Текст книги "That Wedding"

Автор книги: Jillian Dodd

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Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

Just like things with Phillip used to feel right.

I can't stay here any longer. I'm going to cry. I lay my favorites on his table and run out the door. I run into our office. I need to compose myself before I go running out of the building like an idiot.

I lean my back against the closed door. When I open my eyes, I realize I'm not alone. Phillip's sitting at his desk.

"Princess, why did you quit? What's this really about? I saw our questionnaires in your bag. Is that why you're so upset?"

"You went through my bag?" That should piss me off, but I feel like I have no emotions. I feel empty because I know there's nothing else I can do.

"No, they were sitting on top, wadded up. I saw my handwriting."

I sigh, look at my adorable Phillip, and tell him the sad truth. "Phillip, we're not gonna make it. We failed couple's counseling. We handle our conflicts with sex. We don't agree on money. I'm sorry, but I totally tricked you into buying the house. I planted seeds, got Mr. Diamond to gift us the money, and I tricked you. I have a sucky past. There's baggage there that even you don't know about. I pout to get my way. I probably do have abandonment issues. And I read our questionnaires, Phillip. We don't agree on anything. And really, I probably could've gotten through that all. I could've pretended we were gonna be okay. But you didn't rescue me from the spider, I found out I was a pity hire, and we don't have a song." I take the ring off my finger and gently lay it on his desk. "I hope we can stay friends."

I run to my car, get in, and drive away.

I end up at our old elementary school. I sit in the car and stare at the swings.

I have that same sort of numb feeling I had after my parents died.

Probably because that's what just happened.

Our relationship died.

Could it be revived? Could they shock my heart? Will it ever work again? Or is it fatal, terminal?

It must have been fatal because I didn't let Phillip try to resuscitate us.

Really, I'm not even sure what all I'm thinking.

Maybe I should drive to Kansas City, talk to Lori. Have her hug me and tell me I'm going to be okay. Break out the chocolate ice cream. And wine. Large amounts of wine. Or margaritas.

Shit. Speaking of margaritas, I'm gonna have to return my shower gifts. Most of them I haven't unboxed yet, but I've already used the Margaritaville blender twice.

All of a sudden, the blender seems so important.

If I give it back, it will all be real.

I'm gonna say it now. I hate when people say this because it seems so depressing, but here it is. Fuck my life.

Maybe it was just a matter of time.

Maybe I wasn't supposed to be happy.

It's like someone's played a cruel trick on me.

Give her a taste of real happiness, let her know what it feels like, and then snatch it all away.

Or maybe I'm an idiot, and he wasn't the right guy, wasn't the one. In that case, maybe I should be grateful that this all happened now, before we were married, before we had kids.

But it doesn't feel that way.

I mean the whole wedding, the venue, the way it fell into place. I really felt like it was a good sign, that I was finally, for once in my life, choosing the right path, the right guy, my prince, my happily ever after.

But I'm thinking fairy tales are bullshit right about now. They should really make fairytales more realistic.

Here's what I'm gonna do. I'll move to California and start a new life. I'll rewrite fairytales. I'll make a fairytale reality show. A behind the castle look at Cinderella and Prince Charming's lives. I think we'd all take wicked pleasure in seeing Cinderella scream, Asshole, at Charming, and then in a fit of rage, chuck her glass slipper at his head. Hopefully, it was made from like bulletproof glass, so it did not shatter and rain down glass on Charming's head and like disfigure him or anything. Oh, but if it did, we could change it to a Beauty and the Beast sort of thing.

Until now, nothing like that has ever happened between me and Phillip, but I did hear recently about a couple I know *cough, Katie and Eric* that were having a bridal shower. She had cleaned her house for three days straight because she wanted everything perfect. And after totally getting all the food, decorations, and games ready, she walked in their sparkling and spotlessly clean bathroom three minutes before the guests were due to arrive to take a quick pee, only to discover her prince charming's dirty underwear lying on the floor. She may or may not have thrown those dirty underwear at his head and yelled a few obscenities. She also said that was the last straw. That he didn't respect her.

What about the dude who wrote all the fairytales? Imagine being his wife. I'd be willing to bet she chucked a frying pan or two at him when he was sitting there day after day writing about love and little pigs, but he hadn't taken the trash out when she asked for three days in a row.

