Suite 269 (7 page)

I
stood
in front of the mirror staring into the eyes of a complete stranger. She was dressed in white silk and lace, a veil hung from her wild hair, and she looked ready to jump right out of a window. My mother and so-called future mother-in-law stood behind me, proud tears in their eyes.

I'm gonna hurl
.

The wedding gown was suffocating me. It took me about two seconds. Two seconds of seeing myself in that idiotic dress to realize my wedding was still happening; like storm clouds hovering on the horizon and thunder rolling in. There were fifteen more days.

The organza and lace choked me, smothered me with its Vera Wang claws, and had me hyperventilating on the floor. "Off. Off," I panted, hands fumbling at the tiny pearl buttons that held me captive in the silky coffin. "Get this stupid thing off of me!"

Mandy was next to me instantly, her fingers hitting precise strings and buttons to get the fabric off my skin. "Okay, sweetie, okay. I'm taking it off," she whispered into my ear.

"Don't be so silly, Lexa. You look lovely, dear. If you're that worried about how you look, we could get you on one of those detox diets until the wedding. I bet you could lose all those extra pounds before you step one foot down the aisle."

Mandy and I both stiffened at the same time. Her hands up the back of my gown, me bent over; we must have looked the sight. "Hold me back, Mandy. I'm going to throttle her," I snapped.

"No. No. No, you won't." Mandy grabbed me by the waist and dropped the gown, which fell off me in one quick puff of fabric. "Calm down. Breathe. Just breathe." She stepped directly in front of me and cupped my face in her hands. "Look at me, Lex. What are you thinking?" Somewhere outside the walls of the store, a loud group of kids walked past, their voices happy and screeching, yet almost muted from so far away.

"I can't do this. I don't even know why I'm here. I can't marry someone who cheated on me, Mandy." I tilted my head to look past her. My mother stood with her hands covering her mouth, tears filling her eyes. Mrs. Trager next to her, eyes wide with shock. "I'm sorry. I need air," I said, grabbing my clothes and bolting out of the dressing room.

Yes, I ran through the front of the store yanking my shirt over my head (inside out and backwards), with my jeans and shoes in hand. No, I didn't think about it, it wasn't really a priority. All I wanted was air and to be out of that wedding gown.

By the time I reached the front door, I was hopping into my pants and stumbling out into the street, zipping up my zipper and gulping for air. The small crowd of teenagers I heard stood staring at me from the corner. All their laughter ceased.

I needed to think, and I certainly couldn't think with that stunning wedding gown on and my mother watching.
Trager had said it was only one time
.

Only one time.

He said it was only one time and that if I cancelled the wedding I'd be giving up our future for one silly little mistake. An accident.
An ass fucking accident
. I don't mean to be crass here, but that's what it was, it was exactly what I saw. It still lingered in my vision as if it were burned into the back of my eyelids. It made me want to pour bleach into my eyes and scrub them clean.

I drove home enraged and on a mission. Every stupid love song that had ever been created sobbed out of my car speakers.

The truth was I didn't want to forgive and I couldn’t forget. May God forgive me, but I didn't want to spend my life in a marriage where I would wonder constantly if my husband was doing something I knew him capable of once doing. Mistake or not. So, I needed more. I needed proof, because I knew in my heart that the whole 'only one time' had to be a lie. Just like everything else that fell out of Kevin's mouth…all lies.

I stormed through my apartment on a mission: find proof. I searched through clothes, drawers, receipts, and calendars:
nothing
. Then I turned on his laptop. The idiot always used the same password for everything:
moneyman789
.

That was all I needed.

As I scrolled through the countless porn and disgusting emails detailing their
not
only one time affair, my phone buzzed.

Kevin.

"Hello," I sung sweetly into the phone. My heart pounded in my chest. My stomach flipped and churned. Screaming at him and crying was all I wanted to do, but I held back, held myself together, and clenched my teeth.

"Babe? My mom said you left the fitting. I thought we we're getting past this. I love you. Tell me what I can do to make you feel better about this situation," he pleaded.

"Okay. I need the truth to make this decision; I want to know all the lies Kevin. No more games." Calm. Deep breaths. Breathe in. Breathe out.

"Come on, babe; leave your fact checking for work."

I hate you! I hate you for hurting me you stupid, stupid, stupid fool!
Tears trailed down my cheeks.

"Lex, it was just that one time. Only last Wednesday. I swear. I swear on everything. I promise you, baby."

"Really?"
Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar
.
I will never forgive you
.

"Hey, you know the scene in that famous movie, the one where the guy tells the girl how he feels and he holds up that big radio? Well, it's like that. That's how I feel about you. And I want to marry you so bad."

"You can't even tell me in your own words, can you?" I barked out a laugh.

"I'm not good with words, Lex. You're too good for my silly words. Come on, just forget about this, okay?"

"I don't want to play games, Kevin," I snapped.

"No games, baby. No games. I love you. Now get back to your fitting so you can look hot for me on our wedding day."

As soon as we hung up, I dialed another number and cried while listening to the phone ring, "Hello. Dream Wedding Planners. How may I help you?"

"Hello? Laura? This is Lexa Novak," I chirped through my tears.

"Hi, Lexa! Are we excited? Only a few more days!" she sang, her words full of joy. I wanted to reach right into the phone and punch her in her cheerful little throat.

"Yeah, about that. I'm going to need to cancel the wedding," I said in an eerily calm voice.

"If this is a joke, Miss Novak, it's not really a funny one," she said in a low voice.

"I really wish I were joking, Laura. But I can't get married now."

