I’m trying to focus on everything the woman in front of me is saying. Trying to pay attention to the color swatches in her hand, and the dozens of floral arrangements on the table beside us, but all I can think about is him. Not the man beside me who is set to become my husband, Not the one I am sitting here and planning an engagement party with.
My engagement party.
If only my life were that simple.
No, instead I am thinking about the one with dark eyes and rough hands, the one who can be both callous and demanding, but also passionate and gentle. The one who is the last person I ever thought would make me fall, and the one who stepped back before he could catch me.
Except that isn’t right, he didn’t step back, I pushed him, violently, volatilely, and oh so viciously. I pushed him so hard he went over the edge with me, tumbling into my downfall with no one to save him, but how could I save him? I can’t even save myself.
My brother’s words from earlier this week are playing on a loop in my head. “You’re not fucking marrying Bradley Thorne, Maddie, if it’s the last thing I ever do.” He stormed out without another word, and I wanted to believe him, I wanted to believe him so badly it hurt, but now here I sit, with my future husband clutching my fingers tightly between his own.
I’m trapped, slowly suffocating under the pressure of what is expected of me, of what is demanded of me. Josh has been my anchor this last week, keeping me away from our parents and making excuses for why I’m not around. He has been over at the house every day, only slipping from my side to go to class, practice, and take multiple secret phone calls that I don’t have the energy to enquire about.
No, all my energy is needed here, on pretending I am excited to become Mrs Bradley Thorne. I’m smiling so hard it’s hurting my cheeks, and my fingers are going white between his grasp. The pain is a welcome reminder that I can still feel something, anything, and I nod frequently as the woman talks to make it look like I’m paying attention.
It’s all going relatively well until she starts talking about the fact that the engagement party and wedding are going to be so close together.
“There is so much to do, so much to plan, and with so little time,” she says, a tiny pair of pretentious glasses that she clearly doesn’t even need perched on the end of her nose. “Any reason for the rush, or are we harboring a secret love child?” she laughs at her own joke, as my entire body freezes at her casually tossed out humor.
Of course Brad quickly charms her with his sickly smile. “No, I haven’t had a chance to knock her up yet.” His thumb brushes the top of my hand as if this is some inside joke between us, but it’s that last word of his that trips me up.
Yet.
He hasn’t knocked me up yet, but he will. He is going to become my fiancé, and then eventually my husband. He will be the father of my children, and the man who comes home to me every day, even if he spent it like my father used to by fucking his secretary. The entire picture of my impending life steals the breath from my lungs.
I can’t breathe.
This is how it will be, him answering for me while I smile prettily and pliantly beside him. Forgetting my own passions and wants, and replacing them with his. And for what? To keep my father happy, to keep my place at FU, is that even worth it? Is it even what I want anymore?
I can’t breathe.
We will live together, his ring will be a shackle on my dainty finger, and my children will be his. Entrapped by him and this life forever.
I can’t breathe.
I abruptly stand, almost stumbling in the heels I knew I would have to wear to placate him, as the two of them snap their gaze towards me. “Excuse me for a moment,” I choke out on a labored breath. “I’m just going to use the restroom.” I don’t wait for a response from either of them, striding from the room on shaky legs as my breaths come quicker and quicker. I make it to a supply closet before I break down completely, gasping for air, trying to desperately fill my lungs.
I’m having a panic attack, something I have been prone to for years but they magically, dramatically increased when I finally moved out of my parents house for college. The irony of the connection of the two isn’t lost on me, yet still the attack on my body is so full on I can barely remain upright. My hands are trembling, red marks from how tight Brad held them still lingering, as I reach into my purse to find my phone. I don’t know why I do it, I’m not thinking straight clearly, but I bring his number up anyway, and click call before I can change my mind.
I need to talk to Nova, I need to hear his voice. I have to talk to him, to explain what happened, to tell him that this whole thing isn’t what he thinks. Just one call, just one explanation, and maybe this mountain of guilt that has been sitting on my chest since he walked away from me last week can lessen. It’s all too much, all of this here, and everything with him. I’m losing my mind and there is only one of them I can change for the better. Maybe I will be able to breathe again if I can just explain that I didn’t lie to him.
The phone rings, once, twice, three times, and then it cuts off, and my heart breaks all over again when I realize he has rejected my call, sending me straight to voicemail.
I’m done here.
The last words he spoke to me echo in my mind as I take a deep breath and say what I need to, what I should have said last week. Each word feeling like a release in my soul, allowing me to inhale with every one until my heart is no longer pounding inside my chest. When I end the call, I let my tears fall. This is it, this is goodbye. I allow myself a few more minutes of pain and regret, before I take another deep breath and find a bathroom to freshen up.