Maybe fairytales don't exist.

Really, I probably couldn't write the show anyway because I wouldn't know the ending.

What would happen after she chucked the shoe at Charming?

Would he catch it, laugh at her, make her smile, then lead her into the bedroom?

Would they have hot makeup sex?

Or what would happen if her and Charming failed couple's counseling and didn't have a song? What would Charming do after she set the shoe on the desk and ran out of the castle?

What would she do next?

Would she go back and live with the wicked stepsisters, be miserable, and live with mice and cats?

Would she end up marrying the guy that had guarded their castle and always had a crush on her?

Or would she move away from Neverland, no wait, that was Peter Pan, well that's it. Maybe she could move to Neverland and make Peter grow up.

And what would Charming do?

Would he go after her?

Would he try to get her back?

Would he have the birds spell out I Love You in the sky?

I have no idea.

What I really wanna do is call Phillip. He's the person I always run to when I have a problem, or need support, or help.

But I can't go to him about this.

I think about calling Danny. I adore Danny, I really do, but Danny is a fixer. It's like he's in a football huddle, and he's trying to get around the defense. He'd make me tell him the problem, and then he'd figure out a way to fix it. He'd make me review the play by play. We'd break it down. We'd figure out what went wrong. He'd form a game plan for what to do next. He'd strategize about the best way for me to handle the problem, so that I could overcome it and achieve my goal.

If I wanted to fix it, I went to Danny.

If I wanted support, love, hugs, and feel sorry for me, I went to Phillip.

Which means, I always went to Phillip first.

It's starting to get dark. The school kids are long gone. I realize I've been sitting here for hours. I get out of my car, walk over, and sit on the swings.

I look down at the swing on my charm bracelet.

The bracelet that's the story of our lives.

The story that's over.

At the end of this story, it just says, THE END.

There is no, And they lived happily ever after.

The bracelet suddenly feels very heavy on my wrist. Like it's trying to strangle me.

I have to get it off.

I slide open the clasp, take it off, hook it to the swing, and then go back to my car.

I'm not sure if I knew where I was going when I left the school, but I find myself at the entrance to the cemetery.

I haven't been here since the funeral, but I know exactly where to go. The spot my parents are buried is burned forever in my mind.

I get out of the car, trudge through the snow, and stand in front of it.

I read the headstone that Phillip and I picked out, but I never came to see.

Beloved husband and father, Paul Michael Reynolds.

Beloved wife and mother, Veronica James Reynolds.

I drop down into the snow and cry. I cry all the tears I've been pushing back inside me since they died.

After crying and crying, I feel kinda refreshed in a weird way.

I start to think with a clearer head. I think Mr. D might have been right. I haven't dealt with it. I thought I had to be strong for them to be proud of me. I thought if I didn't let it show, it meant that I was coping. That I'd gotten over it.

I don't think my parents would be very proud of me right now.

They'd probably be embarrassed.

I've made a mockery of everything they taught me. I stood up at their funeral and told everyone about how they lived. About how they appreciated daily life. About how they cherished every day they had.

I haven't done that.

I haven't been smelling the roses. I've been using the roses as an excuse to do whatever I want. Sure, I've had fun, but I haven't really appreciated the amazing things right in front of me. I didn't stop to smell the roses. I've been like a little girl that rode by some roses on her bike. I'd take a whiff, and then I'd swat the petals off with my hand. I wasn't appreciating their beauty.

I was destroying them.

I thought since my parents weren't here that it was okay for me not to give a shit. That it was okay to pretend like I could do whatever I wanted because the world owed me something.

It doesn't.

I think it's up to me.

I reach out and trace my finger across their engraved names. Above their names is a pair of angel wings. Phillip found the design when we picked out the headstone. I trace over the wings too.

My hand instinctively goes down to touch my hip.

I hate needles, but I went all by myself a few years ago and got a tattoo. Even though I'd never seen the headstone, I still had the rough drawing they made when I ordered it. I took the drawing and had the tattoo artist replicate the wings on my hip.

