Chapter 16
Lark
Remember to buy batteries. For everything. Especially the twinkly lights. And also, for my vibrator.
—From Lark’s Christmas to-do list
Oh God, oh no. No, no, no. What is my fiancé doing here?
I pivot and head for the connecting door between our offices.
Thanks to the glass wall between our offices, my boss can see everything unfolding, but there’s nothing I can do about it.
I shut the door between our offices and try to ignore the fact that my boss is watching my reunion with my fiancé. Which is easier said than done.
Because this is Brody we’re talking about. I’m only too keenly aware of his gaze following me.
Keith is standing at the window looking out.
He turns as I approach. His dirty blond hair is artfully mussed. He’s tall enough to look down on my five feet four inches. Not as tall as Brody. Or as broad. And his eyes aren’t as piercing. And… Argh. Stop it. This is not a competition.
"Larkie." He half smiles. "There you are."
I’ve told him so many times not to call me Larkie. I really don’t like it. But he keeps forgetting.
I move toward him with determination.
What does he want? Except for that short phone call and the flowers he sent, I haven’t heard from him at all. And now he turns up, without any advance notice?
“Where have you been? Why haven't you been in touch? And you left all the planning to me.”
“Whoa, whoa, slow down, will ya?” He half-laughs.
“I will not.” I come to a stop, leaving enough distance between us that it’s clear how upset I am with him.
“Do you even take any of this seriously? You’ve missed every appointment and haven’t even given me your guest list? What is going on?” I fume.
Keith doesn’t seem too bothered by my tirade. He stands with his arms loose at his sides, almost at ease.
It’s as if we haven’t spent a month apart. And that his ignoring my calls and messages, and leaving me to shoulder the burden of the wedding planning don’t mean anything.
Because they don’t.
Not to him.
I’ve been so caught up in my new job and preparations for my perfect life as a married woman, I didn’t spot it. Or rather, I subconsciously knew it, but didn’t want to acknowledge it.
I don’t want to accept it.
A shiver ripples through me, an instinctive warning, like my body knows something my mind refuses to see.
I cover up my confusion by aiming another bunch of rapid-fire questions at Keith.
"We have a meeting with the caterer on Monday to finalize details for the lunch at the reception. And now that you’re here, you can help me make the place cards.”
A strange look comes into his eyes. “Lark, I—”
No, no, no. I don’t want him to complete that statement. I don’t want to face whatever is coming next.
I don’t want to concede how uncomfortable it feels to be anywhere near my fiancé. I definitely don’t want to acknowledge how deeply wrong it feels to have my fiancé here in my office with me. With my hot boss watching.
I can’t bear to accept that the perfect life I’ve been planning for myself is about to collapse.
So, I default to what I’m most comfortable with when I’m panicking. My checklist mode.
I push through with the other things on my wedding planning list where I need his input.
“Oh, I need you to share your RSVP list. And did you get your tux fitted yet? Also, can we go see the Christmas tree lighting at Trafalgar Square? It’s something I do every year."
I attempt a smile, but my face muscles don’t seem to cooperate.
“Lark…” His voice is almost gentle. “I came here because I have something to tell you.”
The combination of sadness and determination on his face makes me pause. Also, why is he sweating?
Another chill of unease crawls down my spine.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I notice the door connecting my office with my boss’s office open.
My boss steps into the room.
I ignore it because I’m more worried about the weird expression on my fiancé’s features. Alarm bells go off in my head. The hair on the nape of my neck rises.
I’m almost not surprised when he looks down at his feet. "I think we should break up."
“What?” My rib cage shrinks in size. I gulp down a few breaths, sure I’m caught up in a nightmare.
He looks up and past me. He must spot my boss, for his forehead wrinkles. “I…" He looks back at me, lowering his voice. "I don’t think you and I are good together. I think this marriage is a mistake.” He squares his shoulders.
His stance tells me he believes what he’s saying.
“What? No. You can’t break up with me.” I’m aware of my voice rising. And that I’m almost yelling. And my boss is watching. I flush with embarrassment. But the concern about the bomb that has gone off in my life and destroyed all my carefully laid plans takes precedence over anything else.