"Well, how about a reschedule then? If you cancel now you will lose all your money, but if you reschedule, I might be able to pull some strings and..."

"He cheated on me. I won't be rescheduling any wedding with him," I snapped. She gasped and coughed out an apology.

"Lexa, hun. We can't cancel the wedding. We have five thousand dollars worth of flowers being made, guests are flying in; you need to just take a few days and rethink this," she said hesitantly.

"Cancel it," I said, gritting my teeth.

"Hun, you are going to pay for all of it, whether you cancel or not. It's too late for refunds. You should just go through with the wedding and fix your problems after it," she huffed. "I just spoke on the phone with your mother-in-law this morning and there were no problems then, dear."

"Then she could marry her cheating bastard of a son," I yelled into the phone.

"Okay. Let's not do anything rash. Take a few days and think this through. You're talking about thousands of dollars."

I hung up on her. I understood completely. I was going to lose a lot of money because of
his mistake
.

With eyes out of focus from crying, I sat curled into a ball on my couch. I rubbed at my vision, trying to remember anything from the relationship worth holding on to. Nothing came to mind. My eyes roamed the apartment and I smiled to myself. No, nothing came to mind. Sophia could have him.

My phone chirped. I hoped it wasn't Kevin or anyone from my family who would try to persuade me to change my mind, because I had a lot to get done in very little time. I looked down at my phone.

How did James get my number?

My next phone conversation was to my building's superintendent. Within an hour, my locks were changed and a sign was hung on my door. And no more tears would be shed for Trager the Mailroom Guy—ever again.

I stood in front of the note on the door, smiling and feeling a bit better. I knew I made the right choice.

To my EX-fiancé, Kevin Trager,

Since you still thought our relationship was a game, let's play the last one together... A treasure hunt—romantic, right? Remember, that's how you asked me to marry you? Here's the game: I packed up all your belongings from MY apartment and now you have to find where all your crappy stuff is...Here are the clues! Have fun.

Clue 1: All your clothes are where you first told me you loved me.

Clue 2: All your personal papers and important files are where we first met.

Clue 3: All your pictures and stupid things you left around my house are where we had our first kiss.

Clue 4: Your laptop with everything on it, like naked pictures of you and Sophia, are at the house of the person who gave birth to you. She enjoyed the slide show as much as I did. I believe she understands my side of things a little more now.

What do you win for playing this game? All your stuff (I'm not sorry about your clothes—I had a little accident with scissors). And your freedom. Because I will never be okay with marrying someone who lies and cheats. I wanted a marriage, not a wedding, and you couldn't give me the marriage I deserved.

I hope you have a nice life.

It's just going to have to be without me.

Because I deserve better than this.

W
ednesday
.

I called into work sick. Ben and Jerry kept me company.

Thursday.

I still couldn't make it to work. There was an important John Hughes marathon on the television. Ben and Jerry left. Johnny Walker and Jack Daniels spent the night. I think Mandy came over too.

Friday.

Rain. I think.

My mother visited with a list of dating websites and chicken soup. She said it's good for the soul. But so was Jack Daniels. I introduced them. We ended up burning all of Kevin's pictures I had left in a pot on the stove. My curtains went up in flames and a fire extinguisher had to be used. That white foam was a pain in the ass to clean up.

Saturday and Sunday? Unmemorable—mostly because I truly have no recollection of either of those days.

Monday morning was work.

I sat at my desk—right hand clenched around a huge Caramel Frappuccino, second one of the day, and left hand rummaging through an enormous box of Godiva chocolate some anonymous person left on my desk. It was most likely Kevin. I didn't really care, you know, free chocolate and all.

I was so enrapt in my research (and sugary goodies) I barely heard the voices as they entered the office. I glanced up and saw a bright-eyed Mandy bouncing on the balls of her feet, standing next to a handsome...I scrambled up off the seat. "Mr. Holt."

"Miss Novak," he smiled, "you've missed work. Haven't answered any calls. How were your days off? Is everything okay?"

"Um. Yeah. I just had a rough day on Tuesday. I went um, to bed Tuesday night after getting rid of a rodent infestation I had in my apartment. When I woke up, it was this morning."

"Really?" he smiled, knowingly. God it feels like he’s the only person who gets my snarky jokes.

"Word to the wise, never drink NyQuil with our friend Jack. You might believe it's absolutely delicious at the time and admire the lovely shade of vomit it creates, but it packs a greater knockout than you could ever expect," I said.

James chuckled. In the cubicle next to me Frank, another fact checker, popped his head up. "You seriously drank NyQuil and Jack Daniels? Together?"

I winked at him. "You'd be surprised at how good it is."

"I'm surprised you're not dead," he said, laughing.

I glanced back up at James. He was smiling at me, his gaze lingering on my lips. "So what brings the managing editor all the way down into the basement this morning?" I asked, imagining him kneeling in front of my chair, my knees hooked over his shoulders and his lips against my flesh. A rush of blood heated my cheeks.

"I was hoping you could check on some information for me," he said, giving me one of his crooked smiles that made my heart practically explode.

"We usually use the office phone or email for that," Frank cut in.

"Shush, Frank," Mandy snapped, standing behind James and gesturing for Frank to either slit his own neck or to stop speaking. This was Mandy; it could have been either one.

"Well, I tried actually, but talking to the intern at the research desk is an exercise in patience," James said, still holding my gaze.

"Is it?" I laughed.

"Yeah, the kind that makes you want to throw your patience out the window and repeatedly jam your office phone against someone's head," he said, laughing.