Take a Bow (The Perfect Plans Series Book 2) (36 page)

“I don’t know what to believe anymore…She looked right at me, Stace. She knew I was there, and she didn’t say a word,” I give in to the overflowing emotion I’ve been holding inside as she hugs me. “So many things have gone wrong. Maybe we just weren’t meant to be.”

“Oh, bumblebee. I don’t know why bad, stupid, painful shit happens to people, but I do know that you have to fight back. Don’t let it win. Deal with it. Learn from it. And start over,” she smiles. “Thomas taught me that.”

“I’m so happy that you’re happy. You deserve this, Stace.”

“So do you, baby girl,” she wipes my tears.

We sit in silence for a few moments, staring at nothing as if weighing the situation over and over in our heads. “Maybe he was drunk…” Stacey finally suggests.

“Would that excuse him from playing rubber ducky with Brothel Barbie?” I look down, fumbling at the fold of my jeans at my bent knee.

“Well,
you
were drunk when you went for a test drive with Ken Doll’s tongue,” she purses her lips.

“I was upset!” I stand to walk off my defensive outburst, swiping at my tear-stained cheeks.

“Alex was upset too. Just saying,” she adds, re-pursing her lips with a head tilt when I turn to glare at her.

“I
kn-ow
,” I release a defeated sigh, joining her back on the bed. “But, Stace, what happened with Andrew was just a kiss. I’m not sure Alex and I could get past…” I trail off, having to swallow back the vomit-laced words. “I’m just not sure I could ever forgive him.”

“You will. Although, whether that means he’s lost your heart forever is up to you. But you do have to forgive him. Forgiveness is a gift to yourself, pookie.”

“Wow. That’s deep.”

“I know, right?” she laughs. “Thomas has invaded my psyche.”

“He seems to have done more than that. I hate to break it to you, but you’re beginning to portray him in the light of a knight in shining armor. Maybe one day you’ll open up about why you would even need one?” I force her gaze, squeezing her hand.

“What, and open the dungeon floodgates?” she forces a pained laugh.

“To quote a wise and wonderful friend, ‘do you know how much I love you’? You have been there for me for anything and everything, anytime. I’m waiting for the day when you’ll let me return the favor.”

“Well, lucky you! Today is that day,” she smiles. “I want my bestie slash beautiful Maid of Honor to have a wonderful day by my side,” she squeezes my hand. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Leading you up the aisle to the man of your dreams? You bet your cute ass I will. Let’s go start getting ready.”

“
My
cute ass? You must have me confused with this perfect-assed whore I know,” she smiles with a wink, taking my hand as I lead her towards the bathroom.

“I love you, Stace.”

“I love you too, bubble-ass,” she playfully pinches my butt, stopping to give me a tight hug.

“THIS IS IT!” I mutter, practically bouncing in excitement. “You look so beautiful! I can’t wait to see the look on Thomas’s face when he sees you walking up the aisle.”

Stacey’s face, however, looks a little frozen in fear, her eyes glazed over, staring right through me.

“Stace? Are you okay?”

“What?” she seems to snap back to reality, shaking her head a little as she focuses on me. “Ummm, yeah…good to go. Just nervous.”

“Stacey Stevenson nervous? Get outta here,” I tease her, smoothing out her dress.

“There’s a first time for everything,” her grin is more fitting to that of a psych patient the moment before meltdown. “I’m more nervous than a whore in church, Abs.”

“You are a whore in church,” I laugh, trying to break through to her.

She smiles, and I’m elated to see it’s real. “I hate you.”

“No, you love me. And more importantly, you love Thomas. So, let’s go make you Mrs. Stacey Fines.”

“Mrs. Stacey
Stevenson
-Fines.”

“That works too,” I wink, just as the processional begins to play. “Are you ready for this?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she takes a deep breath, reaching for my arm as the usher prepares to open the doors. “I’m madly in love with him, Aby.”

“I know,” I squeeze back impending tears, turning to give her a quick hug. “I’ll see you at the altar?”

“We’ll see,” she smiles again, its edges laced with a returned nervous twitch. “Hey, Abs,” she pauses for me to look back at her, “…don’t trip.”

“I hate you,” I tease, blowing her a kiss before nodding to the usher.

The doors open fully to reveal the church full of standing guests, all turned in their pews to witness the impending bride. My breath hitches instantly at the thought that Alex could very well be here among the crowd, his eyes on me, watching my every move.

A quick scan through the smiling faces sends my pulse racing, and I immediately stop looking. Meeting Alex’s gaze would be the death of me. I couldn’t bare the look I imagine would be on his face, not to mention the stab to my heart if I found him sitting with
her
.
Would he really come with her?
I squeeze the stem of my bouquet with every small breath of composure through my shaky steps, measured in time with the beat of the bass of Canon in D. Each stroke of the chord echoes in the pounding of my heart as I turn my full attention towards the destination ahead.

Thomas looks the epitome of poise, radiating a love and excitement that would make any woman weak in the knees. His warm smile and sweet wink instantly transforms my forced performance into genuine calm as I reach my place, turning to join in to welcome the bride.

The traditional bridal march precedes momentary gasps and elated whispers as Stacey comes into view at the end of the isle.

I glance quickly towards Thomas, a quick gasp myself, tears threatening to form at the sight. He’s mesmerized, his awe apparent as he swallows a well of loving emotion through a jubilant smile. The love emanating from his gaze is breathtaking as he watches Stacey walk slowly up the aisle, beaming radiantly in her stunning gown, her direct focus locked in place on his.

