The Perfect Plans Series [Box Set] (85 page)

No
, I close my eyes at the realization. I didn’t miss him. I
know
he’s not here. I know that if he were, I would be drawn to him. It’s a painful reality I can’t deny.

“IS IT RUDE to throw a breath mint in someone’s mouth while they’re talking?” Stacey whispers at my side.

“Stop it,” I laugh. It’s funny, but such a good question. One more kiss to my cheek and I may turn into a toad. It’ll be a whole new kind of fairytale.

“I’m dead serious. I think that last dude brushed his teeth with moth balls,” she adds, shielding her mouth inconspicuously in time to greet another guest with a smile. “I know I won the battle for my quaint little wedding, but, Jesus, did you see the guest list for this reception? Look at all of these people. Thomas knows the whole fucking city.”

“Yes, it seems he does. And, on that note, perhaps his bride should dial down the
wearing-say
a little.”

“What? Speak fucking English, Abs.”

I roll my eyes. “The swearing, Stace. Dial it down a notch.”

“
Oh, sure
. Anything for you, sweet-tits,” she rolls her eyes, and I pinch her underarm. “Ouch,” she drawls dramatically, shooting me an
I can’t believe you just did that
glare.

“There’s my beautiful bride,” Thomas greets us from behind, folding Stacey in his arms before she has time to turn. “Have I told you today how lucky I am?” he kisses her cheek.

She leans back into him, beaming. “Tell me again. Or better yet,” she turns in his embrace to face him, “…show me.”

“Gladly, Mrs. Stevenson-Fines,” he stares lovingly into her eyes before cupping her cheeks, bending to take her in a sweet kiss. “Today, tomorrow…forever.”

I feel like a voyeur standing next to them, completely absorbed in their moment of bliss. Yet I can’t turn away, each second I stare pulling me into a bubble of fantasy as they morph into a visual of Alex and I. It’s Alex’s face I see as he kisses her a second time,
my
lips he’s kissing; the tingle created there so real it draws the pull of my hand to my mouth, suddenly breaking the spell. Shaking it off, I turn away and close my eyes against the aching pain in my heart.

The hurt doesn’t keep the torturing memories at bay, however, as I’m thrown back in time to our island retreat. All of the beautifully romantic ways Alex showed me his love,
proved
his love, before even saying the words. His love was perfection, whispered so perfectly in his every touch, every glance, every kiss.

Too good to be true
- my inner actress bites, pinching the arm of my inner dreamer. I grimace from the sting of reality, taking a deep breath of composure, its bitter aftertaste begging to be washed down with a large gulp of Champagne as I reach for my glass.

“I’m sorry to see Alex absent from your side, Aby. Filming obligations?” Thomas questions innocently.

I notice Stacey purse her lips as I take another large sip of Champagne. Of course she hasn’t had a chance to fill Thomas in on the latest drama.
Humph
. My love life can now be summed up in theatrical highlights. Irony really is a bitch.
Well, take a bow, Cupid. You deserve it, you chubby-faced whore
, I take another drink.

“We’re not…exactly sure if Alex will be able to make it,” Stacey chimes in with an awkward smile.

“Oh, well, it’s a shame he missed dinner, but perhaps he will arrive in time to sweep you onto the dance floor,” Thomas winks.

“Perhaps,” I raise my flute in cheers to my pathetic lie, emptying its contents in time for a refill from the lovely young waiter with impeccable timing. Maybe I can get drunk and stumble my way through the rest of the evening.
Yes, that sounds like a perfect plan
, I smile to myself on sip as another guest greets Stacey and Thomas.

“You look lovely this evening, Abigail.”

I spin on my heels at the slithering sound of the voice - Helena Adelaide, in all her sickeningly, beautiful glory, smiling radiantly at me. I can’t help peering over her shoulder wondering if Alex lingers not far behind. Instant hatred burns through me, exploding through my veins before hardening my bitter heart. I never had any real reason to hate her before, at least not before last night. But now, as I’m assaulted with the visual of her naked body emerging from Alex’s bathroom, her evil sneer, I realize
hate
isn’t a strong enough word. My hands tremble noticeably from the onslaught, spilling my glass of Champagne.

“Are you all right, darling? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

No, whore-dusa, actually
. For a moment in my mind, she contorts into the whorish reptile that she is, bulging in the center from devouring her latest victim.
Well, I’ll be damned if she thinks that’s going to be me
. “Let me guess,” I lay the flute down, picking up a napkin to wipe my hand, “…you’re dying to brag about your little conquest? Maybe rub my nose in it a little?” I bend to whisper the latter in her ear with patronizing composure - a silent salute to my inner actress.

“Not at all” she slithers coyly.

Her performance of indifference makes me want to slap her. I refrain, though the idea may have twisted my smirk into a looming snarl.

“You know,” she pauses slightly, “…I’ve always wondered if Alex told you about us. I had my suspicions, of course, based on your behavior.”

Really? Ugh
, I roll my eyes, tuning her out. I don’t see any penises in the general vicinity, so why does she keep opening her mouth? “Oh, put the coy card away. Does it really matter that I knew about your slut status, Helena?”

She flashes me a closed-lip smile that screams condescending. “So, I assumed correctly. Alex
did
tell you,” her smile twists into a smug grin.

Are you kidding me?
I want to punch her in the throat. I can’t take my eyes off her little swan neck.
Alex didn’t have to tell me you’re a whore. That information,
sweetheart
, seeps through your pores
. Though my inner sarcasm is keeping my calmed demeanor intact, the unconscious use of Alex’s term of endearment almost puts me over the edge.

