Brooklyn

I stand on the pedestal in the fitting room of the boutique, staring at my reflection as I’m adorned in the wedding dress of my dreams, feeling like I’m watching a movie of someone else’s life. That’s how everything’s been lately. Like I’m simply going through the motions, doing what’s expected of me. No protest. No arguments. No life. I’m on an out-of-control freight train, too scared to jump off. Or maybe I just don’t care anymore.

Within a few hours of my discharge from the hospital, Wes’ mother was at his house, fussing over me, checking my scars and bruises. She tried to appear sympathetic, but I know the reason for her visit was simply to ensure they’d heal in time for the wedding. Wes looked to me, questioning, silently inquiring whether there would still be a wedding. I was too emotionally drained to fight it anymore. I still am, which is probably how I ended up here, three days before my wedding, having my final dress fitting, when just a few weeks ago, I was getting ready to break up with Wes.

I continue to stare at someone who looks alarmingly like me, except her eyes lack any life, her lips refuse to smile. I know what a broken heart feels like now. It’s the worst punishment one could be forced to suffer…my penance for how I betrayed Wes. I’m no longer living. I’m just existing, waiting for the time the universe believes I’ve learned my lesson and I’m allowed to smile, to laugh, to live.

“So you’re going through with it then, are you?”

A biting voice cuts through the silence and I snap my head in its direction. I suck in a hard breath when I see Molly standing in the entryway to the fitting room, her arms crossed in front of her stomach.

“How did you know where I was?” I ask in an even voice once my initial surprise wears off.

“Considering you haven’t answered any of my calls and it appears as if you’ve moved out of your place, I reached out to Ana.” She heads toward me, her blue eyes fierce, a stark juxtaposition to the lack of emotion in mine. “She was nice enough to tell me you had your final dress fitting today. As I’m sure you can imagine, my jaw fell to the fucking floor.”

Noticing the tension building in the room, the seamstress gets up from where she’s checking the small train. “I’ll give you two some privacy. The last adjustments are perfect. No need to make any more.”

I force a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” She scurries away.

“It looks good, for what it’s worth. But you’re walking down the aisle to the wrong person.”

I sigh, stepping off the pedestal, bunching the fabric in my hands as I head toward the private dressing area. “No, I’m not. I’m walking toward the person I should have been all along.”

“How could you think that? Drew loves you. I’ve never seen him so depressed, even after Carla left him.”

“He has a funny way of showing his love.” I start to duck into the dressing area, but Molly jumps in front of me, preventing me from running away from this conversation, one I’ve been avoiding for weeks.

“You need to pull your head out of your ass, Brooklyn. I love you, but you are so much smarter than this. You know as well as I do there’s nothing going on between Drew and Skylar. He found out she put Carla up to filing that petition for custody. He was at that game to get answers, confirmation of his suspicions. This sort of information could help him keep custody. When it comes to those girls, you know damn well Drew has a tendency to be blind to everything else…even prior commitments.”

I readjust my posture, waving dismissively. “That doesn’t matter. This entire ordeal has helped me realize something I’ve been in denial about for years.”

“Oh really? And what’s that?”

“That no matter how hard I try, I’ll never be able to trust him.”

“And what about Wes?” Her fiery eyes bore into me, her attack relentless, regardless of what I do or say. “Does he still trust you? Or did you not tell him about you and Drew?”

I narrow my gaze on her, my lips forming a tight line. “I told him. I was honest. He found it in his heart to forgive me.”

“Huh. Imagine that.” A vein in her forehead throbs as she cocks her head to the side.

“What?”

“No.” Molly brushes me off. “Must be nice to be with someone who can forgive so easily, not hold a grudge for nearly twenty years because of one misunderstanding.”

“What are you talking about?” A chill runs down my spine, my heart beating faster than it has in weeks…making me feel more alive than I have in weeks.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Brooklyn.” Her voice is a harsh whisper, the seconds seeming to stretch as she closes the distance between us once more. “I know about the night of Brody Carmichael’s party.”

My eyes widen, my mind racing. “Wha—”

“I know Drew stopped you from taking off your bra in front of a room of horny teenage boys.”

“Everyone heard about—”

“I also know he kissed you.” She pauses, allowing her words to linger in the air. “And I know you kissed him back. Your first real kiss.” A slight smile crosses her face as she grabs my hands in hers, her anger waning. For the first time since the attack, I feel something other than the crushing heartache as the memory of that night returns with such clarity, it could have happened last night, not seventeen years ago. “And I know he made you a promise…to be your first.”

My momentary happiness dissipates as I’m reminded of my first heartbreak, one I hope to never relive. I yank my hands from hers. “A promise he broke, the first of many.”

Reaffirming my resolve that this is the right decision, I continue back toward the dressing room. Able to feel her eyes on me, I pause, glancing over my shoulder.

“I know it’s stupid because it was years ago, but when he broke that promise, he did more than break my heart. He crushed my ability to ever believe a word he said again.”

“So you think the answer is marrying someone you don’t love?”

“Wes loves me. And I love him. It may not be butterflies and fireworks, but the type of love we share is enough for me.” I hold my head high, doing my best to hide any indecision or vulnerability.

“Is this Brooklyn talking, or someone else?” she asks.

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve been friends for years, Brook. Years. Your father can be a bit overbearing. We all know that. So I want to know if this love you claim for Wes is real, or if someone else is insisting you love him.”

I blink repeatedly, my lips parting, on the verge of breaking down and baring my soul to Molly. Tell her I shut down, that I’m confused, that I don’t want to be here. But I’m not quite sure where I want to be, either.

“I’m sorry,” I say, avoiding her question. “I understand if you no longer want to be at the wedding, since you obviously don’t support it. I won’t harbor any hard feelings.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she hisses, throwing her arms up in frustration, stomping from me. Just as she’s about to turn the corner into the showroom, she stops, meeting my eyes.

“You know, I used to think Drew didn’t deserve someone as caring and compassionate as you.” Her voice is soft, solemn. Then her eyes harden, her mouth turning into a sneer. “I was wrong. You don’t deserve someone as caring and compassionate as Drew.” She whirls around, storming away.

“I know I don’t,” I whisper.