I’ve never seen her more beautiful - her stunning red tresses styled to perfection, the curls cascading over her bare shoulders, a sparkling diamond necklace peeking through. The sweetheart neckline of her strapless wedding gown hugs her curves beautifully amid a jewel-beaded sash at the waist, the ruched chiffon flaring out slighting just below her hips into a simple A-line to the floor, her shimmery Jimmy Choo heels peeking out from underneath. The dress is simple, yet elegant, a classic look reminiscent of a nineteen fifties glamour wedding.

Reaching for Thomas’s hand, Stacey exudes happiness, love. So much so, that I feel a jealous pang in my chest. Guilt seeps into my pores as I witness the commencement of their union, plagued by my own broken heart. It takes everything in my power to refrain from peering into the crowd. For him. The man I wish desperately was standing up at this altar with me in their place. I’m a fool. A foolish, lovesick fool. I’ve lost him. Yet here I stand, at my best friend’s wedding thinking about him.
And, clearly, he’s not thinking about you
- my inner actress snaps me back to the present just in time to catch the pastor’s call for objection.

“May you speak now or forever hold your peace.”

The momentary opening gives me the perfect opportunity to sneak a glance through the seated guests, and I shamefully take it, to no avail. I don’t even spot Helena, though I may have missed them both in the quick scan before turning back to the bride and groom.

No
, I close my eyes at the realization. I didn’t miss him. I
know
he’s not here. I know that if he were, I would be drawn to him. It’s a painful reality I can’t deny.

“IS IT RUDE to throw a breath mint in someone’s mouth while they’re talking?” Stacey whispers at my side.

“Stop it,” I laugh. It’s funny, but such a good question. One more kiss to my cheek and I may turn into a toad. It’ll be a whole new kind of fairytale.

“I’m dead serious. I think that last dude brushed his teeth with moth balls,” she adds, shielding her mouth inconspicuously in time to greet another guest with a smile. “I know I won the battle for my quaint little wedding, but, Jesus, did you see the guest list for this reception? Look at all of these people. Thomas knows the whole fucking city.”

“Yes, it seems he does. And, on that note, perhaps his bride should dial down the
wearing-say
a little.”

“What? Speak fucking English, Abs.”

I roll my eyes. “The swearing, Stace. Dial it down a notch.”

“
Oh, sure
. Anything for you, sweet-tits,” she rolls her eyes, and I pinch her underarm. “Ouch,” she drawls dramatically, shooting me an
I can’t believe you just did that
glare.

“There’s my beautiful bride,” Thomas greets us from behind, folding Stacey in his arms before she has time to turn. “Have I told you today how lucky I am?” he kisses her cheek.

She leans back into him, beaming. “Tell me again. Or better yet,” she turns in his embrace to face him, “…show me.”

“Gladly, Mrs. Stevenson-Fines,” he stares lovingly into her eyes before cupping her cheeks, bending to take her in a sweet kiss. “Today, tomorrow…forever.”

I feel like a voyeur standing next to them, completely absorbed in their moment of bliss. Yet I can’t turn away, each second I stare pulling me into a bubble of fantasy as they morph into a visual of Alex and I. It’s Alex’s face I see as he kisses her a second time,
my
lips he’s kissing; the tingle created there so real it draws the pull of my hand to my mouth, suddenly breaking the spell. Shaking it off, I turn away and close my eyes against the aching pain in my heart.

The hurt doesn’t keep the torturing memories at bay, however, as I’m thrown back in time to our island retreat. All of the beautifully romantic ways Alex showed me his love,
proved
his love, before even saying the words. His love was perfection, whispered so perfectly in his every touch, every glance, every kiss.

Too good to be true
- my inner actress bites, pinching the arm of my inner dreamer. I grimace from the sting of reality, taking a deep breath of composure, its bitter aftertaste begging to be washed down with a large gulp of Champagne as I reach for my glass.

“I’m sorry to see Alex absent from your side, Aby. Filming obligations?” Thomas questions innocently.

I notice Stacey purse her lips as I take another large sip of Champagne. Of course she hasn’t had a chance to fill Thomas in on the latest drama.
Humph
. My love life can now be summed up in theatrical highlights. Irony really is a bitch.
Well, take a bow, Cupid. You deserve it, you chubby-faced whore
, I take another drink.

“We’re not…exactly sure if Alex will be able to make it,” Stacey chimes in with an awkward smile.

“Oh, well, it’s a shame he missed dinner, but perhaps he will arrive in time to sweep you onto the dance floor,” Thomas winks.

“Perhaps,” I raise my flute in cheers to my pathetic lie, emptying its contents in time for a refill from the lovely young waiter with impeccable timing. Maybe I can get drunk and stumble my way through the rest of the evening.
Yes, that sounds like a perfect plan
, I smile to myself on sip as another guest greets Stacey and Thomas.

“You look lovely this evening, Abigail.”

I spin on my heels at the slithering sound of the voice - Helena Adelaide, in all her sickeningly, beautiful glory, smiling radiantly at me. I can’t help peering over her shoulder wondering if Alex lingers not far behind. Instant hatred burns through me, exploding through my veins before hardening my bitter heart. I never had any real reason to hate her before, at least not before last night. But now, as I’m assaulted with the visual of her naked body emerging from Alex’s bathroom, her evil sneer, I realize
hate
isn’t a strong enough word. My hands tremble noticeably from the onslaught, spilling my glass of Champagne.

“Are you all right, darling? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

No, whore-dusa, actually
. For a moment in my mind, she contorts into the whorish reptile that she is, bulging in the center from devouring her latest victim.
Well, I’ll be damned if she thinks that’s going to be me
. “Let me guess,” I lay the flute down, picking up a napkin to wipe my hand, “…you’re dying to brag about your little conquest? Maybe rub my nose in it a little?” I bend to whisper the latter in her ear with patronizing composure - a silent salute to my inner actress.