Give Me Yesterday (18 page)

It’s not like I have an aversion to naked men. I’m not squeamish. No, the problem is that if I’d stayed in the bathroom and caught even a glimpse of that sculpted, so-fucking-hot body, I’m pretty sure my hormones would mutiny and make my brain walk the plank.

Slipping on a hotel robe, blow dryer in hand, I set up my things on the waist height, oak dresser, making use of the large mirror hung overhead. I don’t have time to do anything fancy, so I dry the front and twist my hair up into its usual style. The door of the bathroom opens and steam billows out, carrying the delicious scent of Chase’s spicy cologne. Butterflies are going crazy in my stomach, and then he steps out wearing a suit. I burst into flames, so hot I’ll be nothing but a pile of ash in about thirty seconds.

I don’t stand around to admire the view. I’m in grave danger of reneging on my stance of no sex. I grab my underwear and dress, grateful I haven’t put on my panties yet, and like the coward that I am, I hide in the bathroom to finish getting ready. Once I’ve donned my black lace underwear, a black cocktail dress with a flared skirt, three-quarter sleeves, and a wide neckline that reveals just a fraction of my shoulders, and black, suede stilettos, I feel as though I’ve replaced my armor. I throw my shoulders back and tell my spine to be an unyielding backbone. Nothing is going to rattle me. I’ll just float through the next few hours, then spend the reception getting drunk.

When Chase sees me approaching, he looks me up and down, whistling with a wolfish grin on his face. “You look incredibly gorgeous, Tori. So fuckable, it’s going to take everything I have to keep from hauling you to the nearest dark place and having my way with you.” Then he pauses at my head and frowns. “Why is your hair like that?” he growls.

“This is how I always wear it.”

“I don’t like that hairstyle, it’s not you.”

I raise an eyebrow at his words. “I’ve worn my hair this way, every day for the better part of the last ten years. How is it not me?”

“It’s not the real you. It’s Victoria the Ice Queen lawyer, not my Tori,” he pouts.

I sigh, “Look Chase, you’re the one who talked me into doing this, so you’re going to have to let me deal with it in my own way. After we get out of this nightmare, we’ll see about getting back the girl you’re looking for. And stop pouting, you look ridiculous.” Actually he looks the opposite of ridiculous, and who knew that a pout would bring out that sexy little dimple.

He studies me for a few beats, then walks over and kisses me. Let me rephrase, he devours me, hauling me into the curve of his body so we are glued together, and running his hands down my back to palm my ass. Before I even have much of a chance to respond, he steps back, and judges my appearance for a second time.

Seemingly happy with what he sees, he grins at me smugly. “There she is. Just needed to make sure I hadn’t lost her.” I don’t quite understand what he means, but he gestures to his watch, so I race over to the table and pick up my little black clutch and silver wrap. On my way to the door, I do a quick check in the mirror, and I see what Chase was referring to. My cheeks are pink, the subtle flush spreading down to the exposed skin above the neckline of my dress. My eyes are bright, the blue sparkling like the ocean in the sun. I look well loved. I look…happy.

“Babe, we need to go,” Chase urges. “I texted your parents while you were showering and they are waiting for us in the coffee shop downstairs.” I stumble out of the trance and force myself to walk away.

We take the elevator down, and with every floor it drops, I feel my body getting stiff, shoring up the walls around my heart. Chase encircles my wrist with his long fingers and pries open my clenched fist, then laces our fingers together. I almost pull away, retreating into myself, but at the last second, I decide to accept his strength, to let him help me carry some of this burden. He gently squeezes my hand and I look up to see a warm and soothing look on his face.

The doors swoosh open and I recognize the blue carpet, cream walls, and gold filigree accents of the lobby. This hotel really is exquisite. I can see why my cousin chose to be married here. I had always dreamed of having my wedding at The Drake in Chicago, but I would have been happy renewing my vows here. The thought is unexpected and begins to hang a cloud over me.

My parents are sitting at a table out on the patio of the hotel coffee shop. I muster up as much of a smile as I can and march over to them.
Well, not march, so much as follow behind while Chase basically drags me along.
Same difference.

