Be My Reason Page 11

  “Michael!” I shout at him. “It is time to wake up. We have so many plans to make.” I lower my voice again and say, “My exams are over and I can concentrate on our wedding now.” I go on about our wedding and what I dream it will be like. Then I tell him about our kids; one boy, one girl—just like we planned. I talk and talk until my throat goes dry.

  The door opens and his parents walk in.

  “No. I’m not ready. He’s not ready,” I cry, refusing to let go of his hand.

  “Lyn, sweetheart,” Michael’s dad says to me. “He’s already gone. This is not Michael. It is time to let him go.” He pulls me and his wife into a hug. “Nobody else wanted to be here when . . . ,” his wife lets out a stifled cry as he continues, “well, if you want to stay, we will be here, too.”

  A few doctors and nurses come into the room.

  Oh, God. This is happening. This is really happening.

  I don’t let go of his hand. A doctor says something to Michael’s dad who nods his head. The doctor explains to all of us what will happen but I can’t see him through my blurry tears and I can’t hear him through the sound of my heart pounding in my ears.

  His mom and dad walk around to the other side of the bed and his mom holds Michael’s other hand. His dad nods to the doctors.

  They turn the heart monitor off first and immediately I put my head on his chest so that I can still feel his heartbeat. Don’t go! Don’t leave me! I scream in my head.

  I hear someone flip a switch and the whooshing and whirring sounds cease. The door opens and some people leave. The room is so quiet. Almost peaceful. The only sounds are muffled sobs and sniffles.

  His chest rises and falls a few more times and then it goes still.

  Breathe. I implore him.

  His heart is still beating, although I can feel it slowing. It is lighter and lighter and as I feel him slipping away, I grip his hand harder. I put my other hand around him, under his back and mold myself to his chest. I want to become part of him, part of his body, part of his soul. I want to become one with him at this moment so that wherever he is going, whatever journey he is going on, he can take me with him.

  Slower and slower now I hear the beating in my ear . . . then nothing.

  Michael . . . take me with you.

  Chapter Nine

  Two years later . . .

  “Emma, if you would have had a rehearsal, like every other bride, you wouldn’t be so freaked out right now.”

  “I’m not freaked out, Lyn,” she says, while the hairdresser takes the super-large curlers from the top of her head, “I’m just excited. You know that Graham couldn’t take any more time off than the two weeks for our honeymoon. So we didn’t have a rehearsal. How hard can it be to remember in what order to walk down the aisle?” She points at me in the mirror. “You are the one freaking out.”

  “Am not,” I whine. Apparently I am a ten-year-old.

  “Lyn, I understand. You haven’t seen him in almost two years. I know you are nervous even though you won’t admit it.”

  I roll my eyes. “Whatever. Anyway, did you see the seating chart? Apparently the name of his plus one is Candy. What kind of name is that? Sounds like she belongs in a ‘Deep Throat’ movie if you ask me. Or maybe she’s a stripper.”

  Emma laughs at me and gives me a big smile while shaking her head. The large curls bounce over her shoulders. She is gorgeous. I mean, Emma is beautiful all of the time, but today . . . wow, she takes even my breath away. Graham is a dead man at the altar.

  The altar. The place I’m going to see him again. Of all the places in all the world, it has to be at a freaking church altar that I see him.

  I look at myself in the mirror. I love what the hairdresser has done with my hair. She has it up in a french twist with tendrils coming out all over. The make-up artist has transformed my face into something even I think is pretty. How does she use ten pounds of makeup but make it look like I don’t even have any on?

  “Girl . . . we are hot.” Emma laughs. “The guys will have a full-on meltdown.”

  “Who cares what I look like? You are the one that is hot.” I get a tear in my eye. “Emma, you are so beautiful and I’m so happy for you.”

  “God, Lyn, don’t cry and ruin the makeup. And not all eyes will be on me.” She winks in the mirror. “I doubt Nate will even notice me after you walk down the aisle looking like . . . that.” She waves her hand up my body.

