Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
OPHELIA
Layla returns with a tray of champagne flutes and hands one to each of us. Atlas begrudgingly accepts the glass. I take one—because why not? I might as well get drunk enough to forget this day ever happened.
We clink our glasses together and drink.
My dad is marrying Mom’s best friend. I repeat the words in my head several times as I down the champagne in one gulp.
I’m so angry with my father that I see red.
Black dots swim across my eyes, making it harder to see.
My chest hurts, and I don’t understand why.
Everything hurts.
My head spins.
I see more dots.
Atlas wraps his fingers around my wrist. “Ophelia.”
I hear him.
See him.
I blink.
His long fingers brush my skin. “If you squeeze any tighter, you’ll shatter the glass.”
My eyes lower to our joined hands, and I see what he means. The color is drained from my right hand.
Fuck.
Get it together, O.
“Are you okay?” Atlas peels the flute from my hand. “You look like you’re about to explode.”
“Huh?” I blink a few times and focus on his eyes, which calms down my racing heart. “I’m fine.”
Athena is busy talking to Layla about the wedding and sharing her plans. I could give a rat’s ass about the details of her special day.
“You don’t look fine.” Atlas sets our glasses on the table and guides me toward a plush couch. He forces me to sit and drops to the cushion beside me. “Take a deep breath, Ophelia.”
I stare.
Blink.
Breathe.
“One more,” he says in a calm tone. “Breathe through your nose, hold it for a few seconds, and blow it out through your mouth.”
My vision is still slightly blurred. And my heart feels like it’s about to crash through my chest. The last few minutes are a blur. After I toasted my father’s upcoming nuptials, I went somewhere else.
Did I black out?
“I have everything ready for you,” Layla says. “You’re in room number three.”
I keep my head down and focus on my breathing.
“We’ll find it ourselves,” Atlas tells her. “Give us a minute.”
“Sure thing,” Layla lilts.
“Is everything okay?” Athena asks with a hint of concern in her tone. “You don’t look well, sweetie.”
I used to like it when she called me that. It sounded cute coming from Auntie Athena. But now, her nickname churns the food in my stomach, and I want to vomit.
“Yeah, Ma. We’re fine,” Atlas answers for me. “Ophelia just needs a minute, okay?”
Athena nods, lips pressed together, then follows Layla to her dressing room. We sit silently for a minute, with me breathing and Atlas chewing on his bottom lip. He’s not good at filling the silence, and I don’t mind that he’s shy.
I think it’s cute.
Layla is busy with Athena, who I hear talking loudly about how this is her second wedding and wants it to be perfect.
“I’m ready,” I say after a few minutes. “Let’s get this over with.”
Atlas shocks me by grabbing my hand and guiding me to Room 3.
Inside, a handful of dresses are hanging on a rack.
I enter the dressing room and stare at the beautiful gowns.
It’s an early fall wedding, and the weather is still nice.
So Athena chose various shades of peach, mauve, cabernet, and dusty rose.
“Take your pick,” Athena says from her room at the end of the hallway. “Whatever color you prefer, Ophelia.”
I like darker colors—anything that conceals more of my curves and makes my waistline look slimmer. After eyeing them up, I’m confident the cabernet dress will win.
“I’ll wait over there.” Atlas points at an armchair to my left. “If you start to have another panic attack, say my name.”
“I didn’t have a panic attack.”
“I’ve seen Apollo have plenty of them,” he admits. “You were having one.” His hand touches my back, and at first, I jump. He continues rubbing my back, and I let him. “I know this is hard for you. But it’s going to be okay.”
“Do you want our parents to get married?”
He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter what I want. My mom is happy with Belen.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “I haven’t seen my dad smile in over a year. Not since before my mom got the cancer diagnosis.”
“This wedding isn’t about us.” He rubs more soothing circles on my back, gazing into my eyes like he wants to kiss me. “We’re going to be a family whether we like it or not.”
A quick moment passes between us, and as if he realizes this is getting too intense, he lowers his hand. Then he steps back a few inches until his back almost touches the wall. We have plenty of distance between us now.
Atlas sits in the armchair and sets the leather sketchbook on his lap. He flips open to a new page and grabs the charcoal pencil from behind his ear.
His hands are never idle.
As I close the door, I miss his body heat. I want those inked hands on my body again, and I hate myself for how much I crave him.
I try to forget about Atlas and strip out of my clothes, setting aside the jeans and blouse on the bench.
The first two dresses are okay but not flattering.
Peach is a definite no and goes in the pass pile.
Dusty rose is another no and looks nearly see-through on my stomach.
Even if they were darker colors, my cleavage falls out of the low-cut tops.
What is Athena thinking?
I got my boobs from my mom. It’s not like she doesn’t know the women in my family have big breasts. The dark mauve is pretty, and so is the cabernet. I know those will be my favorites. Most of my clothes are darker colors.
I slip into the mauve dress first, then the cabernet. Atlas was right about this wedding not being about us. Even if we don’t like it, our parents are happy. And if my mom wanted them to be together after her death, then who am I to deny them?
I love my dad. Athena has never done anything other than treat me like her daughter. So, it’s time to set aside my feelings and be happy, even if I have to pretend, even if my heart breaks watching them say their vows.
It’s not about me.
I choose the A-line cabernet dress and reach behind me to zip it. But my arm isn’t long enough, so I do a weird dance that goes nowhere.
Annoyed, I give up and open the door. Of course, Atlas is drawing in his book, his fingers zipping across the page.
I clear my throat.
He looks up.
“Can you help me?” I feel stupid but turn around anyway, pointing at the back of my dress. “I can’t reach.”
He slips the charcoal pencil behind his ear and leaves the sketchbook on the chair. His hand falls to my back, pushing me into the dressing room.
The door shuts.
My breathing quickens.
Atlas zips the dress, and I look at him in the mirror, his eyes carefully taking in my body as if he likes what he sees.
“You look beautiful, Ophelia.”
“I look acceptable,” I joke.
He spins me around, pushing my back to the mirror, and then his hands are on my face. His fingers stroke my cheeks. “Stop worrying about what people think. A woman as beautiful as you should feel comfortable in anything.”
Atlas is good with words.
He rarely uses them, but my heart does a summersault when he does. I feel special when we’re together.
Powerful.
Sexy.
I still think about what he said when he handed me the sketch I framed. Every day since I have looked at my picture, I have wondered how he could see me like that. How could someone else see something I never could?
I suck in a deep breath and look away from him. He leans forward and strokes the pads of his thumbs across my cheeks.
“Look at me, Ophelia.”
My eyes meet his.
I expect him to say something. To tell me I’m beautiful again. Instead, his lips lightly brush mine. My lips part for him, but he doesn’t push his tongue into my mouth or even try.
Atlas smells like charcoal, champagne, and mint toothpaste. It’s an unusual mixture, but I like his scent because it’s unique to him. A chill runs through my body as his lips touch mine once more.
He licks along the seam of my mouth. Ares claims me like a king trying to conquer a new land. But not Atlas. He wants to take his time and explore.
“Are you doing okay in there?” Layla asks from the other side of the door.
Define okay.
“Yes,” I lie.
Atlas steps back as if the bubble surrounding us has burst into a million pieces. Our small moment in time is over. I can already see him retreating into his head.
“Perfect.” I can hear the smile on Layla’s perky face behind the closed door. “I’ll be out front helping a customer if you need me.”
The second Layla disappears, Atlas leaves the room as if nothing happened.