Resistance (3 page)

Clara
.

The
sight of her glowing with love and happiness makes my heart constrict. I wanted to be that man. For a while I was.

Sorta
.

Our life was perfect. Our family, albeit unconventional, was perfect
.

Then he happened
.

Dominic Napoli stole her heart. He stole her away from me. It happened in slow motion. I could feel the distance between us growing. I could see where it would all end up, yet still I stayed and took it
.

I held out hope. I wanted her to pick me
.

Pick me
.

Did I tell her that?

No.

Not really
.

Not until it was too late
.

I should have fought for her from the beginning. I should have noticed and taken it as my cue to step up my game. To woo her, or whatever that shit's called. I should have done
something
.

I didn’t
.

Women don’t want status quo and that’s what I gave her. Then again, some people won’t love you no matter what you do. Comfort, familiarity
, and security were never what she truly needed. I knew that. I knew how to work around it, even. She got restless, I wrangled her in. That was our game. I knew what I was doing.

I should have altered my game
.

I didn’t
.

Too late now
.

The flashes blind the happy couple over and over until I can see in Clara’s face that she’s had enough. She rocks up on her toes and whispers something to Dom who then grins and promptly lets the photographer know that they are done. He should have seen that in her face like I did. He should know her that well
.

He should
.

I do
.

Therein lies the problem
.

The reception is amazing. I want to hate it, I really do, but Clara planned it and we’re so alike in music choices and style that I can’t find it in me. My foot's been tapping the entire time I’ve been sitting at my table. All our favorite songs play softly in the background. I’m lost in the moment. Lost in thoughts. Just lost
.

Amanda kicks me under the table and nods her head. I grunt and snap out of it, eyeing her wildly until I realize what’s going on. It’s toast time. Standing, I lift my glass to the Bride and Groom’s table. Clara sits perched on Dom’s lap
, lost in the moment. It looks good on her.

Radiance
.

Happiness
.

Bliss
.

She’s all of those things right now
.

The room is quiet. So quiet. I breathe deep
ly and start before I lose my nerve.

“Ladies and gentlemen
, as ‘father’ of the bride I have the pleasure of making the first speech.” I smirk right on cue, sure to bear my dimples to all the single ladies. “I have been given lots and lots of advice on what or what not to say, such as keep it short, no smutty jokes, try and remember...names...et cetera. However, it is been over six years since I was allowed to say anything without being disagreed with, laughed at, or ignored, so this is too good an opportunity to miss. At the end of the day it is my speech and I can say what I like.” Clara’s eyes narrow in on me. Her brown to my blue eyes holding each other, waiting. I drag a hand through my shaggy dirty blonde hair. I know she’s worried.

She shouldn't be
.

“Thank you all for coming to help celebrate this very special day. As I look around the room I realize how many friends Dom and Clara have and I hope that you all have a wonderful afternoon and evening. Today I must admit that I am the proudest man in the world to have accompanied Clara down the aisle. I think that you will all agree that she looked stunning.” I stop and wait for the requisite head nods. “This is where I am supposed to say a few embarrassing things about her when she was younger but she works with me and she probably knows more gossip about me than I know about her, so I have called a truce. Suffice it to say that I am very proud of how she looks today and the woman she’s become and am delighted that she has found someone who she obviously loves and cares so much for.
”

Now we get to the tricky part of the speech
.

“
According to the Internet’s idiots’ guide to wedding speeches, this is where I am supposed to give advice on the subject of marriage. Many would probably say that I am probably not the best person to do this. Perhaps the only thing I know about marriage is that it’s the time when you stop painting the town and start painting walls and ceilings. But I’ve never been married, so what do I really know?

“
I know that falling in love’s not hard, yet staying in love is.” I pause and stare directly into her eyes. “Anyway, you two don’t need my advice. The only thing I would say is that you must choose the right partner for the right reason and I think that they both have done this.”

I suppose that after five years of living with her I ought to be able to manage something a bit more constructive
.

