Chapter 38
Harper
A few dayslater I’m upstairs, looking to get some old boxes out of the closet to see if I can find where I put a shirt I wanted to wear but couldn’t find. To look for it though I had to wander up to the old master bedroom closet and I hate coming up here. Alex, who’s downstairs finishing up an interview over the phone had offered to come up with me if I could wait until he was off the phone, but I just wanted to get it out of the way.
Looking around this house, really stopping to look instead of just getting through my daily tasks, work and sleep, gives me the hives. It reminds me of all the years I wasted on a man who probably never even really loved me. All the time I could have spent doing better things with my life, spending time with people who actually cared about me. But instead, I’d put on holiday dinners and birthday parties for him, decorated this house, and made plans for our future.
Now I’m slowly dismantling everything, trying to get it ready to sell because that day is coming sooner rather than later. I really needed to double down on looking for an apartment and finding a place close to work. It’s just without knowing if the levy is going to pass and how much longer I’ll have a job, I don’t know how wise it is to sign a lease.
This is why I tried not to stop and think too long. Because the second I do, I remember all the things I have to worry about right now.
I shake my head, trying to clear it because thinking about all of that isn’t going to change the past or the future. I pass through the master bathroom to my old walk-in closet and grab one of the last few boxes that’s left in there. I’ve been living downstairs in the guest bedroom since Drew took the rest of the furniture and it meant that I could mostly close off the upstairs portion of the house. Living in the house differently than I had before at least let me pretend it was a different place and let me avoid most of the memories our old bedroom and closets held. Except, as I’m grabbing the box my eyes catch on one of the things I’d left here, still neatly tucked in the dry-cleaning bag like the day I brought it home—my wedding dress.
I remember the stupid amount of time and energy I put into picking it out, hoping Drew would like it, hoping that it would bring me good luck. I had been so fucking naive. I rip it off the rack and stare at it. I want to throw it in the ocean. Maybe burn it on a bonfire out back. Watching it burn might be cathartic, give me some semblance of closure on this whole thing. But I can’t bring myself to do it, because all of those would be shit for the environment and the better thing would be to see about donating it to someone who needs one. Maybe they’d have better luck in it than I did.
Besides, it wasn’t cheap and it’s still in perfect condition, and only a few years old. Might be a style someone could still use. I don’t know any soon-to-be brides but it’s possible I know someone who does, and a consignment or donation center may want it.
As I step out of the closet and into the bathroom, my eyes fall to the counter, the place where I first saw Drew’s phone lighting up with text messages from her when he’d forgotten it one morning. This whole upstairs is a museum of bad memories, everywhere I turn is another exhibit of failure. But luckily, it’s almost empty and I’m almost out of here. The sooner I get the boxes and memories like this dress out of here, the better. Which reminds me Drew is stopping by sometime soon to pick up some of the things he didn’t take in the first round, except I need to find out what time.
Drew had texted me several times this week, wanting to talk and meet up at the house and I’d managed to dodge him. I don’t know what his sudden interest is in rekindling a friendship, other than the obvious—that he just wants to know if anything is going on with Alex. Because Drew certainly didn’t care about being friends post-divorce until he showed up. I’d avoided saying no outright because I didn’t want to argue or create friction for Alex, but I’d done my best to make it clear I was brushing him off.
Then he’d texted to say he needed things out of the garage and basement. Which again, seemed like a manufactured reason given he’d done without those things for months. But I couldn’t begrudge the man his belongings in his own home, and I’m happy for him to take the rest of his things. Each box he takes is one less thing for me to move or prep for when the house goes on the market. He could take almost all of it as far as I’m concerned.
I’d already given back my engagement ring, one that was a family heirloom that belonged to his mother and grandmother before her. He said he wanted it in case he got remarried, which seems like something a future wife wouldn’t love but I suppose it’s none of my business. Maybe he wants the dress too in case things with one mistress or the other have progressed. She can have a matching set and he can just take back up where he left off with someone else in the role.
