Chapter 12 Melanie
TWELVE
MELANIE
Church bells ring out, and rice is tossed into the air. The happy bride and groom are celebrated, and I… I want to puke.
“You’re so brave!” Drew’s Aunt Betty seeks me out the moment I enter the reception ballroom, taking my hands and twining our fingers together.
And I’m too friggin’ trained to toss her away.
“So brave. We know things didn’t work out between you and Drew, and I’ve never blamed you for that, despite what Arty says.
But to swallow your pride, apologize for how your relationship ended, and still show up for Drew on his big day is commendable. ”
Uncle Arty thinks I’m the problem? Noted.
But I paste on a smile and pray for alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol. “I wish Drew and Karla a lifetime of happiness.”
“Oh my gosh, Melanie Hamilton!” Drew’s third cousin…
twice removed, maybe? I don’t know. Makes a beeline across the mostly deserted dance floor and crushes me in a despicable hug.
I hate it. I absolutely despise it. “When I say I was shook to see you at the church!” She looks me up and down, her lips twitching with what I know is pity and scathing judgment.
“Imagine having the balls to call off a wedding the day before it was supposed to go ahead, pocket the gifts and gift money anyway, break Drew’s heart, and still show up today?
” She drags me in for another hug, whispering in my ear, “I wish I was that badass!”
I pocketed the gift money, too? Noted!
“So pleased to see you, Melanie.” Drew’s mother lays a chaste, didn’t-even-touch-my-skin, kiss on my cheek, then pulls back and does the same on the other side. Snooty, pointy-nosed bitch. “We appreciate you coming today.”
“Mmm.” I want to stab you with the cake-cutting knife. “It was my pleasure.”
“And we appreciate your discretion,” Drew’s father adds, one arm draped over his wife’s shoulders while he holds a flute of champagne in his free hand. Good news: he’s not going to hug me. “It was important for us all, don’t you think, that you could be here today to show your support for our son?”
“Uh-huh.” Fuck it. I channel my inner-Nick and revel in discomfort. “And the gifts from our wedding?” I look from one Taggart to the other. “I heard something about how I was the one who took those.” I take Mr. Taggart’s drink for myself. “My reality and your fictional recount do not align.”
“Oh, well…” The old man blusters. “No, but of course we couldn’t—”
“Tell the truth?” I bring the booze up—fake confidence, just the way Nick encourages it—but while I sip, I scan the filling room and desperately hope for my knight in two-thousand-dollar armor to appear.
Annnnytime now. “I was willing to swallow my pride and look like a fool for this event. But to hear that I was the unfaithful one?” I look at Mrs. Taggart.
“That I stole gifts and failed to acknowledge them?”
“Sweetheart…”
“You’re lucky I’m not Anna.” I lean closer, offering the empty glass back to the man who, in a different lifetime, would have been my father-in-law.
“If Drew had the good fortune to be engaged to Anna, instead of me, to cheat on Anna,” I chuckle, “you wouldn’t be enjoying the reputation you currently do.
My silence is to maintain my peace. It’s not about protecting your social standing.
Please remember that, because for every person who approaches me tonight to tell me of all my supposed indiscretions, my peace is being chipped away.
Once there is none left, I no longer have a reason to shut my mouth. ”
With a parting smile and an image of their smarmy, pale faces etched into my memory forever, I turn on my heels and prepare to leave, only to come up short, my heart thudding to a painful stop when Nick’s beautiful grin stretches wide, and his hand comes forward in offer.
“Princess.” He lowers, just an inch or two, into a kind of bow. “Can I have this dance?”
“B-but there’s no music.” Stammering, I stumble forward a step and swing my gaze around, terrified of the eyes that may be on us. I mean, there is music. But it’s not for dancing. It’s for mingling. Oh God, I’m panicking, and he’s going to make me— “Nick, no.”
He snatches my hand and pulls me in until we clash, my breath escaping on an explosive exhale and my legs straddling his strong thigh.
“There was no music when we danced in your yard.” He leads us the way he promised he would, attention-grabbing and yet entirely classy.
It’s not about being the circus and performing for a crowd, but rather, being him, adoring me, and that alone draws attention.
He dips me back, his eyes like molten lava and his touch, gentler than that of a true lover.
Then he presses his lips to the side of my neck and hums until I have no choice but to fall into what he’s offering.
“We dance to the beat of our love, Melanie. We fuck to the pulse in our hearts.” He nips at my neck and pulls me up again until I’m vertical, but dizzy.
Standing, but faint. Then he drags me in until we’re touching from hip to chest, his fingers twining with mine and his right palm teasing the swell of my ass.
Damn, he’s good.
“I was thinking earlier,” he murmurs by my ear, his lips brushing my temple, “about how utterly fortunate I am to be the only man in this room who gets to keep you. To be the lucky fucker who’ll go home with you tonight while everyone else returns to their humdrum lives.”
“Humdrum?” A fiery blush burns me up from my face to my chest, and if I were to look, probably all the way to my belly, too. “Laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?”
“Never.” He holds me close, swaying to talking music, his focus entirely and completely on me. Though God knows, mine annoyingly scans the room. Who is watching us? What are they thinking? Why can’t I stop caring? And why, when I’m in this man’s arms, can’t I simply focus on him?
Because it’s not real.
His affections are as fake as the relationships surrounding us.
“How was the drive over?” His voice is a rumbling comfort, a vibrating staccato that echoes throughout my body. “As horrible as we’d expect?”
“Mmhm.” Giving up on everyone else’s opinions, I try something new.
For the first time in my damn life, I close my eyes in a crowd of naysayers and lay my head on his chest instead.
I burrow into his warmth and soak up what he’s offering.
Like Cinderella at her ball, this will end for us tonight.
