The Perfect Plans Series [Box Set] (83 page)

See if it’s open
, she mouths, her finger jabbing towards me, poking the air. I’d laugh out loud at the intensity of her communication struggle if I weren’t so out of sorts as it is.

Turning back to the entrance, I weigh the idea.
Okay.
I’ll just try the knob
,
but this is silly. I reach for it and turn,
Alex never leaves it op…
“Oh. Humph,” I whisper to myself, walking inside. “Alex?” I peek into the kitchen before making my way down the hall, looking into each empty room as I pass.

Footsteps from the floor above stop me in my tracks. I literally freeze, bracing myself for when he comes down the stairs. I still have no idea what to say first.
Shit
. Everything seems to go wrong with us lately. Can whatever pops out of my mouth be right for a change?

For a moment, I hear nothing, realizing he obviously doesn’t know I’m here. Pursing my lips, I make my way towards the spiral staircase, pausing at the bottom for an extra breath of strength.
Time to fight for my man...

With light steps, I make my way up, delicious visuals of what I might find at the top filling me with a renewed fluttering of butterflies. The bees have left the nest, leaving me anxious, but pleasantly, just for the sight of him. It’s a giddy nervousness. Like we’re back at the very beginning, when every breath is filled with tingly anticipation.

Dusk is setting in, chasing away the light in the upstairs hallway, and the glimmer from under the bathroom door catches my eye as it dances with the shadows on the floor in front of me. Stopping to listen, I hear the shower.

Oh, gawd, he’s in the shower.
My heart pounds faster, threatening to burst from my chest at the instant visual of a naked Alex on the other side of the door. That would certainly save me from having to think of what to say, since I know I would simply jump him on the spot.

The attacking echo of a woman’s laughter stuns me in place, frozen in pained confusion with no time to recover as the bathroom door opens. My palm darts to my mouth to stifle a gasp at the sight of a naked Helena Adelaide emerging.

Giggling, her attention is drawn back inside before her gaze is suddenly locked on mine. Cold, sparkling eyes hold me hostage sending a shiver of horror slithering down my spine.

My hand drops to my side at the eerie curl of her lips, her killer glare enough to turn me to stone - my only salvation being the doleful cry of my heart that escapes on a silent gutted breath of defeat.

Pain-filled seconds of time pass in the blink of a snake-eye before she’s pulled back inside, her returned giggle stabbing me over and over, shattering my hardened heart.

“THAT WAS FAST,” Stacey mutters in surprise as soon as I open the car door.

“He wasn’t there,” I lie quickly, and flatly, fighting to disguise my trembling hands reaching for the seatbelt.

“He wasn’t there? But the door was open?”

“I guess he’s a dumbass
and
a prick for all those times he reminded me to lock
my
door,” I bite, quickly realizing my sudden unshielded wrath. “There was no one home,” I add, my inner actress returned in top form as I evade looking directly at Stacey. No need to add to my slip of rage by letting her see the hurt and pain in my eyes.

“A
prick
? Aby, what’s going…”

“Stace,” I interrupt her firmly, but cautiously, turning to face her with every ounce of Oscar-worthy composure I can muster. “I held up my end of the deal,” I smile, fighting the quiver in my lips, “…now it’s time to get the Bride-to-be home. You’re getting married tomorrow!” I add a little extra pep of excitement to my performance.

“And you’re clearly upset that you didn’t get to talk to Alex. I’m sorry, Abs. Maybe he’ll call later tonight, or in the morning.”

The look of empathy in her eyes is like a knife in my heart, and all I want to do it tear it out and slice every beautiful memory of Alexander Tate.

“ALEX,” I MOAN, my eyes closed in the pleasure of his perfect kisses along my neck. No…why are you here? How could you run to her?

Turning around, I see him on the bed, his hands gliding along my trembling body, smiling, gliding his lips along my skin. I look so happy, but I feel…pain. Agonizing pain. My heart is breaking as I watch our tender, sensual embrace
.

A bird chirps, my eyes closing at the sudden hum, before opening to the evil sneer of Helena Adelaide, held in Alex’s arms. It’s
her
flesh he’s devouring,
her
body he’s worshipping.
“
No. Why Alex? To get back at me...?”

My eyes flash open to darkness, my breaths coming in a pant, my heart aching with each beat. It was just a dream.
No
. Not a dream. Biting reality haunting me in my sleep. It’s pain very, very real.

I jump at the chirp of my cell phone, its reminder alert of a recent message sending it vibrating along the top of the nightstand. Begrudgingly, I reach for it, the bright light burning my eyes as they adjust to the screen…A text from Alex
. Why? Why is he doing this?

Subject: I’m trying

Please answer my calls. We need to talk about Andrew. About everything.

Everything?
No need to explain
everything
, Alex
…
I know what you did
. And I’m not ready yet to
talk
about it, let alone listen to him fill me in on something I already know. It’s painful enough without his words. His guilt - if he even has any.

I’ve ignored his repeated calls, finally switching the phone to mute before falling into bed. Since I’m not ready to hear anything he has to say, it wasn’t too difficult - painful with each ringing stab to my heart, yes, but the pain quickly recoiled into resentment. Resulting in rage-filled painful glances towards my phone with each unanswered call. Stupid me for leaving his contact settings for messages on over-ride.