That thought hits me like a form of grotesque amusement, and I start laughing and crying all at once. I don’t even know which one it is at this point. Another laughing sob escapes me and I double over. I must be loud because Alex, who’s finally off his call is standing in the doorway watching me. There’s a war of emotions on his face as he takes me in alongside the dress I’m holding, and his eyes soften as he sees me struggling to compose myself again.
“I’m sorry. I just—” I have to pause to draw in a breath. “I was trying to figure out what to do with this, and then I was thinking… do you think he wants the dress back to go with the ring? The future wife could have a matching set.”
Alex’s brows raise, his lips twisting in a mocking grin before he closes the distance between us and kisses my forehead. I lean into him.
“I’m not upset about him or the dress. I know it looks that way, but it just reminds me of how much time I wasted with him. Time that could have been better spent, and I just… I’m furious about that part still.”
“You’re allowed to be upset, Saint. He hurt you and you didn’t deserve it.”
“This is where I found out too. He left his phone in here on accident one morning. He’d gotten in late the night before and then had to leave early, to meet you oddly enough, and he forgot it. I came in here to get ready for work and his phone was lighting up with messages, so I picked it up. Thinking maybe it was you and I’d let you know he was on the way. But it was just one sext after another. About how good he felt and how much she wanted him to fuck her again tonight. Then I had to go to work and give a lecture on Victorian fashion to a group of women from the active seniors” group.” A tight little smile crosses my lips at the memory of that day.
I couldn’t remember anything that hurt quite like realizing you’ve been betrayed by the person you thought you could trust more than anyone, the one you sleep next to every night and do all the mundane bits of life with like paying bills and mowing the lawn. Then you just have to go to work and act like it’s any other day of the week.
“I wish I’d known, Saint. I would have punched him for you the second he walked in the door that day.”
An unexpected laugh pops out of my mouth at the thought of that. “I wish you had. He definitely deserved it.”
“I can still figure out a way to work it in if you need me to.”
I shake my head at him, swiping at the tears on my cheek. “I think I’m good. Now I just have to figure out what to do with this dress. I guess I should donate it, even though I really want to burn it.”
“Don’t burn it. You looked fucking amazing in it.”
“Oh please. Like you even remember what it looks like.”
“I remember,” he says defensively.
I slide the bag behind my back. “Describe it to me then.”
“It was kind of plain, white, simple but it fit you perfectly. Came in at the waist and then had one of those big skirts to it.”
“You’ve described every wedding dress in history. Congrats.” I give him a playful grin.
“Fine.” He takes a step closer to me, closing the distance, his hand slipping under my chin. “It had straps and a pretty deep V. Not enough to be indecent, but when you had to lean over, like cutting the cake, it came to about here.” He traces a line over the tops of my breasts. “You had on a necklace too, with a sapphire on it I think, and it dangled just above. Kept catching the light and making me wish… well I’m sure you can guess.” He grins at me.
“Again… still describing most wedding dresses in existence but A for effort.”
“Wait.” His eyes flash up to the ceiling and then back at me, a devious smile floating over his lips. “There’s twelve buttons down the back.”
“Twelve?” I ask suspiciously because I don’t even remember how many buttons there were.
“Check. You’ll see.”
I pull the dress around again, unzipping the bag and counting the buttons. Sure enough there’s twelve of them. I look up at him, frowning because there must be some secret way he knows this.
“What is this like all formal gowns have an average of twelve and you’ve gotten enough women out of them that you know, or what? How did you guess that well?”
“It’s not a guess. I counted them. At the reception. I remember because when I started getting drunk, I started calling them by the months in my head. The last one was December. Want to know why?” A ghost of a smirk plays over his lips.
“Because that’s the twelfth month?” I manage to find words despite the fact my jaw is practically on the floor.
“Because it was the last one and then I could finally unwrap you. In my drunken head, it was clever as fuck. Trust me.”