Our clock will run out, and the fairytale he’s so skilled at weaving will go up in smoke.
But that’s later. So why waste now? “It was the longest drive of my life,” I answer, just loud enough for him to hear.
But my hushed words now aren’t about keeping secrets from everyone else.
They’re about being here with him. Just us, because of all the people in this building, he’s the only one I’d actually throw water at if he was in flames.
I paid two thousand dollars for a date. But I’d like to think I’ll end the week with a friend.
“Karla wasn’t in the car,” I admit with a sly smile. “I don’t think she was brave enough to face me yet. But the rest of her wedding party was in there.”
“Lots of side eyes and bitching?”
“Like the world was ending, and they were certain their opinions would save it.” I untangle our fingers, only to slide my arms up and around the back of his neck.
When I trail my nails through the hair at his nape, and his body turns to purring mush, I snuggle in closer.
“They expressed their disappointment in Karla’s obligatory addition to her wedding party.
How they thought she was entirely too gracious for including me and how my tattered reputation is my own fault. ”
He snorts, his hands resting gently on my back. “Dumb bitches.”
“Mm. I was a little lost at first, but now I’m hearing the rumors. Did you know I was the one who cheated on him?”
“Yeah? You naughty girl.”
“And I cleared out the gift table from our failed wedding and banked the cash.”
He sighs, stroking my back until goosebumps sprint all the way to my toes. “You heathen.”
“It’s common knowledge that I was the problem, not him. And I’ve been ignoring these people for so long, I guess my silence was confirmation in their eyes.”
“You dirty, disrespectful whore.”
I choke out a laugh and make patterns in his hair with the tip of my finger. “Drew is yet to speak to me. It’s not like I want him to, but the fact he won’t makes me a little salty. He’s a coward, and he knows he was wrong for all this. He’s too scared to approach me.”
“That’s your power.” Nick pulls back just far enough to look down into my eyes. “He’s pissing his pants scared, and you’re out here dancing with the sexiest dude in the room.”
“Exactly.” I tilt my head back and accept his gentle kiss when he puckers his lips.
Because we’re putting on a show for everyone else, and couples…
kiss. It’s that simple. “Karla doesn’t want me here, which means she was pressured into it by society.
” I roll my eyes and enunciate every syllable in the word.
“And now she’s officially signed the certificate, which means she’s stuck for life.
Or until she finds a good divorce lawyer.
” Pleased, I go back to resting against his chest. Right where I can listen to his heart beat.
“She could leave. But I hope she doesn’t expect to take the wedding gifts with her.
Drew’s parents have probably already put those in the car. ”
He chuckles and turns us, changing the scenery, I suppose.
Giving our audience a new angle to stare at.
“I don’t say this to discredit your feelings, Princess.
But fuck,” he pulls back again and searches my eyes, “I have no clue how you could let these idiots affect how you see yourself. Someone you respect? Sure. If they say something is lacking, and it’s true, then you’re gonna take a moment of reflection and work on your shortcomings for a better you.
But them,” he glances across the top of my head, “these good for nothing, achieved nothing, social climbing, bottom of the barrel, braindead weasels? If you wouldn’t go to them for relationship advice, why would you accept their opinions on who you are? ”
“Breeding, mostly.” A million stolen moments where they pushed me down, when all I wanted to do was stand up.
Countless frowns, when all I wanted to see was a smile.
Decades of criticism, when all I dreamed of was acceptance.
“They made me think they matter, and then they made me feel like I don’t. ”
“Criminal.” He reaches between us and drags my bottom lip free of my teeth—a habit I hardly notice anymore—then leaning in, he kisses the hurt and makes better what my anxiety damages.
“Absolutely criminal. A lioness does not care for the opinion of the dung beetle, Mel. They live entirely different lives, and their views are simply not on the same level. You’re the queen, and they…
” He taps my chin with the pad of his thumb, “They’re vermin. ”
“You should write hallmark cards.” Turning my face, I press a kiss on his wrist. “I sincerely mean that. You have a way with words, Nick, that could turn a hardened woman into a puddle. I’m not sure of your financial security—” Have I established yet if he’s homeless?
Not entirely, “—There’s a lot of money to be made in the romance industry, and you’re leaving it all on the table by not sharing your gifts. ”
His eyes glitter with amusement while his hands come down to tease hazardously close to my ass. “I’ll keep that in mind. I wouldn’t take the advice—business, relationships, or otherwise—of the dung beetle. But I sure as fuck would consider that of the lioness.”
“Melanie?” Startling, I pull away and attempt to turn, except Nick’s grip is absolute, and his inclination to let me go is… well, not happening. So I continue dancing, but I look over my shoulder and gulp when I’m met with my boss’ stare.
Because, of course, he’s here.
Birds of a feather and all that.
“Mr. Manson.” I clear my throat and half-turn to give him my attention. “Sir. Hello.”
“A word, please?” He curls his finger in summons. His eyes a striking brown that sends chills to the base of my stomach. “In private.”
“Um… Of course.” I peek back at Nick, my heart skittering too fast and the color draining from my face. But at least he loosens his grip and allows me space. “Sorry. I have to—”
“It’s alright.” He kisses my cheek and uses the opportunity to whisper, “Want me to kick his ass?”
He wants me to laugh. To relax. He wants me to be a friggin’ lioness. But all he gets is a worrying shade of green filling my cheeks and to watch my hand drop to my stomach. Because this is bad. It feels bad. “No. I’ll…” I frown and take a step back. “I’ll come find you when I’m done.”
“I’ll get us something to drink.” He looks to Manson and tips his chin, then lowering his hands and digging them into his pockets, he frees me.
The little bird whose cage is opened.
“In the hall, if you don’t mind, Ms. Hamilton.”
Oh God. Kill me now.