By the time I make it back to Brad and the party planner, they have picked out a color theme, flowers, and decorations, all of which I smile and nod at without even looking. My chest feels tight but I make it through the rest of the meeting, agreeing to meet with her again on the night of the party to help oversee everything. That is what my life will consist of going forward, a pretty planner with the purpose of pleasing my husband. Just like my mother.
We say our goodbyes, and as Brad leads me outside he curves his arm around my back, dropping it low so it covers the top of my ass. I have to hide my shiver, acting as if the November chill is responsible, and not just the feel of his skin on mine. But apparently I don’t pretend as well as I thought.
“You’ll have to do better than that next week, darling, especially when we will have an audience.” He leads me to where Julian is idling by the car waiting to take me home. “Maybe we should practice in private first,” he adds in a flirty tone, pulling my body against his, and gripping my ass fully.
Choking back a gag, I fist my hands in his shirt, taking the disgusting slam of his lips against my own. I allow his invasion for a couple of seconds before I push him off with a firm shove. “Ever heard of consent?” I ask, sarcastically, wiping his saliva from my mouth, as I ignore the pain of him erasing the last kiss I had with Nova.
Brad scoffs a laugh as I stride towards Julian, who promptly opens the door for me, keeping his gaze firmly on my date. “I won’t need consent when you become my wife,” Brad calls out to my back, and I watch the brow of my guard strain in fury.
Yeah, he’s a fucking pig I know. Lucky me.
“And people wonder why wives kill their husbands” I reply sweetly, keeping my forced smile in place, as I climb into the back seat of the car. Brad steps forward, but his response is cut off by Julian slamming the door and encasing me inside the car before he can say anything else.
There is a quick exchange of words between the two of them that causes my future fiancé to pale a little, but then he straightens his shoulders and says something that makes Julian laugh. No other words are shared as Julian opens his own door and climbs inside, locking them promptly, before quickly starting the engine and pulling out into the traffic.
“Everything okay?” I ask, leaning to catch his gaze in the mirror.
Julian’s eyes flick to mine for longer than they should considering he is driving, before he smiles softly. “It will be soon.” His tone is ominous, and I want to ask what he means by that, but he shifts his eyes back to the road and it makes me feel like I don’t want the answer.
Instead I focus on my phone, ignoring the stab of pain when I think about Nova rejecting my call, and searching for my brother’s name instead. I’m surprised to find I don’t have messages from him, he hasn’t left me alone all week, and when his phone goes straight to voicemail, the theme of the day apparently, my brow furrows in confusion.
“Have you spoken to my brother?” I break the silence, questioning Julian. “Do you know if he is waiting at the house?”
Julian finds my questioning stare once more, flicking it to and from the road before he clears his throat and responds, “Not as far as I know, Maddie.” Then he promptly turns his eyes back to the road, effectively ending any further conversation.
I shake off the weird vibe I am getting from him and turn my attention to the passing town as we head home. When we arrive, I’m not surprised to find Hector waiting for us, we are a little late for their shift swap and as we pull up outside the house, he moves to open the door for me, smirking as Julian curses at him.
“Evening, Maddie,” he coos, holding out a food container for me. “A treat from the wife, she said if you even think about sharing it with me that she will castrate me.”
For the first time in hours my smile is real as I take the container and open it to inspect it. “Banana bread,” I guess out loud, from the look and the smell, and Hector confirms with a nod. “Your favorite,” I muse, enjoying how Neeve likes to torture her husband.
Another nod as he sheepishly admits, “I skipped out on dinner with the in-laws.” I smirk even wider, knowing that if they are anything like mine that I can’t even blame him.
Taking pity on him I reply, “Don’t worry, I’ll save you a slice for your morning coffee.”
“Hey what about me,” Julian cuts in, and I have to roll my eyes, the two of them are such overgrown children,
“I’ll save you some too,” I say, shaking my head as I bid them both a goodnight and move towards my door. When I turn to wave they both seem to be having a quiet, heated conversation, and my confusion from earlier comes back full force. So much so that I can’t help but call out, “Hector, have you seen my brother?”
Both of their heads snap towards me as he snaps back far too quickly, “Nope.” And before I can say anything else he adds, “Night, Maddie.”
When I enter the house it’s dark as I expected. Hallie is having dinner with her family and won’t be home until late, and even with Hector outside, I make sure the porch light is on for her. Then I head upstairs to strip off my clothes and take a much needed shower, the water not hot enough to erase the touch of my future fiancé. Once I am done I head into my room to get changed, not letting my eyes linger on the jersey still slung over the back of my chair as I reach for one of Josh’s. The number twenty-two doesn’t feel as familiar as it once did, not now that I’ve had the weight of the number nineteen against me.