I stare at him, trying to figure out who this man was and how I knew so little about him. I raise an eyebrow when he grins.
“I was the worst best man in history, but if you’d gotten cold feet and wanted out, I would have made an excellent fucking getaway driver. Just depends on the perspective, you know.” He leans forward then and kisses me, softly at first and then with rougher strokes of his lips and tongue.
“Alex…” I say softly when he pulls away to let us catch our breath. I need more of him. The way he makes me forget everything but him.
He smirks when he sees my expression and then his lips run their way down my throat. I drop the bag holding the dress in the tub so I can run my fingers under his shirt, seeking the warmth of his skin against my palms.
“Because all I thought about when I watched you stand there saying your vows was if I could talk you out of it. If I could convince you—what vows I might be able to get you to say instead. If it’d be good enough to talk you out of finishing his.”
“Good enough?” I ask softly, my fingers still searching his skin as he talks.
“Then at the reception, I was still thinking about you. If I could undo those buttons fast enough, or I could pull that dress up around your hips and get on my knees, kiss this perfect fucking pussy and make you see reason. Make you leave him and pick me instead. Get you a quick annulment.” His hand slides between my legs, running his fingers over me through the fabric.
“What?” The word slips out on a sigh as I try to make sense of what he’s saying.
“Yeah. There was a secondary plan too. Steal you away, take you on that honeymoon I paid for, and—”
“Wait. Wait. What are you talking about?” My hand goes to his chest to pause him because I need to think. I need to process what he’s just said. All of it—any of it.
“That was my wedding present to you. He didn’t tell you? It wasn’t that hike, that saint’s walk you told me you wanted to do that first night. I knew he wouldn’t do that. But it was at least some of the cathedrals and museums you wanted to see.”
He nips at my lower lip and he’s so focused on kissing me that it’s distracting. I reach up and touch the side of his jaw with my hand, and he looks at me.
“I’m sorry… You’re saying you fantasized about fucking me at my wedding and then paid for my honeymoon?”
His eyes drift over my face for a minute before he speaks again.
“I paid for the honeymoon first. As a wedding present. I wanted to make sure you got to see some of that stuff you wanted to, and I didn’t think he’d be smart enough to do it. I also thought it would get my head on fucking straight when it came to you. Help me move on. Except then at the wedding…” He shrugs and his eyes lift to the ceiling. “I don’t know. I’m a fucking bastard, I guess. I was good though, yeah? I didn’t act on any of it.”
“I wish you had.”
“Had what?”
“I wish you would have told me. I was nervous that day. I had cold feet and just like a gut intuition that something wasn’t right. But then I kept thinking no, it’s just a big life decision and I’m nervous because of that. If you’d just said something, anything… You had to pick that day to be the good guy?” I glance up at him.
“Yeah. I fucked up. But we can fix it now.”
I stand up on my toes so I can kiss him on the lips again, and he presses a soft kiss back before he runs his thumb over my lips. His eyes study my face for a moment and then his free hand slides down my body.
“Take these off and turn around.” He tugs at the jeans I have on, and I feel my pulse in my throat.
“What?”
“Do it. Now. You’re lucky I don’t make you put the dress on first.”
I look at him stunned, but he just raises his brow a little higher in response.
I do as he asks, and I hear him behind me, the sound of a zipper and a condom wrapper being ripped open. When his attention returns to me, he runs his fingers up my sides and slides his hand up the column of my throat, kissing the side of my jaw.
“Look at me, Saint.” My eyes meet his in the mirror and he gives me a heart-stopping grin. “You picked the wrong guy. And I’m fucking sorry he hurt you. I’m sorry I let him. That I didn’t fix this all sooner. But we’re gonna fix it now. Every fucking bad memory you have. You hear me?”
I nod and close my eyes as he kisses the side of my neck down to my shoulder, and then he takes the hem of my shirt and lifts it over my head, tossing it to the side before he undoes my bra, adding it to the pile next to it.