“Dom, just remember these three words
:
all, just, and only
. You will hear them time and again, like, '
all
you need to do is, it
only
costs so much, and it will
just
take five minutes.'

“
These are all gross understatements, but as a great philosopher or comedian said, ‘women are to be loved and not understood.’ Mind you, helping around the house is not a bad idea. I know from crime statistics that there has never been a case of a wife shooting her husband while he was doing the dishes.” Everyone chuckles right on cue.

“Marriage is the meeting of two minds, of two hearts
, and of two souls. It is clear that Dom and Clara are a perfect example of this.” I pause and raise my glass higher. “May they be blessed with happiness that grows and with love that lasts and a peaceful life together.” I bring the glass to my lips and chug everything in it.

Clapping. So much clapping. It hurts my ears
.

Clara rounds the table, heading right for me
, and slams into me with such force that I’m now seated again. Her arms wind around my neck as she strangles me. I can feel warm, wet tears at my neck.

It breaks me
.

“Beautiful, Mr. Pokey, just beautiful,” she mutters softly into my ear. I cringe at the old term of endearment for my dick. Mr. Pokey retreats into himself. I pat her back gently and she unlatches herself from me.

“Go back before Dominic kills me with his glare,” I grumble. Her head whips around to look at him and she chuckles.

“It’s good for him,” she quips before kissing my cheek and sauntering back to his lap
.

His lap
.

Not mine
.

After the speeches have been made, the food's been eaten
, and the cake's been cut, the party takes off. Music blares, the dance floor throbs, and I stand at the bar drowning myself in gin.

“What’s got you in such a snit?” Amanda
says as she wobbles to a halt next to me. Clara’s two best friends are the shit. I love Marg and Amanda but Amanda always seems to want in my pants. Not that she doesn't stand a chance, I just don't seem to be into anyone at this point. It’s too bad, because Amanda is smokin’ hot. I’m grumpy, though, and her presence irritates me at the moment.

“Really?” I bark. I sense immediately that my response was a little over the top and try to soften my face but I’m so wasted I’m not sure if it’s working or not. I probably just look like a stroke
victim.

“Sorry
, Sawyer. It’s tough, I get it, but it’s been like two years since you two’ve been together or lived together, you know? It’s time to move on, mend, heal, whatever you want to call it.” She waves a hand sloppily in the air.

“
Wanna fuck?” I blurt. Where did that come from? Her eyes widen with surprise.

“Holy shit
. YES!” she squeals. I can’t help but chuckle. She’s subtly been hinting that she wants to get in my pants for the last six months. I’m ready to leave and she was the first opportunity that presented itself.

Women
.

“Let’s get outta here. The bike's out back.” Her eyes widen with excitement and sloppy lust
.

“Are you good to drive?” she asks hesitantly. I can almost see her mentally kicking herself for distracting me and possibly ruining her chance at tonight
.

“You staying here?” I ask. She nods her head vigorously up and down
.

“Lead the way
, princess.”

She grins wide and starts for the lobby. I follow Amanda out of the reception hall but glance back one last time at Clara. Her eyes find mine and for the first time all day they don’t shine with bliss. It’s only a split second but regret, sadness, hurt
, even, is directed at me while she watches me walk out with her best friend.

Clara decimated my heart
.

I swing my head around and watch as Amanda’s pert little ass sways drunkenly in front of me
.

I’ll do anything to forget for a couple hours
, to block out my twisted obsession with Clara.

Anything
.

Chapter 2

I’ve lost her.

Two little words shot deep into my heart and decimated any hope I’d held onto:
“I do.” That was the moment it was really final. Completely over. I’ve been drunk most every day since the wedding. It seems to help. I like feeling nothing. It’s a nice change for me.

Fourteen days. Fourteen days since the wedding. Fourteen days they’ve been away on the honeymoon. They came home last night
.