I should probably give Nova’s jersey back to him, or at least throw it out. I am just torturing myself by leaving it there, but I can’t seem to bring myself to do it yet. Grabbing my phone and turning on my Harry Styles playlist to cheer me up, I reach for my Kindle and throw myself into someone’s fictional love life to try and appease my own. I have barely gotten a few chapters in when the music cuts off and my phone starts ringing.
Reaching to grab it, I frown at the unfamiliar number flashing across my screen. I don’t give my number out to strangers, with one obvious exception, so I have no idea who could be calling me. I think about ignoring it, not caring about whoever is on the other end, and then I think about the voicemail I left earlier. Maybe it’s him. I accept the call faster than I’d like to admit and my ears are instantly assaulted by muffled music and shouting.
“Hello?” I say, the word sounding like a question, as I wait for the person on the other end of the line to speak.
“Princess Peters?” a familiar voice all but shouts, and I pull the phone from my ear to check the number again.
“Archer?” I ask, recognising his voice but still not being completely sure it’s him. We don’t exactly talk, not really anyway, despite how close he has become to Hallie. He’s Nova’s friend, not mine.
“Yeah, look I’m sorry to call but I need your help,” he starts, before moving away from the phone and yelling, “Alexander, for the love of god keep him away from that prick before we all end up in jail.”
I can barely hear Reign’s response, but I am already sitting up in bed in a panic. “Archer, what happened? Is everything okay?”
There is a long pause and I check the phone again to make sure the connection is okay, even though I can still hear the dull beat of the music, before he finally sighs, “I’m not sure, can you come pick us up?”
A beam of hope pulses deep inside of my chest at his question, as I barely whisper, “Us?” I know who he means, he knows I know, but still I need the confirmation.
I swear I can feel Archer nodding before he replies, “Yeah, I think you’re the only one who will be able to calm him down.” I don’t need him to say anything else, I don’t even bother asking him any questions, I am already out of bed and shoving my feet into some leggings and boots.
“Text me the address,” I command, disconnecting the call and striding down the stairs, bypassing my coat as I grab my car keys.
When I open my front door and head outside, Hector is already alert, winding the window down, but before he can ask me anything I just hold up my keys and point to my car, signaling him to follow me. His engine is on before I can even start my own, and he pulls out onto the road behind me as I input the address Archer sent me after I ended the call into my navigation system.
The drive to the bar isn’t far, but the ride over feels like it takes forever, and when I reach my destination and spy who I am looking for, I don’t even properly park the car. I just pull up in the middle of the road and dart out of my door, rushing over to where Archer and Reign are trying, and failing, to keep Nova in place.
“Just let me go find him and I’ll wipe that fucking smirk off his face all over again,” he curses, eyes wildly scanning the street in the opposite direction to me. Yet still I spy the blackening beneath his eye, and the slight cut to his lip. His knuckles are the worst, swollen, angry, and red, and from the looks of things he has had more than a few drinks. He can barely keep himself upright.
“You already did man,” Reign starts, looking all too exhausted by their night, as he holds up his friend to stop him from slumping to the floor. “He was bleeding so much you’re lucky he didn’t need an ambulance.”
His Captain scoffs and before he can respond, Archer spots me and looks a little too relieved by my presence. “Finally, what the hell took you so long?”
I frown, looking down at my phone to check something before I reply, “It’s been nine minutes since you called.” Is he serious right now? This bar is ten minutes from my place and I made it here so fast I’m surprised I didn’t get pulled over for speeding.
Nova swings his head around at the sound of my voice, his stare drinking me in before he looks at Archer with an accusatory stare. “Really, you called my girl?” he sneers, the term of endearment not sounding affectionate in the slightest, and I pretend it doesn’t sting.
“I thought you said she wasn’t your girl,” Archer snaps back, raising his brows at him and it’s clear they have been talking about me, but Nova remains silent. “That’s what I thought,” Archer adds. “Now shut up and get your ass in her car.”
Before he can refuse his best friend, Reign steps up, pulling Nova with him and they both start moving him towards me. I rush to open the back door for them, stepping aside so Alexander can shove his Captain inside without protest. When he looks at me in thanks, Nova snaps, “Don’t fucking look at her, Reign, what did I tell you.”
Alexander sighs, averting his gaze back to his friend and I shut them both inside. When I turn to Archer, he is watching me closely in wonder, staring at me so hard like he expects all of my secrets to appear on my skin for him to read. Ignoring his intense glare I gesture to my car. “Are you coming or not?” Slowly he nods, rounding the other side of the vehicle and climbing inside himself.
You could cut the tension in the car with a knife, and when my gaze collides with Nova’s in the mirror, my heart begins to race.
This is not how I expected my night to end.
