Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Gage
My fingers roll over the black stone beads on the bracelet that’s been on my left wrist for almost seven years.
I glance down at it.
It’s a part of me now. I can’t picture my arm without it.
A tap on my shoulder draws my gaze back to a guy in a black T-shirt, dark jeans and a shaved head. “You’re loitering. You need to get lost.”
“You don’t own the sidewalk,” I point out. “I’m waiting for someone.”
“Your bride?” He questions as he lights a cigarette he pulled out of his back pocket. “You haven’t taken your eyes off the wedding dress shop since you parked your ass here.”
Technically, it’s my feet that are parked in this spot.
I’m leaning against a lamppost outside of a record store.
Who the fuck knew that records were still so popular? He’s had a steady stream of customers since he unlocked the door thirty minutes ago.
“Are your feet cold?” The guy asks with a laugh.
I look down at my shoes. They’re black leather oxfords that paired well with the dark jeans and white dress shirt I’m wearing.
I rolled the sleeves of the shirt up to my elbows because it’s hot as hell out.
I’m trying to make a good impression, although Katie never gave a shit about what was on my back.
Your heart is the most beautiful in the world, Gage.
Her words, not mine.
She said them for the last time five years ago. I doubt they’ll ever leave her lips again.
“You’re not the first guy to hang out here because of a case of cold feet.” He taps the cigarette sending the ash to the sidewalk. “I always tell guys like you the same thing.”
He has no idea what kind of man I am, but I listen because his voice is better than silence right now.
I spent all night in the darkness of my apartment replaying the day I broke Katie’s heart.
His hand brushes my shoulder as he points across the street at Katie’s boutique. “If you need to take a breather here, you don’t belong over there.”
“I’m not getting married,” I say with a quick glance in his direction.
“Wise man.” He drops the cigarette, smashing the toe of his black boot onto it.
I’m a wiser man now than I was five years ago.
My gaze wanders to a beautiful blonde in a light blue dress headed toward the boutique. Her hair is loose. The gentle waves are bouncing around her shoulders.
She’s as breathtaking this morning as she was the first time I saw her on the campus at UCLA.
“Katie,” I say her name under my breath as my fingers play over my bracelet.
“My break is over.” The guy from the record store pats my back. “Good luck, man.”
I don’t need luck. I need forgiveness.
By the time I’m at the door of the boutique, Katie’s inside.
I peer through the glass and watch her talking to a woman wearing a wedding dress.
From my view of Katie’s profile, I can see the smile on her face. I’ve never forgotten that smile.
The left side of her mouth inches up slightly higher than the right when she’s grinning ear-to-ear.
I used to do everything in my power to earn a smile like that from her.
“Excuse me.” A woman brushes past me on her way into the store.
I follow on her heel, hoping to hell that Katie won’t glance over, spot me, and take off in a sprint to a place I can’t reach her.
“You’re beaming,” Katie reaches for the hand of the woman in the wedding gown. “Your grandmother’s veil is going to look perfect with this gown.”
Her voice is just as I remember it. It’s soft and soothing. She used to read aloud in bed before we’d fall asleep. It was mostly poetry, words written by others that captured what was in her heart.
The last gift I ever gave her was a book inscribed to her by her favorite poet.
She was at a loss for words when she ripped the gift open. The only thing I had to wrap the book in was newspaper I found in the hallway outside our apartment and a pink ribbon tucked in one of her dresser drawers.
“This is beautiful,” she said at the time.
It was the effort I put in that was beautiful to her, not the day old newspaper or the fraying ribbon.
“What do you think?” The bride-to-be’s gaze shifts from Katie to me. “I’d love a man’s honest opinion on this gown.”
She spins in a circle as Katie turns to face me.
The smile on her face flees as quickly as the pain in her eyes appears.
“Katie,” I say her name not thinking about what comes next.
“What do you think?” The woman in the dress repeats. “Will my fiancé think I’m the most beautiful woman in the world when he sees me walk down the aisle in this?”
I ignore her as I stare into the face of the woman who promised her heart to me on her twenty-first birthday when I dropped to one knee and asked her to spend her life with me.
“I’m sorry, Katie,” I say what I’ve held inside since I told her that I couldn’t marry her.
Her gaze falls to my mouth before she locks eyes with me. Her voice comes out in a whisper. “You should go.”
I should. I’m a fucking asshole for waltzing in here and blurting out the words that should have left my mouth years ago. I could have kept them inside until we weren’t next to a stranger and surrounded by hundreds of wedding gowns.
I nod. “I’ll go.”
She turns on her heel and I leave her store knowing that a weak apology can never make up for the devastation I’ve caused.
I hope to hell I can find a way to explain what tore me away from the life we had planned together.