Chapter 18
Lark
I glance out the window of my apartment. It’s dark and drizzling outside. The weather mirrors my morose mood.
Since that debacle yesterday, I’ve barely slept.
Last night I tossed and turned, unable to close my eyes for more than a few minutes at a time. When I could, I was besieged by images of Brody comforting me and telling me I was smart and beautiful.
At work today, Brody was all business. We sat through meetings together, but he was completely professional. No glance or gesture from him hinted that he’d sprung that insane proposal on me.
Worse, he looked even more devastating than usual. In that form-fitting suit, and with that sharp, focused gaze, he was every inch the billionaire CEO. Meanwhile, I felt like a wilted piece of lettuce.
I stayed late at the office, and by the time I packed up, even Brody had left. When I got back to my flat, I showered, too tired to even pour myself a glass of wine or think about food, and crawled into bed.
After an hour of tossing and turning, I gave up. I can’t put it off any longer. People need to know the wedding’s off.
I’m not getting married in a week.
Except…I could.
If…I agreed to my boss’s proposal. Nah, that’s not happening.
His suggestion took me completely by surprise. No way, can I swap out my cheating ex as the bridegroom with my smokin’ hot, sex-on-a-stick boss, right?
He’s insane for suggesting it. I’m delusional for even entertaining it. It makes no sense. None. Zero.
But…what if I did? I swallow.
What if I said yes, married my boss, and somehow, pulled off the most ridiculous plot twist of my life? Then what?
Could I live happily ever after, with a man I barely know? Then again, I thought I knew my ex. Turns out, I was dead wrong.
As for Brody…I can't deny I’m attracted to him. Violently, embarrassingly so. Way more than I ever was to my douche of a fiancé. But marrying him instead of my ex? That’s soap-opera-level far-fetched.
Nope. It’s not happening. I have to face reality. The wedding’s off. I need to start damage control. I must email my friends, tell my parents, cancel everything. Ugh. The thought of it feels like trying to untangle a mess of tinsel. Painful. Frustrating.
But the sooner I start, the sooner I can pretend my life isn’t a glittery disaster zone.
Fine. Fine.
I pick up my phone, pull up my mother’s number on the screen, poise my finger over the call button… But I can’t bring myself to press dial. Damn.
My mother will be so disappointed. They think I'm doing so well in life. That all their hard work in bringing me up is paying off. They’re looking forward to visiting London too.
It’s not even midnight yet, so I decide to call Raya instead.
“Hey, Sis.” Her face appears on the screen.
In the background, I hear the beat of techno music and see the flash of strobe lights.
“Are you at a club?”
“What?” she yells back. “I can’t hear you.”
I raise my voice. “Where are you?”
“Hold on.” There’s a muffled conversation as she talks to someone, some giggling, then the image goes wonky, as she walks through the club.
The sound of music fades. When she holds up the phone again, the light is dimmer. She must have stepped out.
“Sorry the music inside the club was too loud.” She sounds breathless. “Why did you call? Is everything okay?”
“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” The lie comes out so easily, I don’t have to think about it twice.
I have to tell her the wedding is off.
I steel myself, open my mouth, but no words come out. Damn, why is this so difficult? Tell her already. The words remain stuck in my throat like it’s coated with glue.
“How are the wedding preparations? Hopefully, Keith finally called you back and you’ve sorted the last-minute details?”
Yep. All sorted. I was jilted by my cheating loser ex. Ugh. That should be the name of a rom-com. Only, it’s too pathetic for it to ever be the title of one.
Why is this so difficult?
I open my mouth again, but what comes out is: “Uh, yes, I did connect with him. And everything worked out.”
Not really. But it might. If I could make up my mind.
“O-k-a-y.” She searches my features. “So why do you seem so stressed?”
She’s too perceptive. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to call her.
I paste on a smile. “Uh, you know, it’s coming up to the wedding. And I’m realizing it’s going to be such a big life change. And our parents are flying down. I love that, of course, but—”
“Mom can be a handful. I know. But don’t worry. I’ll be there to manage them and take the heat off you.”