  “Two years, Emma. It’s been two years and we have both moved on. I’m not interested in another relationship. Especially not with him. Plus he’s here with Cherry, Chicklet, or whatever her name is.”

  “It’s Candy,” she reminds me with an eye roll.

  Twenty minutes later I’m standing at the sanctuary doors. I’m trying my best to be supportive of Emma. After all, this is her big day. I just can’t help thinking about what will happen in about thirty seconds when I go through these doors.

  “It will all be okay, Lyn. You’ll see,” she says, comforting me.

  I’m the worst best-friend-slash-maid-of-honor ever. “I’m sorry, Emma. I’m the one who should be saying that to you.” I frown. “Emma, you are the best friend anyone could ever ask for and you deserve all the happiness you have found with Graham.” I pull her in for a hug, careful not to tug on her veil. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

  “I love you too, sweetie.” She pulls away and pushes me towards the door. “Don’t worry, Thelma, we will still be seeing a lot of each other, even after I move to Raleigh. Now, let’s go get me married.”

  The doors open and we line up to file into the huge room with cathedral ceilings that has been adorned with purple and white flowers. Flowers that match the dress I am wearing. The dress that Emma picked specifically because she thought it went so well with my dark hair. It swishes along the ground with its mini-train. I hope I don’t trip over my own feet trying to walk in it.

  The ring bearer and flower girl start their walk, followed by two of Emma’s sorority sisters and then Graham’s sister. When it’s my turn, I have to will my feet to move. This is Emma’s day, I remind myself. Don’t ruin it.

  I start my procession down the aisle and vow not to look up to where Graham and his groomsmen are standing. I look at the guests sitting in the pews. I find my mom and dad and focus on them.

  I have to close my eyes for a second to stop the tears that threaten, when it crosses my mind that this should have been my wedding. I should be walking down the aisle wearing white, not purple. And it should be Michael waiting at the altar.

  I take a few deep breaths and open my eyes. Then I do it. Because, it’s just like that accident you can’t not look at. I slowly raise my eyes and move my glance from the carpet at my feet to the steps at the top of the altar. I see the matching shiny black shoes of many feet standing side by side. My eyes immediately find the pair of shoes just to the right of the first pair. I know they belong to Nate.

  I take in the jet-black pants of the tuxedo and then the contrast of the white shirt, thin black tie and black jacket that hangs so gloriously on his broad shoulders. My heart is beating wildly and I’m sure those around me can hear it.

  When my eyes meet his, my heart leaps out of my chest and slams into his. He is staring at me with his mouth open. I think I see him say, “Oh my God”.

  Graham elbows him and smiles.

  He is so handsome in the tux that I can’t look away. His hair is longer than it was a few years ago. It curls up at the ends, just like in high school. Those blue eyes jump out at me and I almost forget where I am.

  The processional music changes to ‘Here Comes the Bride’. Emma was nothing if not traditional in her wedding planning. I snap out of it, drag my eyes away from Nate’s and finish my walk to the front.

  I should be thinking of Emma right now as she walks down the aisle, locking her eyes with Graham’s. But all I can think about is how I’m going to get through tonight with him in the same room. Him in the same room looking all delicious in that
tailored tux. Him in the same room with Candy—the porn star.

  I shouldn’t care.

  I silently vow not to care.

  I am so screwed.

  Thankfully, I’m able to pull off my maid of honor duties and I manage to get through the short ceremony without looking at Nate. However, when the minister pronounces them husband and wife and everyone claps, I can’t help but look at him.

  He has a proud smile on his face and is watching his best friend kiss my best friend. He shifts his eyes my way and gives me the smile. That smile. The one that haunts my dreams.

  Graham and Emma start their walk together back up the aisle.

  Oh, hell.

  This is what happens when you don’t have a rehearsal. I’m hit with the realization that I have to make the same walk with Nate. He walks to center stage and awaits me to join him.

  My shaky legs are barely holding me up as I walk towards him. He, on the other hand, looks like confidence reincarnate and smirks at me. He holds his elbow out to me and I take it. After all, what choice do I have?

