Chapter 14 Melanie
FOURTEEN
MELANIE
Be brave, little bird.
Be bold.
I stare out at the three-hundred-something wedding guests who mingle and chatter, laugh and talk shit, but when I smack the microphone to my palm so the thud echoes throughout the ballroom, I’m greeted with countless watchful gazes and only a handful of them turn pale.
The rest, of course, want to be entertained.
“Most of you know me,” I start, my voice shaky and my vision blurring from tears. God, I hate that I cry when I’m mad. “Those who don’t, I’m certain, know of me. I was Drew’s fiancée once upon a time.”
I scan the crowd and stop on a wide-eyed Karla, huddled within her little posse of gossiping bitches.
“The stories you’ve heard paint me as a pretty horrible person.
Drew and Karla are extremely kind, generous, thoughtful people, and I’m honestly, truly honored they included me in their celebrations today.
Drew’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Taggart, are selfless for allowing me to come and even providing a plate for me and my date.
” I search the crowd again until I find Nick.
His dark-as-night eyes and a heavy brow casting shadows over them.
So strong. So sure of who he is.
“To my parents.” I gesture toward them, swallowing the choking nerves building in my throat.
“Such amazing, kind-hearted, noble people who did their best to raise an undeserving daughter. And to Karla’s bridesmaids for folding me into their group today, knowing I’d hurt their friends in the past. Oh, and Mr. Manson, my boss.
” I find him, too, and lock eyes with him.
“For allowing me to reach my professional dreams, even when my behavior in the past probably didn’t deserve it.
Or, well…” Finally, I shrug. “That’s what I’m supposed to say, right? ”
Collectively, the crowd gasps.
“In reality, Karla, you back-stabbing, wannabe, two-faced slut. You fucked a practically married man, and you’re so horribly insecure about it that you’d rather make me feel like shit than own up to how shitty you are in your soul.
Your bridesmaids,” I check them off, meeting their eyes before I move to the next, “I’d like to think you’re simply loyal to your friend and unwelcoming of the enemy they made me out to be, but we all know that bitch got caught with her legs wide open.
You were there. My parents?” I look at them, “The only thing you gave me was crippling doubt and a nasty inner-voice that is constantly mean to me. Fuck you very much. Mr. and Mrs. Taggart?” I search for them in the crowd. “Where’d you go?”
“Hey now,” Mr. Taggart admonishes, “that’s enough of that.”
“Yeah, nah. You and your son pocketed the wedding gifts, not me. And then you lied about it, so you didn’t have to give them back.
Shame on you.” I shake my head and smile.
“How embarrassing. Mr. Manson?” I find him next.
“Shame on you for believing the lies slung around freely instead of simply asking me. Or, ya know, trusting me to be a good person when I’ve literally never given you a reason to think otherwise.
And Drew?” I look toward the door I came through.
“Drewwwww, where’d you run to, honey? Oh, that’s right.
” I met Karla’s horrified eyes. “He’s out there where I left him.
He hit on me, by the way, and threw you under the proverbial bus.
But your marriage will be wonderful! Your personalities match in every way. ”
I spin on my heels and offer the microphone back to the stunned drummer, but remembering one last point, I turn back again and lock eyes with Nick.
“My date is not trailer trash. He’s kind and sweet and the actual definition of selfless.
His heart is purer than any I’ve ever known, and when he says something, for the first time in my life, I know I can trust his words as truth.
Which is ironic, really. Considering I paid him to be my date.
” I go back to scanning the crowd, those vile, gossiping, wannabe snobs.
“I was so fucking scared to face you all tonight, terrified of walking into a room knowing you would talk about me. I couldn’t decline my invitation, because then I would be a coward, but I couldn’t come alone either, because then I’d look like a loner and a loser.
So I paid someone. Which,” I scoff, “I have to admit, kind of proves I’m a loner and a loser.
But you know what I did find throughout this shit show? My power.”
I look at Nick again as fresh tears spill from my eyes and dribble over my cheeks.
“I found my self-worth. I found the security and warmth and confidence of knowing I’m allowed to take up space in a room.
These things are a child’s right, a bottom-of-the-barrel, bare-minimum effort owed by parents simply because I existed.
But it took him,” I point his way and hiccup, “it took you, to convince me I was worthy.” I swallow the lump of nerves clogging my throat, but it doesn’t stop my anger from transforming into complete emotional devastation.
“I’m worthy of taking up space, and I shouldn’t be learning this at twenty-nine years old from a man paid to be here.
But that’s the way these things go, I suppose. ”
Heart aching, I drop my eyes and chew on my bottom lip.
But I bring the microphone to my mouth one last time.
“Nicolas Ramos taught me to love myself again. It’s a rocky relationship, one I know I’ll mess up time and time again.
But I’m worth it, I think. I’m worth working on.
So I’m gonna do that for the next little while.
But none of you will see that version of me.
” I bring my eyes up and stop on my parents.
“Don’t call me. Don’t visit. If you see me in the street, pretend I don’t exist, because if I see you…
” I sniffle and wipe my nose, “I won’t acknowledge you.
Not for the rest of my life. But hey,” I glance to my left and scoff when Drew limps into the ballroom.
