Remembering Phoenix (5 page)

“Gosh, Mama and Daddy, you didn’t have to do this for me,” Lizzie cries, dabbing the tears from her eyes.

“Oh, but we did. You’ve always been such a light in everyone’s life, spreading love wherever you go without asking anything in return. You deserve to have the honeymoon you always dreamed of. I’m just glad Stetson agreed to let me do this, and lie to you about it for months,” Mom replies.

“Months?” she asks, eyes wide in astonishment. “He knew about this for months, and still told me we were going to Florida for our honeymoon? He knew about this incredible luxury cruise?” Tears still sting her eyes as she tries to fan them away with her hands.

“I might have threatened him within an inch of his life if he spoiled this for you. We wanted to wait until today,” Dad chimes in.

She gasps, “No you did not! Guys, this is too much. You’ve already paid for my wedding. It’s not your place to pay for the honeymoon, too.”

Mom looks down for a moment before looking back up at Lizzie. “We know honey, but we didn’t want Stetson to have to pay for it. I know if his parents were alive they’d pay for it, but that’s not how God saw fit. So we’re stepping in for them. Take this as our last wedding gift to you two. You both deserve to see the world. This is a small part of it.”

Stetson’s parents died about five years ago in a plane crash. They were flying to a meeting on a private plane when one of the engines blew up. Lizzie and Stetson met shortly after that, and according to Mom and …well… everyone else, she is the sole reason he didn’t continue his downward spiral into a dark hole.

Not everyone is so lucky.

“Okay, I would keep going, but I really don’t want to mess my makeup up,” Lizzie says, still fanning the tears from her eyes.

“It’s about time for me to go make sure those boys are ready, anyway,” Dad jokes. “Love you, honey.” He kisses Lizzie on the cheek before turning to me, doing the same. “Love you, Charlie Girl.”

“I love you too, Dad,” I reply. He gives me a curt nod before leaving the room.

I wish I could say my dad and I were extremely close like he and Lizzie are. He tries, but there is just a barrier we can’t seem to break like my mom and I were able to do. I don’t know if he just can’t get over my accident, the loss, or if we just won’t ever
click
like we apparently had before my accident.

From all the pictures and home videos I’ve seen, I was a Daddy’s girl through and through. Fitting, since I’m named after him. His name is Charles, and when he was little, his mom called him Charlie Boy, hence where my name and nickname come from.

Mom and Dad leave the bride’s room after saying their farewells, giving Lizzie and me some time to ourselves. The tension in my shoulders ease. Being in the room with all of my family still overwhelms me sometimes. The constant need to feel like I belong. The constant pressure to try and be the same girl I was before is oftentimes too much to bear. As much as I try, I’ll
never
be who I was before. How can I, when I don’t even know who that girl was?

“How was your last night as a single lady?” I ask while slipping my dress off the hanger.

“Holy crap. Last night as not husband and wife was freaking fantastic. If you know what I mean.” She waggles her eyebrows.

I laugh. “I bet it was.”

“I saw how Slayter looked at you all night. He couldn’t take his hungry eyes off of you.”

I laugh. “Lizzie, that’s enough. He’d never be into me. Which is just fine with me, because I’d never want him. You are absolutely insane for even thinking that.”

“I’m so serious! He even asked me about you.” She grins like she’s just won an argument.

“Like he doesn’t know about me. It seems like everyone knows about me… but me.”

She sighs. “No. He really doesn’t. He and Stetson just started speaking again about a year and a half ago, and I asked Stet not to tell anyone about you because I know you don’t like people feeling sorry for you,” she replies, so innocently.

“Thank you. That means a lot,” I admit. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t all that chipper last night. You know public outings aren’t really my thing.”

“It’s okay. Really. I get it. Now, back to Slayter…” She cocks her head to the side as she waits for me to speak.

I roll my eyes. “No, not back to Slayter.”

She spins on her heel and falls into the couch. “He told me you guys met a few weeks ago.”

“Met? More like he stole my shots I ordered. I was having a shit day. It was
the
day, October fifteenth, and all I wanted was some alcohol to calm my nerves. Then he comes in and does that. He’s an asshole. I can’t stand him.”

“He’s a really good guy, Char. He’s been through some tough stuff lately. You can’t fault him.”

I huff. “I don’t fault him. I just don’t like him. He’s arrogant. And yes, he
is
an asshole.”

“Who’s an asshole?” I turn towards the door and see Olivia, Randi, and Abby walk in. Abby pops her hips to the side and repeats herself, “So, who’s the asshole?”

I clinch my jaw, wanting to say
you are,
but I don’t.

“Charlie said Slayter was an asshole,” Lizzie belts out.

Why can’t she shut up? The only thing I want Abby to know I was saying is what I tell her. Ugh. She makes my skin crawl.

It’s no secret I am not a people person. People, in general, make me want to poke my eyes out. Most people, however, I can pull my big girl panties up and deal with. Abby is not one of those people. You know the itch on your back you just need to scratch to get rid of, but you can’t, no matter how hard you try, but you just
need
that scratch to go away? She’s that itch. And I loathe it.