  “Brooklyn,” he says in a whispered breath. Then he places his other hand over mine where our arms are entwined. My skin is on fire where he is touching me. There are little shock waves going through my body and I think it must be static electricity from my long dress dragging along the carpet beneath me.

  My heart is pounding in my ears. My palms are sweating. My dress that fit perfectly just this morning is suddenly too tight and I’m having trouble taking in a breath.

  We make it up the aisle and out the large doors after what is the longest thirty seconds of my life.

  I shed a few happy tears with Emma. Then we are whisked away for pictures.

  At the reception, we get through our toasts with a lot of laughs and a few more tears.

  When I see ‘Candy’ seated next to Nate at dinner I shoot daggers at Emma who is laughing at me along with Graham like they are sharing a private joke.

  That bitch. Why didn’t she tell me?

  Sitting next to Nate is the most adorable blonde-haired, blue-eyed little girl I’ve ever seen. Not a stripper. She looks just like him. His niece perhaps.

  When I look at Nate, he is shooting daggers of his own, right into the man sitting next to me.

  I had to bring someone. I knew I would see Nate and I didn’t want him to think I’m available. I’m not. Not to him. Not to anyone. Ryan was a safe bet. He and I have become close friends since I took him on as my business partner six months ago. He knows the boundaries. He knows my past. He has an incredible, understanding girlfriend. He is the perfect date for me.

  I try not to watch Nate, but when I look over and see that he is away from his seat I find myself scanning the room to see where he is. I catch him dancing with his niece. Or rather I catch her standing on his feet while he is dancing. She smiles up at him like he is her hero. He makes her laugh and squeal little noises that only a six-year-old can make.

  A good looking older man walks up, blocking my view of Nate. He says, “Ah, the illustrious Brooklyn. Finally we meet.”

  Finally?

  He smiles at me and I instantly know who he is. There is only one other person in the world that is able to melt me with that smile. The smile that makes my heart go into overdrive and makes my palms get sweaty.

  “Mr. Riley, I presume?” I take his proffered hand.

  “Please, call me Nathan.” He is assessing me in a way that doesn’t quite make me uncomfortable, yet I know he is sizing me up. “I can see now why my son is drawn to you. You—”

  “Pappy! Come dance wif me,” a toothless Candy interrupts.

  “How can I say no to that?” He swings her up and onto his hip. “Brooklyn, please excuse me, will you?”

  “Of course. It was nice meeting you Mr . . . er . . . Nathan.” I blush.

  I’m sitting here left wondering what he was going to say. Nate is drawn to me . . . still? It’s been so long. He’s talked to his father about me? So many questions are running through my mind.

  Ryan grabs my hand. “Looks like you need to dance, too. I’m just not sure I want you standing on my feet.”

  “Are you calling me fat?” I smile.

  “Hell no, woman. What kind of death wish do you think I have?” he jokes.

  We dance to some of my favorite songs. Emma let me help with the playlist. I made her swear no Nickelback. I still don’t listen to them, especially not when Nate is going to be in the same room.

  My head is resting on Ryan’s shoulder while we slow dance when I catch Nate staring at us. He looks at me with the same eyes he had when I was walking down the aisle. Then he shifts his eyes to Ryan and his face goes through a transformation from pissed to hurt to frustrated as his hand runs through that messy-yet-incredible hair of his.

  I turn away and finish the dance, determined that Nate will not spoil my evening. Who am I kidding? He has already spoiled it. Or I have. Because I can’t stop thinking about him.

  Stop thinking about him.

  My feet are killing me so I lead Ryan off the dance floor. I lead him right off into the train wreck I see walking towards us.

  Nate looks at me, takes a deep breath, and then turns to Ryan and extends his hand. “Michael, I just wanted to say you are a lucky guy.”

  Oh, shit.

  Ryan shakes his hand and says, “I’ll agree with you that I am a lucky guy to be escorting this beautiful woman, but I’m not Michael. Ryan Thompson.” He turns to me and says, “Michael, wasn’t that your fiancé?”

  Shit, shit, shit.

