Sins & Mistrust (44 page)
“To my beautiful bride and the beginning of our life together. I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”
“To forever,” I toast in agreement.
I take a long sip from my flute before placing it on the small table. I step back slowly, watching Tyler take a drink, his eyes never leaving mine. I reach around my back and release the first of many buttons that holds my dress together.
“Let me,” he whispers, putting his glass down and making it across the room in two strides. He circles me until he’s behind me and begins to slowly take out the pins of my hair, releasing my elaborate up do. Once he’s satisfied that he has them all, he uses his fingers to shake out my hair until it falls in soft waves, framing my face.
I sigh as he kisses my bare shoulder, making my body shiver with excitement. His fingers lightly travel up to my ear where he removes my earring then gently tugs on my earlobe with his teeth. This earns a gasp of shock from me, and I’ve barely recovered before he removes the other earring.
My body grows warmer with Tyler leaving a trail of kisses down my neck, shoulders, and finally the top of my dress. I feel his powerful hands begin to undo the buttons, my dress getting looser as he opens each one.
“Hands up over your head wife,” he teases softly. Giving me a command is very unlike Tyler. He’s more about asking me what I want, letting me tell him what will make me feel good which is nice…but I really like this.
Hearing him call me his wife is strange, but it’s strange in the most incredible way. In the way that makes me believe that dreams do come true, because from the moment I allowed myself to fall in love with him, Tyler West has been my biggest dream. To Forever, I think to myself as he continues his sweet seduction.
I lift up my arms for him as he bends down and gathers the hem of my dress in his hands. He effortlessly lifts it up over my head, tossing it on a nearby chair. His hooded gaze scours the entire length of my body, taking in my bare breasts and the flimsy strip of ivory material I was assured were panties. I can see the exact moment when his eyes pool with desire; it’s the same moment when my desire pools between my thighs. The look in his eyes is almost too much.
“Jesus Everly, you take my breath away.”
I say nothing in return, just stare at him trying my best to memorize his face, memorize how he is looking at me right now. I don’t know why I do it—but it feels like it’s important, like I should never forget how he looks in this moment. I didn’t think it would ever be possible to love him as much as I do or love him more than I did when I woke up this morning, but right now I think I just might. It’s the most beautiful and scary feeling in the world to put yourself out there like that, give your heart away so effortlessly to another person.
“Sit down on the bed,” he demands in a husky voice laced with desire.
I do as he asks, backing up until the back of my legs hit the edge of the mattress. I lower myself down until I’m sitting and facing him. He reaches for his glass and gulps down the rest of his champagne before striding across the room and bending down before me. He reaches down and grabs hold of my ankle; he releases the strap and slides my bejeweled shoe off of my foot. Once he’s divested me of both shoes, I reach down and begin to unbutton his shirt while he undoes his cufflinks.
I waste no time in shoving the shirt off of his shoulders while he helps me slide it off. Tyler gets to his feet, pulls his undershirt over his head, and starts to remove his pants.
“Slide back and lie down for me baby.” His voice is even hotter than before, he’s taking control in a way that I’m not used to, and it’s only getting me more excited. His words make me even wetter, needier for him; he’s never been like this before. I do as I’m told while he takes care of the rest of his clothing; I shudder as I take in the sight of him in all his glory. Tyler. My husband. Mine. For as long as we both shall live. He’s my life now, my world, and I intend to make him as happy as he makes me.
He climbs onto the bed, crawling up until he’s hovering over me and we’re face to face. His eyes burn through me, filling me with a heady combination of love and lust.
“Have I mentioned how beautiful you are?”
I let out a sigh and smile shyly. “So are you.”
“I love you Everly, I fucking love you so much. I promise you that no matter what, no matter what happens I’ll always take care of you.”
“Make love to me husband,” I whisper, keeping the tears at bay. No wife has ever felt this happy, because there’s only one Tyler, and he’s all mine.
To forever…
Four Years Later
“God it’s cold today Ty,” I remark, wrapping my arms around my torso before I burst into a fit of giggles. “Four years of marriage and I’ve resorted to talking to you about the weather. I guess that doesn’t bode well huh?” I let out a sigh, close my eyes, and tilt my head up letting the rays of the sun warm me. It’s the start of the summer season here, but the mornings still tend to be a bit on the colder side. “I guess it doesn’t really matter anyway.”
Growing up, I was addicted to romance novels, reading about the moment when a boy meets a girl and they fall in love, overcoming insurmountable circumstances. But no matter what they faced, no matter how high the obstacles—they would always, always get their happy ending, their happily ever after. I learned the hard way that the romance novels are wrong! Happily ever after doesn't always mean forever. I know this because my happily ever after was stolen, ripped away from me in the most unimaginable kind of way.
I run my hand over the top of the gray headstone and take a look at the dates imprinted on it. It’s still surreal when I look at it. Hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that my beautiful husband ended up here—in a cold lonely cemetery, the victim of a random carjacking—hours after we had celebrated our wedding, instead of living a lifetime full of love with me.
In everyone’s life there are moments in time, events that define you, instances that effect you in such a way that they alter the way that you think, the way that you choose to live your life. For me, losing Tyler is the thing that defines me because when he died he left a gaping hole in my heart so large that nothing could ever fill it. Not time, not hope for the future, not the idea of a new love…none of those things could ever change the fact that all I’ll ever be is broken. In fact the idea of me feeling whole is like trying to get a rose to bloom in the desert…impossible.