I didn't tell anyone I did it because I really wasn't sure why I did it. Eventually, Phillip and Danny saw it. The next day, they came home with matching angel wing tattoos on their ankles. I was so incredibly touched, I almost cried.

I think of Phillip.

Holding my hand in the hospital.

Holding my hand at the funeral.

Letting me sleep on his shoulder.

Taking me to the swings.

Always, always there for me.

I reach down to touch the cross charm on my wrist.

I panic.

My bracelet. It's gone!

Of course it's gone, you idiot. You left it on the swings.

I HAVE to go get it.

"I have to go!" I say to the grave.

The short drive to the elementary school feels like it takes hours. What was I thinking? Why did I leave it there? Some little kid's going to take it in the morning and not appreciate all it means.

All it means.

All it means.

The phrase runs over and over through my head. I squeal my tires turning into the parking lot. I cannot get there fast enough. I'm gonna get my bracelet, and then I'm gonna find Phillip.

I can't let him go.

I don't care what anyone thinks. I don't care if we're stupid. I don't care that we failed a stupid class. I don't care if it ends in divorce after six months.

I don't care.

Pastor was right that first day. I've been running away from Phillip every time things get tough. I always make him come running after me and make him rescue me. I've created drama on occasion, just so he'd rescue me because I like it. It's not fair to him.

Is that what my dad was trying to tell me in my dream? That Phillip and I never listened to anyone?

We didn't listen when they told us girls and boys shouldn't be friends. We didn't listen when people gave us shit about our friendship. We didn't listen when the people we were dating threatened to leave us if we didn't stop spending so much time together.

Our relationship has survived over twenty years because we didn't listen to anyone.

Not even my dad.

I picture Phillip in the tree. How his arm stayed stretched out, his hand empty, long after my dad pulled me away.

Phillip has always fought harder for us than I have. It's no wonder he's tried to move so fast. He's afraid I'm going to run. I don't ever want Phillip to doubt my love. This time, and from now on, I'm gonna run to him. I'm gonna fight for him. I'm so in love with him.

But first, I have to get my bracelet.

I tear out of the car and race to the swings.

My bracelet is gone.

I look around, but I don't see anyone. What kind of kids would be out swinging after dark?

Shit.

Bad kids.

Katie and I used to sneak out of her house at night and smoke on these very swings.

Maybe it fell off.

I drop to my knees and frantically run my fingers across the dark snowy dirt. I don't feel it. I need some light. I need my phone. What did I do with my phone? I think I turned it off and threw it in the backseat.

I turn around and run straight into Phillip's broad chest.

"You looking for this?" he says, holding up the bracelet.

Without even thinking, I hug him tightly with relief. I take in a big breath and am engulfed by Phillip's scent. The scent that smells like home.

"Phillip, oh my God, you have it! I thought I lost it when I was here earlier!"

"Don't act like you lost it. It didn't fall off you. I found it hooked to the swing's chain." He gives me that look. The look you get when you get caught in a lie. "Where have you been? Why did you leave the bracelet here?"

"Because I thought we were over, Phillip. I couldn't stand to look at it because it represented failure. My failure."

"But you came back for it. Why?"

I get tears in my eyes. "Because it's the story of our life."

Phillip looks around. "And this is where it all began."

I smile. "I know."

"It it gonna end here too?"

"Phillip, we really need to talk."

"Well, that doesn't sound very promising." He sighs big and sits on a swing.

"Why did you ask me to marry you on our first date?"

He grimaces. "However I say this, it's gonna sound bad."

"Just tell me."

"We were finally together, something I wanted for a very long time. I felt like I had to move fast. Get engaged, get married, before you could change your mind. I know I've been pushing you. You kept trying to tell me how you were feeling. I avoided it. If you wanna back out, I understand. I just thought if we could make it a few more weeks, we'd be married."

"And I'd be stuck with you?"

"Yeah, maybe." He looks at me with pleading eyes. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

"I make you horny?" I give him a teeny smile.

"Jadyn."

"I'm joking, but here's the more important question, Phillip. Do you have any idea what you do to me? You seem to think it's this one sided thing. That you love me more than I love you just because you think you figured it out before I did. I know everyone thinks I'm oblivious. That I didn't see it, but I knew. Remember when we were kids, and we'd stare up at the stars and think about how infinitely big the universe is and how small we felt in comparison? How it's like awe– inspiring?"