I feel terrible for not being able to tell Raya the truth. And when she’s being so sweet.
“You’re an amazing sister,” I say softly.
“Of course. I need to make up for all the times I was an annoying brat and made your life hell, right?” She sticks her tongue out at me.
I roll my eyes. “Why do you constantly act like you're five when we speak?”
“Because you constantly sound so grown-up. Someone has to lighten the tone, otherwise I worry it’ll catch, and I’ll be forced to grow up before my time.”
I chuckle. “Brat.”
She grins. “So, you’re good, right?” She peers into the screen.
I can hear the concern in her voice.
“Of course. I’m good.” I flash her a more genuine smile. “Are you coming for the bridesmaid’s dress fittings later this week? Harper will be there too.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Someone calls her off screen.
“Gotta go, Sis.” She disconnects the call.
I lower my phone. That was difficult. And I didn’t even tell her the real reason why I called.
And no way, can I dial my mom’s phone number to give her the news.
As for Harper, well… She’s my BFF, but I’m not ready to be emotionally vulnerable with her either.
Or maybe, I’m too proud to admit I’m flailing?
Why is it so much easier to resolve someone else’s mess than face my own?
If I continue to portray the illusion that I have my life together, then I won’t have to face the fact that it’s currently held together by caffeine, spreadsheets, and sheer denial.
I’ve built an entire persona around looking like I know what I’m doing, that I know where I’m going, and that I have everything under control. Can’t drop the act now, can I?
Thank God for the extreme busyness of my job. At least, I’m in control there. Unlike in my personal life.
‘Course, I could email everyone.
The thought of it makes my skin shrivel. And my stomach lurch. And bile coats my tongue.
I stare at my phone like it’s going to turn into a monster and swallow me up. Oh God. This is horrible.
I toss the device aside, and switch on the TV. I click through different viewing options; nothing holds my attention.
I switch it off and stare at the blank screen.
It’s official. I’m not getting married within the week. And I don’t have the guts to break the news to anyone.
Every day I don’t call off the wedding, it’s going to get harder to do so. And I’ll be giving less notice that it’s off.
So, what are you going to do?
M-a-y-b-e… I could consider Brody’s proposal?
The thought makes my stomach twist. I freeze, my heart pounding so hard it drowns out reason. Am I seriously entertaining this? Have I completely lost it? But then again, can I really afford not to? I’m out of options. Completely cornered.
It sounds absurd, but the date is set. The invitations have gone out. Everyone’s expecting a wedding. My wedding. And if I don’t go through with it, I don’t even know who I am anymore.
So much of my pride and sense of control is tied to walking down that aisle, it makes me dizzy to think it might not happen.
It feels vital to my happiness, my identity, my very life, that I get married on the date and time everyone’s expecting.
What if I go to the wedding and act surprised when Keith doesn't show up?
No! That's worse. The thought of standing there, all eyes on me, whispers spreading through the crowd, is unbearable. I need a bridegroom. Any bridegroom would be better than no bridegroom.
And how do I explain that I’m not marrying that loser ex of mine, but my hot, brooding, growly, alpha male of a boss instead?
I’ll think something up. It’ll be easier explaining that to my friends and family than breaking the news that there's no wedding. Right?
And love? I swallow around the ball of emotion in my throat. What about love? How do I reconcile my wanting to be in love and have the perfect marriage versus this arrangement I’m contemplating with my boss?
And when I agreed to marry Keith. Was that love? Well, I thought I was in love. But I’m not exactly heartbroken that I’m not marrying him.
I’m kinda relieved, if I'm being honest. Aside from the fact that I’ll be at the receiving end of people’s pitying glances, and the knowledge that my life plan will be knocked askew if the marriage doesn't go ahead.
Maybe, I could get my life plan back on track first, and then think about love?
Without giving myself time to think, I message Brody.
Me: Can we talk?
He replies, almost instantly.
Bossman: Tomorrow, 6 p.m.