I only know this because Allie called at 11:00
p.m. when they landed, squealing about snorkeling, zip-lining, and other fantastic adventures they’d had in Fiji.
Good for fucking them
. That’s the last thought I have before a knock at the front door startles me from my thinking.

I open the door wearing the same jeans I'd been wearing the night before, but with a black
t-shirt and an unsnapped, faded denim shirt over it. I haven't even shaved. Clara’s warm brown eyes and tight little body assault my vision. It almost hurts to look at her. I was getting close to being able to not remember her.

"How long since you've eaten a full meal or had a few hours
of sleep? Have you walked by a mirror lately?" Clara prods, looking shocked at my appearance as she pushes through the entry. I scrub my stubbly jaw with one hand and cock an eyebrow at her.

“Sorry, but visions of you on your honeymoon getting fucked senseless interfered with my ability to function,” I snap. Oh sweet baby Jesus
, why did I say that out loud? It’s like I’m forever missing the filter needed to speak to her lately. She sinks onto the plaid camelback sofa, looking embarrassed and pissed off, straight down to the roots of her hair.

I’m an asshole. A
bonafide shithead.

“Fuck you
, Sawyer,” she spits, glaring at me.

“I’m sorry.” I sigh deep
ly and collapse on the couch next to her. I scratch at my scalp and try to think of a decent apology. That was uncalled for. It’s been long enough that I should be moving on now.
Should
.

“Allie wants to see you, like, NOW, but I had a feeling you might not be in the best shape to accept
eleven-year-old visitors. And thanks a lot by the way for Amanda,” she snaps at me, changing the subject. For that I’m grateful.

“What about Amanda?” I close my eyes and rest my head on the back of the sofa
.

“WHAT ABOUT AMANDA?!” she shrieks at me. I scrunch my face up and plug my ears. The lungs on that woman could kill a small town
and make babies two counties over wake up and cry. It’s torture.

“Clara, please, you’re making my eardrums bleed,” I groan, cringing. She swats my hands away from my ears
, looking like pure evil.

“I’ve been fielding texts from her the entire vacation!
THAT'S
what! Of all the people you could’ve screwed, why her?! I mean, not just screwed, but you called out my
NAME
? Sawyer, really?” she yells and throws her arms up in the air in dramatic flair and slaps her palms down on her thighs.

Fuck.

Amanda.

I’d almost managed to rid myself of that memory. Colossal screw
-up on my end. Never have one-night stands with people you know or with friends of people you know. Stranger danger does not apply to the one-night-stand scenario.

“I don’t have a good excuse,” I admit sheepishly. The truth will set you free.
Right
?

“Well tell
her
that, not me! I didn’t need to know any of the details of your goddamned night together,” she huffs, irritated.

“I think it’s best we just have no contact
,” I say flippantly.

“Yeah,” she snorts
. “I gathered that from her whining about you not taking her calls or texting her back,” she drones on sarcastically. Can’t she just cut me some slack?

“What? I was wasted, in a bad place mentally
, and fucked your friend. It happened. Deal,” I snarl. She stares at me for an ungodly amount of time, her face twisted up in a scowl, before standing and kicking a pizza box on the floor. It slides two feet before hitting a pile of sneakers near the door. God, I love her mad face. Sick.

I’m sick in the head
.

“Pick up the house, shower, and get dressed, Allie will be over in three hours,” she buzzes, thoroughly irked. It makes me want to smash a plate over her head and fuck her at the same time. My emotions for her always sway from one extreme to the other. Never a happy
, contented medium. She slams the door behind her, leaving me grumpy and irritable. I grind my palms into my eyes and get started cleaning up because one thing that will never wane is my overwhelming drive to be the best father Allie will ever have. Clara’s right about that, I need to at least make it appear that I’m pulled together and ready for her to spend the night.

For all the hurt I feel over Clara and I, it still amazes me that in an impossibly hard situation she was able to be true to herself. She did what she needed to, to carve out her own slice of happiness. That’s more than I can say
.