“I’m sorry.” He runs a finger under the collar of his shirt. “Truly, Lark.”
I look at him closely, but he doesn’t meet my eyes. In fact, there’s a guilty expression on his face.
I stiffen. “Is there…someone else?”
He straightens his spine but continues to look away. “What makes you say that?” He risks a glance in my direction, but his gaze skitters away.
The band around my chest tightens. A cold sense of certainty grips me. “There is someone else.”
Keith opens his mouth. I throw up my hands. “Don’t bother trying to deny it; your guilt is written all over your face.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, then nods. “I’m so sorry, Lark.”
My heart sinks into my stomach.
“Who is she?” I burst out.
“What?” His eyes round in surprise.
“The woman you cheated on me with, who is she?”
“Lark, come on.” He laughs nervously. “Surely, you don’t want to know that.”
“Oh, I very much do.” I plant my fists on my hips. “It’s the least you owe me, after breaking off the wedding at the last minute.”
He sighs, then throws up his hands. “If you must know, it’s Tiffany.”
I reel back. "T…Tiffany? My bridesmaid, Tiffany?"
He nods.
Oh shit.
"It…just happened. It wasn’t intentional," he mumbles.
What the hell? That’s his excuse? “So, your penis accidentally fell into her vagina?” I huff.
He reddens. “Lark, come on, don’t be a bitch about it.”
“I’m being a bitch?” I gape at him. "How did I become the villain in this piece? You’re the one cheating on me.”
“And that’s why I’m breaking up with you. I didn’t think it would be fair to go through with the wedding since… You know…” He shrugs.
“Well, thank you so much for being so considerate.” I rub at my forehead.
A headache begins to drum behind my eyes.
"How…how long?" I finally ask. I’m not sure why I want to know, but something pushes me to find out.
He looks at the door leading out of my office, then sighs again. "Six months," he blurts out.
"Six. Months?" My head spins. "Right after you proposed to me?"
How could I not have known? How could I have missed the signs? Am I such a loser that I couldn’t see that my own fiancé was cheating on me?
“How could you do this to me?” I whisper.
“How can you say that, when you never wanted to sleep with me,” he says in an accusing tone.
I recoil.
“It’s why I had to look elsewhere to satisfy my needs.”
I gape at him. I can’t believe he’s blaming me for his having cheated on me. I try to speak, but I’m so shocked, the words don’t materialize.
He sets his jaw. "I felt constrained. Like I had a noose around my neck. I needed to reclaim my freedom."
I finally find my voice. "Freedom? You wanted to reclaim your freedom?
" I shake my head. "You're the one who proposed to me!
I'm not the one who suggested we get married!
" I feel myself growing hysterical. "No wonder you weren’t involved in the wedding preparations. And began to travel even more. And didn’t keep in touch.
I kept making excuses for you. Thinking it was work. "
"It was work. All those business trips were real. I closed a real estate deal. One that's going to net me a great bonus."
I set my jaw. "You waited until the last minute before you decided to call off the wedding.”
It’s only two weeks to the wedding.
My heart sinks as the repercussions dawn on me.
“My friends have confirmed they're coming. My parents are flying out from California to attend the wedding. How could you do this to me?”
I cringe when I hear my words. I sound so desperate.
"Listen, Larkie. I'm sor—"
"Don't call me that," I snap.
He looks like he's about to respond, but I give him a quelling look, and he subsides.
This whole time—while he was away, and while I ignored my misgivings that he wasn’t an active participant in our wedding plans—I was holding onto the fact that he loved me. That once we were married, everything would turn out okay.
That I’d have my perfect life: the perfect job, the perfect husband, and the Happily Ever After I've always wanted.
Now, everything has gone wrong.
The blood drains from my face. "Oh God. What am I going to tell them?"
I feel like a living cliché. Instead of the life I planned for myself, I’ll forever be known as the woman who was ditched before the wedding. My head spins. My chest hurts. My knees tremble. I wish I could sink through the floor.
That’s when my boss closes the distance to me and wraps his arm around my waist.