“You can have him. He’s the son you always wanted, right? ”
I toss the microphone to the drummer, then, picking up my skirts and starting toward the stairs, I head down and blow past my mother when she bustles my way. I shove Drew aside and move through the door, and though I hear Nick’s shouted, “Mel!” I keep going.
Because if I stop, I might crumble. And if I crumble, I mightn’t get up again.
“Hey?” Nick’s feet pound against the floor as he runs to catch up, while on the other side of the hallway wall, chatter and heated arguments explode. Maybe guests are asking for their gifts back. “Princess? Hey!”
I breach the building’s front doors and step into the perfect nighttime breeze, but Nick is fast on his feet—former athlete, of course. He grabs my arm, spinning me so fast, I fear I might go flying if not for his grip and the way he yanks me back.
“What the fuck, Mel?” He laughs. His eyes are beautiful and bright and so, so adoring. “You just set that entire party on fire. But then you went and lit us up, too?” His lips curl higher on one side. “You didn’t have to dox us. I wasn’t gonna say anything.”
“I needed to,” I rasp. “For me. For my healing, I needed to tell them, own it, and still be proud. But don’t worry.
” I reach under my skirt and tug an envelope from my garter.
Pressing it to his chest, I take a step back when he releases me to catch it.
“It’s only two grand, which means it’s not a very fat envelope. But you did great, okay?”
I skip down the stairs and onto lush green grass the groundskeeper nurtures the way a mother—most mothers, but not mine—nurture their babies. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Truly.”
“Wait.” Bounding down the stairs and skidding around to stop in front of me, he grabs my arm again and holds me still. “That’s it? You’re leaving?”
“I have to.” With a shaking hand, I swipe my tears aside. “I need some privacy right now, or I’m gonna lose it. I really, really don’t want to do that here.”
“So I’ll drive you.” He gestures toward the parking lot. “I brought my truck, and we’re heading in the same direction. Climb in, and I’ll take us home.”
“We’re not going in the same direction.” Stop crying. Stop crying. Stop crying. “You’re going somewhere else, and I’m going home.”
“No, I—”
“Please?” A sob wracks through my chest and steals the air from my lungs. “Please, Nick? Let me leave. I want to be alone. I need to be alone.”
“I don’t want you to be alone.” Folding his neck, he rests his forehead on mine. “I can’t walk away, Mel. I can’t leave you like this.”
“I paid you!” Burn another bridge. Do it! It’s easier that way. “Your job is done! You did it really, really fucking well. But now it’s over, and we’re finished.”
“I’m not finished! I have a contract that says—”
“The contract was bullshit! Literal bullshit. It was not legally binding. It will never stand up in court. It was a token of our agreement and a good way for me to feel like I was in control of something for once in my life. But the job is done. Jesus.” I shove away from him and snatch up my skirts so they don’t drag in the moist grass.
God forbid I mess up the taffeta. “You can swing by tomorrow, if you like, to pick up your things. I’ll be in my office with the door closed and music on, and I have a deadline I have to meet. Please don’t knock.”
I glance back for one last look. It’s selfish and self-serving and ultimately, horrifically self-destructing, because I thought I would see that beautiful man who makes my heart skip a beat.
The one who taught me about love, the real, genuine, altruistic kind, for the first time in my life.
I thought I would get one last peek at the devilishly sexy Nicolas Ramos.
Instead, I’m treated to a man broken. Eyes that are usually so strong and sure, shattered and sad.
Broad shoulders that could have, in another lifetime, carried his family to football glory, but now they fold in and make him look smaller.
A chest I love, with my whole heart and soul, to rest against, pounding and racing, in search of air.
I thought I would see strong.
Instead, I witness, again, the damage my existence causes.
“I’m sorry.” Tears spill over and blur my vision.
A small mercy, really. But I catch the telltale yellow of cabs on the street, just waiting to take Cinderella home.
“I’m learning to take up space again. But for this,” I point between him and me, “for the hurt I’ve caused, I wish I occupied none at all.
Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.
” I swallow and choke down the tears bubbling in my throat.
“Thank you for sharing your family and showing me what real love could look like.”
“Stay with me, Princess.” He doesn’t charge forward, which is something two-weeks-ago-Nicolas would absolutely do. Another ding I’m responsible for. Damage I’ve caused to a perfectly amazing man. “I’m asking you to stay,” he rasps. “We had a deal, and I’m not ready to let that go yet.”
“Thank you for teaching me to love myself again. I’m not there yet,” I amend, coughing to clear my throat. “But I have direction now, and because of you, I know what it looks like. So when I find it, I’ll know. I’ll think of you.”
“Mel—”
“Say it once more?” I drop the fabric of my dress so the ends sit in the grass, and my heart pounds between us. My gift to him, perhaps. Or to me. I’m not sure. “Since you speak of the contract,” I try to joke. “Say it one more time. It might be the last I hear for a while.”
His eyes flicker between mine, long sweeps and an adoring gaze.
But he tucks his hands into his pockets and nods, licking his lips so I follow the movement and wish it was my lips.
My tongue. “I love you, Princess.” He closes his mouth again, his jaw clenching and visible under the moonlight.
“More importantly: you deserve to be loved.”