"Yeah?"

"That's how I've felt about you all these years. When you asked me to marry you in fourth grade, I prayed that I would. When you told me you loved me after spin the bottle, I wanted to say, I love you too. When we were in the chapel at the hospital, you told me you loved me again. I knew you meant it. When you'd take your shirt off in front of me, I tried so hard not to drool. Every night when you answered your phone with, Hey Princess, I melted. When you'd fall asleep studying in my bed, I never woke you up because I loved waking up in your arms. I kinda hurt Danny's feelings when I didn't ask him to sit with me at the funeral. I lied and told him it was because I was confused about our relationship, but really it was because there was no one else I wanted by my side. And I'm not dumb or oblivious, Phillip. I just felt so small in comparison to how big our love felt. I wasn't ready for it yet. That day we first slept together, I thought I was ready. I thought I'd grown up, but I hadn't. Since my parents died, I haven't really cared about anything that much. Win. Lose. Succeed. Fail. It was all part of the adventure, all part of the game. With you, I care. I care so much."

"Do you really feel that way?"

"Yes, I really do. Why did you come here, Phillip? To the playground?"

"What do you think I've been doing for the last five hours, besides calling you? I've been looking for you. Have you even checked your phone?"

I look down and shake my head no. "I was crying, Phillip. I haven't really let myself cry since the night of the funeral." I look at him and bite my lip. I don't even try to push back the tears. I don't think I could stop them if I tried. "I went to their grave."

His eyes get big. "You did? You said you were never going there."

I clutch my hand to my chest. "I know. I think maybe I didn't deal with it, Phillip. I think I'm broken. I've been pretending I'm okay, but I'm not. It still hurts, and I cried. I cried a lot."

Phillip chuckles and points to my face. "Um, I can kinda tell you've been crying."

"Do I look like a raccoon?"

"Maybe just a little." He pulls out a hankie and hands it to me. I wipe some of the mascara from my face. "You still look beautiful to me."

"I think I cried all four years worth of the tears I've been holding inside me. I miss them, Phillip. I don't think I'll ever stop missing them."

He nods his head at me.

"We did a good job on the headstone. It turned out really nice."

Phillip pulls me into his arms, the way he always does when I need him. "I know it did. I've been there a few times. You know, you don't have to be strong with me."

I nod my head as he continues. "And I'm sorry. I've been looking for you because I need to tell you something. I knew you were gonna blow. I saw the signs that night in Lincoln. You told me about your cold feet, about settling, and about all your bad dreams. I knew you were getting scared, but I kept pushing you. I'll wait. If you need more time, I'll wait. We can postpone the wedding. I'm done pushing you."

He gives me those eyes, those eyes that make me melt, that are like some sort of stealth ray that sneaks in and wipes out my defenses.

"Remember how I said you always know what I need?"

He nods. "Yeah."

"I needed a push, Phillip. I needed you to push me, otherwise, I wouldn't have freaked. I needed to feel like we were over to know that there's no way I'd ever let us be over. I never want us to be over, Phillip. Never, ever." I give him a little smirk. "Although we clearly failed couple's counseling."

"Couple's counseling was shit."

"You told me I needed to take it seriously."

"Maybe I was wrong." He tilts his head. "You're shivering." He stands up, takes his coat off, and wraps it around me. Then he leans his body into mine. "No wonder you're shivering, you're soaking wet."

"I was maybe laying in the snow when I was crying," I chuckle. I'm such a freaking loser.

He runs his warm hands inside my shirt to warm me up. I want to throw him into the snow and kiss him, but I can't. We have to get through this first.

"So I wrote down everything you said," he tells me as he pulls out his phone. I can see he's typed a little list. Only Phillip would've written down everything I jumbled out and written a rebuttal. I don't even remember what all I said. "But first, I have to know. Did anything happen when you were in the back room with Bradley? Did you kiss?"

"No, Phillip. I couldn't. He sort of leaned up against me, which should've felt familiar, but it felt all wrong. I think you ruined me. I don't think I could ever be with anyone else. I told Bradley if you dumped me, I'd have to become a nun."