  “Was your fiancé?” Nate says. “As in, not anymore?” He raises an eyebrow.

  Ryan looks at Nate. Then he looks at me. Various scenarios simultaneously play out in my head as to how I should handle this. In the end, though, I stay silent.

  Confused, Ryan looks back at Nate and says, “Uh, Michael died almost two years ago Mr . . . ?”

  The blood drains from Nate’s face and he struggles to remember his own name. “N-Nate. Riley,” he chokes out.

  “Oh, shit . . . Nate Riley!” Ryan raises his eyebrows at me. I can practically see the light bulb go off over his head. He looks at me like I might collapse right here on the edge of the dance floor. “Well, this couldn’t have been any more awkward, could it?” He smiles. The bastard.

  I haven’t breathed a word yet. I don’t know what to say.

  Sorry, Nate, my fiancé died shortly after we had an almost-kiss and I told Emma and Graham to not tell you because I didn’t want you in my life. In fact, I don’t want you or any other man, ever again, so just leave me alone.

  “Ryan,” Nate addresses him, “would I be stepping on any toes if I asked to dance with Brooklyn?”

  “I don’t know, man. That is up to . . . Brooklyn, was it?” They both turn and look at me.

  “Fine,” I say, “one dance.” I walk out ahead of him onto the dance floor as a slow song begins to play. He takes me in his arms without even asking, placing his hands around my lower back. I put my hands on his shoulders and instantly his smell washes over me. That smell of fresh laundry and Nate that invokes so many memories.

  He pulls me closer and I have no choice but to wrap my arms around his neck. We dance like this for minutes without uttering a word. I don’t think I’m capable of words right now. He is stroking my back through my thin silky dress. My entire world, my sole focus is on the small circles he is rubbing with those large hands and the heat that is generating from his touch.

  I can feel his heart pounding on his chest wall. Or maybe that is my heart. He is matching my heavy breathing breath for breath. This is wrong. I can’t do this. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to muster the courage to push away from him and walk away.

  He blows out a breath. “Brooklyn, why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t Graham or Emma tell me? I mean, I’m sorry, I know it must have been terrible for you. I can’t imagine what you had to go through. But, what the hell, Brooklyn . . . why?”

  “Why didn’t I tell you
?” I pull back and look at him like he is crazy. “Why didn’t I tell you?” I repeat, as we stop dancing. “Because I knew you would try to lure me into your bed as soon as you found out. I was mourning the loss of the man I loved. The man who should have been my husband.” I take a breath. “But then again, you apparently don’t care about the sanctity of marriage since you threw your own down the toilet when you cheated on your wife.”

  He drops my hands like I just burned him.

  “I’m not a cheater, Brooklyn. I’ve never cheated on anyone in my life. My wife was the one who cheated. She ruined my goddamn life and then she ruined my goddamn marriage.”

  He turns and walks away, leaving a small crowd staring at me. I smile at them as a blush creeps over my face and then I make my way back to my table and to the security of Ryan.

  Chapter Ten

  I don’t want to release Emma from the big bear hug we’ve got going on. As soon as I do, she will leave me, and my life as I know it will change forever.

  I’ve taken the morning off to see them on their way as they leave for Paris. I knew this day was coming. I’ve tried to prepare myself. I have to let her go live her life with Graham. But I don’t have to be happy about it.

  “Lyn, we’ll be back in two weeks and we’ll spend the whole weekend together before I have to move.” She winks at Graham who gives her a knowing look. “Plus, we’ll be back tons on weekends and holidays. You’ll get sick of us.”

  “I know and I’m so happy for you guys. I’m just going to miss the heck out of you.” I wipe the tears away—again. Emma and I are getting all blubbery and weepy. Then there is a knock at the door and Graham springs up to get it, probably happy to get out of this room so full of estrogen.

  When we’ve pulled ourselves together and are putting another pot of coffee on, Graham walks back in the room. And Nate walks in right behind him.

  “What is he doing here?” I blurt out, not very nicely. I’m still pissed at him for stomping away after that revelation he made to me last night. He didn’t talk, or even look at me for the rest of the night.