I place a small bouquet of flowers on the grave and wipe away my now falling tears. Being here never gets any easier but leaving him here…leaving him here is like a knife in my chest.
“Happy anniversary babe,” I whisper, before finally walking away from him. I notice all the beautiful flowers around me, people who just like me have come to pay respects to someone who we once loved. It seems almost wrong having so much beauty in a place that represents so much sadness. I make it back to my car, get in, and let go, sobbing uncontrollably into my steering wheel. This will never get any less painful.
I never thought I’d be the kind of girl who spent her life dwelling on the past, on all of the things that should have gone one way but then went horribly wrong. I always prided myself on being strong, resilient, and capable of making the best out of bad circumstances, but shit, I was so wrong. For four years I’ve let my grief control everything, I’ve let it suffocate me and snuff the light right out of my life and the thing of it is…I’m okay with that. I have no desire to forget, to forge ahead and move on without my husband. My husband… Jesus can I even call him that? It’s like a cruel joke; the ink was barely dry on the marriage certificate before he died.
To Forever…
Forever—that’s what he said. Well Tyler, I think to myself, forever never came. I sit here in my car gazing at the gloomy sky, the thick clouds that hide away all traces of sunlight for what must be a long time. It usually takes me a while before I’m finally ready to drive away from here, but this time I tell myself I’ll stay away, at least for a while. No more monthly visits to this place. It doesn’t make me feel any better, and I know that Tyler wouldn’t want me to keep coming back. I’m never really going to find what I’m looking for here. This place holds no answers, no solutions, no hope, and it leaves me feeling even more lost and lonely than I did before. It takes me days to start to even begin to feel normal again after leaving here. As normal as I can feel anyway. The truth is that besides going to work, I’ve managed to detach myself from the outside world and alienate everyone who ever gave a damn about me. Nice work Everly.
My parents still try to get through to me because really what kind of parents would they be if they just gave up on me? I guess they still have hope that I’ll come back to them as the happy loving girl they once knew, but I know that will never happen, and I feel for them, I really do. Ty’s parents make a monthly appearance at my door, and they like to share their grief with me. I almost think it makes them feel better to see just how miserable I am. Like my sadness means something to them—maybe it shows them that their son didn’t die in vain. That someone loved him so much that she can’t even begin to fathom moving on with her life so she stands frozen, cemented in place, while the whole world goes forth without her. Seasons change, people live their lives—fall in love, get married, have babies, move away, change jobs, buy houses, laugh, cry, feel—and all the while she remains unchanged, unmotivated, unmoving.
That’s the cliff notes version of the girl I’ve become, it sums it up pretty nicely I think. I point my car in the direction of my house and drive. I drive around in the car that Tyler helped me pick out, the car that he haggled with the dealer over for hours and hours trying to get me the best possible deal on. I still have a year’s worth of payments on it; one more year of driving a vehicle that reminds me of nothing but him. The anxiety begins as I get closer to home. For most people, coming home is the highlight of their day. I wonder what it would feel like to go home to a place where you can relax, unwind, and feel free to be whoever it is that you want to be. I can’t imagine it though, because for me going home feels like serving out a lifelong prison sentence with no possibility of parole, every day it just gets harder and harder.
I park my car in the double garage, a single car in a garage made for two. I think of the irony of that and let out a sigh before making my way inside and flipping on the light switch. This was my dream house, the house that Ty and I had constructed after we got engaged, thinking that we would do it right the first time so that we wouldn’t have to move around every few years. A house big enough to accommodate us, our future children, and even our future pets, a Maltese for me and a chocolate lab for him. A house with five bedrooms, a huge backyard, and a massive pool; the house that literally broke the bank to get built but we knew we would make it work. This was the house that all of my dreams were built on, now it’s just a constant reminder of what could’ve been, of what will never be. If I could light a match and burn it to the ground I would. I positively hate it.
Weeks after Tyler died, after the endless stream of visitors left, family, friends, and neighbors paying their respects and bringing me enough food to feed an army, after I finally got my parents to leave me alone here I began to think about my finances. For a while there I thought I wouldn’t be able to cover the expense of this house on my own, and I figured I’d be able to sell it. I know it sounds terrible, but I was honestly relieved by that. But Tyler’s life insurance policy covered the majority of the mortgage and his parents graciously offered to pay the rest. It was a final gift from my dead husband…worst present ever. Every so often I tell myself that I should sell it. Logically, I know that I should leave everything in it behind, pack up my clothes and just sell it, but the guilt would be too much, or maybe I just like living like this. Perhaps the misery and loneliness I feel here is my way of punishing myself for living.
I climb the marble staircase up to the second level, enter my cavernous bedroom, and toss my purse onto the dresser. I plug my cell in the charger before I strip down to my t-shirt and panties, tie my hair up into a messy bun, and climb onto the massive bed. It’s not even twelve o’ clock in the afternoon, but I feel emotionally drained after my visit to the cemetery. Sleep is the best thing for me right now—if I’m lucky I can escape my feelings through sleep. In the beginning, I would dream of chocolate eyes, the eyes that I used to love getting lost in which now sadly only haunt me.
I wake to the sound of my cell phone ringing; my eyes try to adjust to the light as I clumsily reach out for my phone.
“Hello,” I answer with a groggy voice, not even bothering to check who it is. I don’t get many phone calls anyway; realistically it can only be a handful of people.
“Hey Everly, I was just thinking about you and I wanted to check in. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
I let out a sigh doing a poor job of hiding my slight annoyance. “Oh hi Morgan. No, no, it’s not a bad time, how are you?”