I wonder if they are angry we missed breakfast, but when they see us, they jump up to greet us. My mother smiles at me conspiratorially, cocking her head in Chase’s direction and winks knowingly. I shift uncomfortably and wrinkle my nose at the direction she’s headed in. No one, no matter how close you are—
no one
wants to discuss sex with their mother. I stand by the theory that I was created through Immaculate Conception.

Chase has shaken my father’s hand and been pounded on the back, next my mother gives him a hug. He apologizes for having missed breakfast but they wave it off, and sit back down. Chase pulls out my chair and gets an approving smile from my parents. I would roll my eyes and call him a suck up, except he is always opening doors for me, and being gentlemanly overall. It makes me feel cherished.

We order a light breakfast of coffee and pastries, after which my father asks about my job and how my cases are going. Oh, hallelujah. This is a safe topic. I can prattle on about my work all day long and it will never lead into dangerous territory. I talk about it until it’s time to make our way to the banquet hall. My mother looks as though she wants to say something more as we stand to leave, so I give her a strained smile and turn to follow my father and Chase who are already moving.

I scowl when my father leads up toward the family seats, only a couple of rows from the front. With my mother taking up the rear, we don’t have much choice but to file in and take our seats. The ballroom is just as resplendent as the rest of the hotel, with the added splash of color from the red and pink flowers scattered about. The aisle leads up to a beautiful cream arch and on each side of the curve sits a golden baby angel. My eyes are glued to those little cherubs. I want to look away but it’s as if they have a hold on me and are determined to tear me apart.

I’m finally able to break the connection when I feel a warm hand on my thigh, and look up to see Chase staring down, concern evident in his eyes. I give him a wobbly smile, trying to reconstruct the walls that are crumbling. Pain is seeping in through the cracks and I feel it stabbing at my chest and heart.

“The Wedding March” begins and we stand, all eyes turning to the bride. Danielle walks softly down the aisle, her satin gown reminiscent of a princess’s ball gown. The large skirt is full from the tulle underneath, pearls sprinkled throughout. Puffed sleeves on her pearl speckled top, and topping the ensemble off with a sparkling tiara. She reminds me of every little girl’s dream, to be a Disney princess. Would Sarah have chosen to be a princess? I almost recoil back when the thought hits me as Danielle walks by. Chase’s long fingers wrap gently around my arms and pull me back, supporting me against his chest.

We take our seats again and I start to feel restless, fidgeting with my hands in my lap, twisting my fingers around. I feel as though my skin is tightening, stretching as if it’s a shirt I put on that is too small. With every minute that passes, the air becomes thicker and I can’t get a full deep breath. The lack of oxygen has tears springing to my eyes and I blink furiously, trying to hold them back. I vaguely feel the warmth of a hand at my nape and the pressure in my muscles, the fingers kneading. I don’t want to be touched, the touch stings, so I shrug it off and surreptitiously take a few gulps of air, trying to fill my lungs.

It doesn’t work. They continue to grow shallow, and I watch the clock counting every tick, keeping my focus there, shutting out all of my surroundings. My hand stings and I realize that there is a large hand covering my gnarled mess of fingers, but it hurts, so I snatch them away, bring them to my chest and press tight, hoping it will alleviate some of the pressure.

The rushing of sound in my ears is permeated with the loud banging of clapping hands and I’m lifted from my seat by the elbow, so I’m standing with the rest of the crowd. I feel the tiniest release of the weight dragging me down. The throng of people are chattering and beginning to file out the room. I stumble along with them, desperate to get some air, but the mass is moving too slow. It takes every bit of my control not to scream at them to get the fuck out of my way!

Finally we reach the exit to the banquet hall and I head straight for the front door, only to realize what I need is to be alone in my own little space, rather than out in the open with people trying to talk to me or just existing in my presence. I ignore the sound of my name being called and rush to the ladies room just inside the hotel entrance. I shove the door open and see the perfect spot, a bride’s room. I rush in and slam the door behind me, locking it, and keeping the lights off. I step to the wall next to the door and lean heavily against it, until my body weight becomes too heavy for me and I slide down into a heap on the floor.