Phillip laughs. It's good to see him smile. "Okay, good. So I made a pros and cons list."

I laugh too. "Like the one you made me in high school when you wanted to talk me out of sleeping with Jake?"

"Yep. And like the one I made when I decided to tell you how I felt about you."

"You made a list for that? Can I see it?"

"Let's stick to this list, okay? So, the pros. First one is that we solve our conflicts with sex."

"Phillip, that's supposed to be a bad thing."

He flashes me that sexy grin. "Yeah, I know, but I respectfully disagree with Pastor on that one." He touches my cold cheek with his warm hand. "Next on the list is that you know how to manipulate me."

"What? That should be a con too. I'm not supposed to manipulate you."

"That's where you're wrong. I love that you can. I love that sexy little pout. I love letting you think you got your way. You didn't trick me into buying the house. I wanted it just as much as you did. I was being stubborn about the money part of it, trying to wear the pants. You knew what was best for us."

"I hope the pants are on the cons list."

He looks deep into my eyes. "Princess, there's nothing on the cons list." Then he smiles at me and says, "Moving on. The next pro is that you have a past."

I squint my eyes at him. "That makes no sense either."

"You're the single biggest part of my past. I love that. And the last pro is that we spend too much time together. I love that we do, so maybe that means we're both a little screwed up. And that stupid questionnaire, so we answered the questions differently. So we haven't figured it all out yet. We will. We're different people, and we have different ways of thinking. We aren't the same. We compliment each other."

"Two messed up halves that make one perfect whole?"

"Exactly," he says.

"I wanna marry you, Phillip. I don't care what anyone thinks. In fact, tomorrow, we're going to our last couple's counseling session, and we're going to tell Pastor John his counseling sucks, we're getting married, and he can kiss our asses."

"We're also going to burn those chairs. Do you not hate those stupid checkerboard chairs?"

I told you he can read my mind. "I love you, Phillip. So, I'm in, like if you still are."

Phillip gets an excited look on his face. "Speaking of that. I found us a song."

"You can't just find us any song. We have to have a song."

He puts his finger up to my lips, shushing me, then puts an earbud in my ear. He loads up a song on his phone. "This is a country song by Keith Urban. I know you don't really like country, but just listen to it."

As I listen to the song, my mind is transported back to Phillip's spring formal.

He walks up to me, grabs my hand, and leads me out onto the dance floor.

He looks so incredibly handsome tonight. His broad shoulders in a black suit, the silver paisley tie he bought to perfectly match the silver dress he helped me pick out. The one he told me I looked so hot in, every guy in the room would be jealous of him.

He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me close to him.

The song is slow, and we're barely moving, barely swaying.

My face is nuzzled into the corner of Phillip's neck.

The spot where I feel like I've died and gone to heaven.

The spot that I once kissed trying to make another guy jealous.

The spot that I'm dying to kiss right now.

OH MY GOSH!

I rip the earbud out of my ear.

"Phillip!! Is this that song? That song we danced to at your formal? When you sang in my ear? Something about being a lover and a friend? Is this that song!!?"

Phillip grins at me. "Yeah, it is."

The tears come rushing back, but these are different tears. These are happy tears. Our marriage isn't going to fail. We're going to be just fine. "So we already had a song?"

"Yeah, Princess, we already had a song."

He puts an ear bud in his ear, then one in mine, restarts the song, pulls me into his arms, and dances with me. I cry happy tears through the song. All the words so sum up our relationship.

When the song is over, I wrap both my hands around Phillip's cheeks, look him straight in the eyes, and kiss him slowly.

A long, slow, amazing kiss.

The kind of kiss that feels like the stars.

The kind of kiss you want for infinity. Forget happily ever after. I'm going to be happy with Phillip for infinity.

"You know, I was going to bring you to this exact spot to ask you to marry me. Then I felt like it wasn't enough. Like it wasn't big enough, like it wouldn't impress you. I went way overboard. I'm gonna fix that. Do this right. The way I should have." He drops down on one knee in front of me, takes my hand, and says, "Will you marry me, Princess?"

I drop on my knees and throw my arms around his neck. "The answer to that question is always going to be yes."