Her eyes sparkle with glee, peering at me over the rim of her glass of Champagne as she takes a sip, patiently waiting for me to say something. How Alex could have anything to do with this woman is beyond me.
Oh, right…Perception is everything
. And she plays the game so
very
well.

Well, I’m tired of playing games. “What is it,
exactly
, that you want, Helena?” I pull the indifference card from her deck, picking up my Champagne.

“I simply wanted to apologize for leaving you in the dark last night,” she shifts her weight to one perfectly toned leg, running her palm along the pearls around her stupid swan neck - the motion holding my attention to her gullet. I’m not sure how much longer I can refrain from grabbing it.

“Oh, did you need confirmation that I saw you? Surprise!” my brows rise, screaming
ta-da
, “It certainly was for me,” I mumble the latter into my flute, taking a sip, looking for an escape before I really do hurt this woman.

A couple seated at a table in the corner catch my eye, the dark haired man leaning in to whisper in the woman’s ear as she smiles - a smile full of love. Happiness. She glances my way, our eyes meeting in an instant before she finds the gaze of the man at her side - a gaze full of trust. Devotion.
I love you, too
, she whispers, the words shooting across the room like an arrow of clarity to my heart.

Try to look past what appears on the surface…try to see what is real beneath, before allowing perception to come into play
, Alex’s words rush through my mind
, I love you, Aby
. He proved his love long before he ever shared the words. He made sure I saw it. Felt it. Trusted in it. And I doubted him once. Am I really going to do it again?

“Is everything okay here?” Stacey’s alarm jars me back to the present, her concerned gaze flickering from mine to Helena’s and back again.

I’m not going to doubt him again…
“I have to go,” the words fall from my lips as reality of my love and trust in Alex smacks me in the face. I can’t explain why that whore was there last night, but I do know I can’t believe for one more second that he would do anything to hurt me. I choose to trust him.

I move to sidetrack Helena but Stacey stops me with a soft pull on my arm. “The MC would like to start the toasts,” she says softly, her gaze unwavering between the two of us.

“I have to find Alex,” I mutter, leaning over the table to grab my clutch.

“What? Aby, what’s going on?” Stacey grabs my arm again.

Glancing quickly towards her, I gently pull from her hold, catching a glimpse of Helena’s amused gaze before scanning the crowded ballroom. “I have to find him,” I repeat on a whisper, grabbing my dress to avoid tripping.

Helena steps in front of me, halting my retreat, and I glare at her, “I don’t know what happened last night, but I do know one thing, I trust Alex.”

Smiling, she steps aside. “Clever girl,” I hear her whisper as I pass.

“Excuse me?” I turn to face her.

“I knew you saw me last night, Abigail, but what I needed to know was what you would conclude,” Helena’s smile is surprisingly warm. “A man that loves you as much as Alex does deserves your trust, I’m glad to see he has it.”

“He does. But how sweet of you to decide to test it,” I motion to leave.

“It was Ben, Abigail. I was there with Ben,” her words halt my departure. “But Alex is important to me - as a
friend
. And I look out for my friends.”

Pausing for a second, I continue on, making my way quickly through the crowd. I need to find Alex. Every cell of my being screams run…run to him. And I know I’d run to the ends of the earth if it meant finding him there.

The crowded room blurs around me, inundating me with grins from guests as I pass. They could all be wearing the same blank mask for all I know, since the only smile I’m hoping to find is on the face of Alexander Tate - the man of my dreams. The man I love more than anything in this world. The man nothing is going to stop me from getting back, regardless of all my stupid mistakes.
Our
stupid mistakes.

Reaching the center of the room once more, I stand and turn in an unconscious spin, a lost soul amid a sea of faces. The laughter and smiles dance eerily around me, hauntingly echoing through my panic.
He’s not here.

I spy Stacey, now seated at the head table, the MC bending down to her in conversation. I’m running out of time. Frantically, I search for the nearest exit, grabbing my dress to run for the double side doors. I fumble for my phone in my clutch, dialing his number the minute I walk through.

“No, no, no…” I utter, frantically, disengaging the call when his voice mail kicks in before opening the text app. The MC’s call for attention reverberates from inside the reception and my fingers shake as I prepare to type. I have so much that I need to say, and I’m out of time.
I’ve wasted so much time.

Struggling to hold back the sudden build of tears threatening to fall, I realize there’s only one thing I need to say. It screams from within me, stronger than anything I’ve ever felt before…

Subject:

I love you

MY HEAD IS spinning, my pulse pounding in my chest as I make my way back inside the reception hall, the attention of the room on the MC at the podium. Timing has not been my friend lately.
Nor has trust and common sense
, I grimace at the painful self-inflicted stab to my naïve heart, contemplating the most inconspicuous route back to the head table.

Deciding to go around the long way, I scoot along the far wall in hopes of avoiding attention. The only notice I seem to steal is that of Stacey, eyeing me with equal parts concern and Bridezilla-frustration as I reach my place to sit down. I mouth
I’m sorry
and try to summon a grin of some kind in return to her momentary loving gaze - very momentary, as in an instant her face contorts back into crazy bride. Jabbing her finger towards the wedding agenda on the table in front of her, I realize she thinks I should have a look at mine.

Great
,
I’m up next.
As a matter of fact, with the exception of the MC reading the regrets and loving messages of those absent right at this moment, I’m the
only
one making a speech. It was decided that since Evelyn is Stacey’s only family present, I would speak for both the bride and the groom. My mission statement: Don’t focus on either as I say something nice about love and marriage to toast the celebration of their union.