My tongue tastes salty and I realize that tears are pouring from my eyes. I shut them and a slide show plays before me, pictures of the future that should have been mine. Renewing my vows with Ben, dressed in white, a beautiful room filled with our friends and family. Our sweet little Sarah as the most beautiful little flower girl, her cherub face beaming up at us, flowers in her strawberry curls. Every one of Sarah’s birthdays slide by, the visions too short. I cling to them with everything I have, desperately wishing for yesterday.

I see my baby going to kindergarten, her first kiss, going to prom, graduating from high school, going to college, finding her own Prince Charming. My throat aches and my chest is ripping open as I sob, every picture making it more shredded and raw. The pain is so great that I begin to wish and hope that this is it. That it’s my turn to join my love and my baby girl.

I want her back. I can’t think, I can’t breathe, so I curl up into the fetal position on the floor, not holding back. My last moments with them are now flashing in front of me and I squeeze my eyes shut.
Oh no, no, please.
Not those memories. The pleading doesn’t work and I’m forced to look upon the lifeless body of the most precious, most beautiful angel that will ever grace the streets of heaven. The moment the doctor told me I’d lost them both, was when I broke. The moment that will forever be burned into my mind as the moment when I became nothing but another body going through the motions of life. Biding my time, just waiting for the day when it’s my turn.

I can’t do it. I can’t go another day living without them. My heart is irreparably broken.

I’m broken.

A light hurts my eyes as it slices across the floor, and then I become weightless. I’m so warm I want to bask in the pleasant feelings of this cocoon. Strong arms hold me tight and rock my body as it shakes with pain and sobbing. A smooth, deep sound spreads a balm on the jagged rips in my chest. I take a deep breath and the air is filled with a scent that soothes my aching lungs. It fills me up, every inhale sewing the pieces of my heart together.

My head is pushed into something soft and hard at the same time. Heat pours from it and I burrow into it, focusing on the steady beat I hear, allowing me to block out everything else around me. I’m floating now, the light growing brighter, causing me to turn my head deeper into my safe place. After an indeterminable amount of time, I feel softness underneath me, and the warm cocoon begins to go away. I whimper at the loss, and grasp on tight. “Don’t leave. Please, please don’t leave me,” I beg, the sound hoarse, scraping along the wreckage that is my throat.

“Baby, let me get a damp cloth and water for you. I promise I’ll be right back.” The voice washes over me, calming my soul, lessening the pain. It’s Chase. I hold on tight, not wanting to be without the comfort he brings. I just know the minute he leaves me, the blackness and the overwhelming pain will return. “I’ll be right back, baby. I swear. Just one second.” My grip is pried away and I open my eyes to watch him walk away. So, I shut them again. I don’t want to see my reality. I don’t want to lose anyone else.

It’s only seconds before I feel a cool cloth gently wiping over my face, down my neck, and along my nape. I feel my shoes being removed, then I’m turned onto my side and my zipper is lowered. I lift my lids and watch Chase pull my dress down and toss it on a chair. He raises me just enough to pull the covers down, removes my bra, and puts a T-shirt over my head. I know I should help, instead of being a limp, wet noodle, but I don’t have any stores of energy left.

He lays me back down, and brings a sheet up to cover me, then he begins to undress. When he’s down to his boxer briefs, he rounds the bed and slips under the covers. Moving over to me he stares into my eyes, well, what he can see of them. I can feel the swelling, almost forcing them shut. His melted chocolate eyes are full of pain as they look deeply into mine. Eventually, he leans down and places the sweetest, softest kiss on my cheek. Then he adjusts my position so that he is curled around me, back to front. I sink into the warmth, feeling calmer despite the endless tears spilling over from my eyes. I didn’t even notice that I’m still crying.

The hand not under my head begins to smooth over my hair, bringing it away from my face and running his fingers through it. The feeling brings a new heaviness, but this one is pleasant. It makes me boneless from exhaustion rather than pain. A new blackness begins to envelope me and I don’t fight it. Somehow, I know this darkness will be blissfully empty.