What could he possibly have to say anyway? Would he even
tell
me that he was with her? Or would he leave that part out? If he did have the balls to admit it, would he tell me that he ran to her just to get back at me? Ironic since he questioned if that’s why I kissed Andrew.

Screw him
, I grimace a little at the harshness of the thought. Yes, my reasons for visiting Andrew that night
were
innocent, but I’d be lying if I said the question of why I crossed that line wasn’t lingering at the hands of Alex’s suggestion. Was I desperate for an escape? Or simply trying to hurt Alex in return? Maybe both.

Well, cheers to Alex for shining light on the double-edged sword - its razor edge now dripping with the blood of my broken heart.

“WHY DID I agree to get married in London again?” Stacey pouts dramatically, fluffing her mane of red tousled curls, cringing at her reflection. “Damn humidity in winter. I mean, what the hell, Abs?” she spins around holding up her mass of hair on either side. “If I’m going to look like the goddamn Lion King, I could
at least
be sitting on a beach getting drunk before I pledge an oath to the last man that will ever stick his tongue in my box.”

“You mean the man you love dearly?” I smirk.

“Yeah, that too. I’m marrying him aren’t I?” she shakes her head in exasperation, her expression screaming,
DUH
.

“Stace, your hair will be perfect.
You
will be perfect. You have a full staff, for heaven’s sake, coming to transform you into the most beautiful bride Thomas has ever seen. Stop freaking out.”

“I. Am. Not. Freaking. Out. I’m getting married.
I’m getting married
. Oh. My. God. I’m getting married,” she’s suddenly panting and gasping for air, stumbling to sit down.

“Okay, just breathe.
In
…and…
out
,” I demonstrate for effect, as though that’s going to make a difference.

“Fuck you, Aby.
You
breathe. I’m freaking out here!”

“You just said you weren’t!” I glare at her in panic. Frantically turning towards the bar, I start opening and closing cupboards and drawers in search of something to help her.

“I lied!” she shouts. “What the hell are you doing? I need help here.”

“I’m
trying
to help you. I’m looking for a paper bag or something, you’re hyperventilating!”

“A paper-fucking-bag? Listen, bitch, unless there’s a bottle of booze in it, you can stick the paper bag up your…”

“Stacey Stevenson! Bite your tongue.”

Our gazes dart towards the voice to find Stacey’s mother, Evelyn, standing in the entrance of the suite. She looks as beautiful as always, despite her customary low-maintenance appearance. Evelyn was never one to take the time to wear make-up or do anything special with her naturally stunning tresses, yet her natural beauty always shines through. She’s the polar opposite of Stacey that way, though their striking resemblance is uncanny. They share the same brilliant emerald green eyes and figure, but Evelyn is taller with lighter, strawberry blonde hair, next to Stacey’s bright copper tresses.

“Mommy!” Stacey jumps up, running to hug her.

I can’t help but smile at their loving embrace. Evelyn is the only family Stacey has in this world. That I know of, anyway. It’s been just the two of them since they moved to Toronto when we were in high school, neither having ever spoken of Stacey’s father. And I’ve never crossed the line she suggestively drew to warn that the topic was off limits. Though I have to be honest, I’ve always wondered if it played a part in the obvious ‘daddy’ issues that plague Stacey.

“Why is my beautiful baby girl so upset on her wedding day?” Evelyn pulls back, looking into Stacey’s eyes. “I don’t know how you put up with her, Aby, sweetie,” she winks at me, walking over to give me a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too, Mrs. Stevenson,” I smile.

“Ahhh,
hello
? Bridezilla over here! Woman. In.
Crisis
…” Stacey displays her best damsel-bitch-in-distress neck crane with exaggerated eye popping for extra effect.

“Crisis?” Evelyn looks concerned, gazing back and forth between us. “What’s happened? Is everything on schedule with the wedding?”

“Everything is fine. Perfect actually,” I glower at Stacey, to which she rolls her eyes. “Stacey is just having a minor panic attack it seems.”

“Baby,” Evelyn puts her arm around Stacey, guiding her to sit down. “This isn’t like you. You’re the
queen
of control,” she smiles encouragingly through her playfully loving sarcasm, cupping Stacey’s face to look into her eyes. “What can I do to help?”

“You just did,” Stacey smiles, hugging her mom. “I’m just so glad you’re here. You always know exactly what to say,” she adds, pulling back to look at her.

“I barely said anything at all,” she laughs. “And where else would I be?” She kisses her cheek.

“It’s not what you say, Mommy, it’s what you
do
. But actually, where you
should
be is down in the spa. It’s a gift from your soon-to-be son-in-law, Mom. You can’t blow it off. Pamper yourself this one time, okay?”

“It’s
your
day, Stacey,” Evelyn’s brows scrunch in gentle defiance. “I don’t need…”

“Mom. This is non-negotiable. I want my mother to look and feel amazing on my wedding day. You already have the look part down pat. So for just
one
day, play with that and get all dolled up. For me?
Please
?” she pleads dramatically with an exaggerated wide smile.