes. I looked so tired and beat. I used the tissue to wipe the blackish-gray rivers from my cheeks and to touch up my raccoon eyes with the Samsonites under them, then fixed the long brown strands of hair that had insisted on falling out of my French braid. Fortunately, my clothing had stayed pretty much intact; I’d opted for a long-sleeved, covered placket blouse tucked neatly into fashionable black slacks. 

A knock on the door made me glance up, eager to see who we’d been waiting for.

“Come in,” the lawyer said. 

When the heavy walnut door creaked open, my jaw dropped. There, standing before me, was my high school sweetheart, though he somehow looked like a stranger. Speechless, I stared at his beautiful face. His rain-soaked black locks fell around his shoulders in silken ebony waves. My eyes slid up his towering body, gliding over his high cheekbones and the dark stubble shading his sharp jaw.