“Oh. But he’s hot as hell with his chiseled jaw and dusting of facial hair. And his sex hair; I could pull it so hard. God. And sculpted, lean abs. Damn, I’d like to try him out.”

My skin prickles with irritation the longer she talks about him. “Don’t cuss in church,” I bark out before I can stop myself.

God, I just sounded like him.

“You’re so moody,” Abby chides.

“And you’re such a wh—“

“So, let’s get dressed!” Randi cheers, stopping me midsentence. She winks at me and blows me a kiss.

I laugh and roll my eyes at her. She knows she was thinking it, too.

“You ready for this, Sis?” I ask, hugging my sister one last time before she becomes a married woman.

She takes a deep breath while looking at her reflection in the mirror. She tugs at the few loose strands of hair cascading down the sides of her face before running her hand delicately over the loose, low-hanging up do. The lace bodice of her fitted, mermaid dress hugs her svelte figure perfectly. If she was beautiful before, she’s radiant now.

“I am. I can’t wait to marry the absolute love of my life,” she whispers, more to herself than to me.

“You look beautiful, Lizzie. I’m so proud and happy for you,” I confess. She fiddles with the intricate locket around her neck, and it catches my eye. A small, tiny necklace that holds so much. Tears threaten to cloud my vision as I stare at the delicate jewelry. Lizzie catches wind of what I’m looking at and she brings me in for a hug. I narrow my sight in on the corner of the mirror. I need to concentrate on something other than the cold, bitter truth of what’s missing today. Or
who’s
missing, rather.

It’s a contradictory thing to miss someone so terribly much who you have no recollection of. I might not remember, but my soul feels the void every single day of my life.

“I wish he were here,” she whispers. “But I’m so glad you’re here today. I wouldn’t want any other person standing by my side on the biggest day of my life.”

“Yeah,” is all I can manage to choke out as the emotion overcomes me.

I wish I weren’t here.

We stand in pained silence for several seconds before the door swings open, breaking our somberness. “It’s go time, bitches!” Randi yelps. “Oops. Forgot I was in church.”

Lizzie gives me a sad smile before turning to the rest of the bridesmaids. “Sorry. We were just having a sister moment.” She dabs underneath her eyes, double checking over her makeup in the mirror. “Let’s go, shall we? I’m ready to see my man!”

I take a deep breath and follow everyone out of the room, leaving the sadness behind, even if for just a little while.

The pianist starts playing an instrumental as the doors quietly close shut. Everyone gets into position. All the bridesmaids look beautiful in their flowing plum colored dresses. As much as I hate to admit it, even Abby looks pretty.

I glance at myself in the mirror hung on the wall above the long, wooden table. As soon as my eyes see the reflection behind me, I glance away quickly. I snap my head, looking behind me. Slayter stands there in a light gray tuxedo, his hair slicked back ever-so-handsomely and… wait. Why do I think he’s handsome?

Stop it, Charlie.

“Catching flies?” he asks, cocking his eyebrow up in satisfaction.

I snap my mouth shut and turn away from him.

“You look beautiful,” he whispers. His breath drifts across my skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps.

I smile, but I don’t want to smile. I want to slap him, because there’s no way in hell
this
guy thinks I’m beautiful. He’s either a super good liar or he’s just trying to be nice.

I’m not sure I like either one of those options.

“Yeah. Okay. Is my scar beautiful, too?” I ask bitterly.

His brows furrow, but before he can answer, I hear chattering coming from behind. I turn to see my dad walking up. His black hair, speckled with gray, shines from the oil he always uses to style it.

He straightens up and buttons his jacket before walking our way. His eyes zone in on Lizzie and tears glisten in them, wrapping her in a hug. “You are absolutely beautiful,” he chokes out.

In all the two years I’ve spent getting to know my father again, he’s never once cried. Actually, he’s never had much of any emotion.

My feet move on their own accord towards my sister and father. He catches sight of me and releases Lizzie. His eyes grow wide, and I suddenly want to shrink down to the size of an ant. “Charlie Girl. Wow. You look… you are… stunning.” My cheeks flush because he’s never really given me a compliment before, and now that he’s looking at me, the tears aren’t just glistening in his eyes anymore. A few have escaped, and now my hazel eyes are mirroring his hazels, both filled with tears and staring right into each other. “Come here,” he whispers as he opens his arms to welcome me into a hug. I make the two steps to close the distance between us as the smell of mint and tobacco invade my senses. I close my eyes, and breathe in the smell. It’s comforting. It feels familiar, warming, welcoming.

It feels like home.

“Dad?” I ask, his chin resting on top of my head.

“What, darling?”

“Did I always use to do this? Stay on your chest and just breathe in your scent?”

He pulls back quickly and stares at me with a look of surprise. “You remember?”

I shake my head, smiling softly. The excitement in his face makes me wish so badly I didn’t have to let him down… again. “No. But I feel like I’ve always loved it. It just feels so comfortable. So familiar.”