Present…
I THOUGHT I HAD PREPARED for this week’s misery. I knew I was going to see him again, and there would be no way to avoid the inevitable. We’re walking down the aisle in my sister’s wedding Saturday, which means, we’ll be forced to spend time together.
What happened at Amelia’s engagement party was a mistake of mass proportion.
I’d had too much to drink. I was lost in the moment of my sister’s demise in agreeing to get married in the first place. Jaxson of course was there, playing the role of my best friend as he always does.
Teasing. Tormenting. Playful. Fun.
I’ve crushed on him since the first time we set eyes on each other. I’ve had boyfriends through the years, some serious but most not. Yet, none have ever been given the privilege to know me as Jax does.
He understands who I am without my ever having to explain. He gets what I’m thinking, no matter how crazy. I never have to justify myself to him at all.
But that night, after Jaxson used his hands as a vessel to reach my soul, my first reaction was to run. To get away from the only person in my entire life who had the power to hurt me beyond repair. To crush my life’s balance. To rip away the safety net I consider our friendship to be.
I can’t live without Jaxson. As I’ve witnessed, starting with my parents, then eventually the few I call my friends, intimate relationships don’t last. They crumble, leaving those involved to suffer in the wake of memories left behind. I can’t lose Jaxson. The thought itself is crippling.
So with this thought in the forefront of my mind, I ran. I left him standing in that room—hurt, pissed, and alone. I flew as fast as my feet could carry me and didn’t look back.
Once enough time had passed, I attempted a few calls in hope to salvage anything we once had.
Jaxson’s silent treatment since then has been not only severing, but final.
The stark reminder of where we’ve come to be was on his face as I entered the front door to this ridiculous mansion.
His expression wasn’t civil, angered, or pained.
No.
Jaxson’s eyes were cold, the rest of his face was blank. In that very second, I learned the ultimate power of indifference. How insignificant he’s made sure I am to him, and how unimportant he wants me to stay.
And fuck my life; nothing has ever hurt more. Not even my parents’ divorce.
Three days.
Once this is all over, I can escape back to my life at the lake. To my job working with kids at Mom and Mason’s gym. I can go back to being the older sister, the little sister, the daughter, the friend. I’ll retreat to my bedroom, my space, my safe haven from the world.
Three fucking days.
My Mom, Mason, his family, and the rest of mine, along with the entire wedding party are settled within this huge resort. Or we all will be anyway, once the rest of the wedding party arrives tomorrow. Some of the bridesmaids are bringing their men. Some of the groomsmen are bringing their women.
Me? I’m alone. I have a room to myself at the farthest end of the house, if only so that Amelia and her friends don’t have to tolerate my presence.
This is Amelia’s wedding, Averie. Please have patience and try to understand how stressful this may be for her, my mom had pleaded as I stood in my room packing my bags.
Respect your sister and your mother. Don’t act out, Mason had scolded before I’d so much as done anything wrong.
During these overly dramatic, but well-rehearsed lectures, no one bothered to acknowledge the fact that Amelia doesn’t want me here.
“You really don’t want anything to do with this, do you?” my sister questions, and I turn from the window of my assigned bedroom.
She’s standing in the door, leaning her shoulder against the jamb. Her arms are crossed over her chest. She’s dressed as she usually is—a clean, pressed shirt and nice jeans. Her hair is straight and she’s got on just enough lip gloss to claim she’s wearing makeup.
She’s also wearing a disgusted scowl that even in all our years of living together, I hate more now than ever.
“I never said I didn’t want anything to do with this,” I return, moving my gaze out the window and over the mansion’s grounds.
Amelia’s soon-to-be mother-in-law insisted on hiring Jen Beckworth, a semi-famous and grossly expensive, wedding planner. Because of this, not one thing has gone according to my sister’s ideal plan. Not the engagement party, wedding shower, bachelorette party, or the time, location, and date for the event itself.
Part of me feels sorry for Amelia as knowing my sister, this disorder must be slowly killing her. The other part of me can’t muster up the energy to care.
“For one weekend, could you at least try to act interested in my life?” she snaps.
Ouch.
“Sure,” I counter. “As long as you at least try to understand why I’m not.”
With as much time that’s passed, a person would think I’ve reflected, come to terms with her marrying her college sweetheart, and for the life of me, I’ve tried.
Last Christmas, Brayden Paul Wills III got on one knee in front of my entire family and asked Amelia Terese Dyer to marry him.
At the time, they were both set to graduate in the spring. He from law school, she from the local university. Brayden insisted they carry forward with plans for a summer wedding.
Amelia readily agreed to wed Brayden, professing her love for him and all that.
Eye-roll and gag.
He’s a good guy and all, there’s no disputing this. However, he’s also nearly an exact replica of our father. As a twenty-nine-year-old criminal defense attorney, following in his father and stepfather’s footsteps, he works to prove himself. Too hard. Too many hours. And from what I know of him, he’s not interested in much, other than how to win a case.
The wedding plans began mere minutes after Amelia said yes. As in, as soon as my mom cleaned her face up from all her happy tears, she stole Amelia out from everyone else. The two took off to Mom’s bedroom where they stayed huddled for hours.
“I’d ask you what your problem is, but I don’t have it in me right now to care,” Amelia presses, her tone terse.
As kids, Amelia and I looked somewhat alike. Now, she keeps her hair just past shoulder length where mine is still long. Her clothes are safe and reserved, where mine are still casual and random. Her demeanor is quiet, keeping her thoughts to herself. I’m still me, never worrying much to do either.
My sister is the epitome of a woman who has her whole life ahead of her. Whereas, I’m a hot mess, hoping something sparks and my world clicks together like others I’ve heard the same about.
With Amelia’s bachelor degree in education, her job as a special education teacher, and the house her husband’s parents just purchased as a wedding present, she’s ready for whatever comes next.
As selfish as this may sound to others, who don’t understand what our life was like when we were young, I hate that my sister is getting married. Hate she’s seemingly settling for the first man who gave her any of his time.
Just like our mother.
“There’s no problem, Amelia,” I flip back. “You have a lot going on this week. My plan is to stay out of your way.”
Amelia utters something under her breath, I’m sure directed to how intolerant of me she is.
“Isn’t that what you want?” I broach. “For me not to be in your way?”
After my parents’ divorce, some expected Amelia and I to find common ground. Instead, we ended up drifting further apart. Amelia had her friends, her academic career to consider.
I never had either. But I did have Mason.
Soon after he came into our lives, I pretty much promoted Mason to the role of best friend. Whether he felt the same about me, I don’t know. However, I knew after our experiencing a terror of fear together, in the face of that idiot who stabbed him, Mason would walk through fire for any of us.
What’s that say, if not best friend?
“Are you going into town with me and Mom today?” Amelia queries.
“What are you going to town for?”
With Amelia’s tone moving to easy, she states, “To pick up the bridesmaids’ dresses. Then we’re planning a late lunch.”
I blink at her invitation. Turning toward her, I find her expression hopeful.
The dresses chosen for the bridesmaids were an unexpected surprise. Elegant cream with subtle light-colored overlay mixed in, the hem hitting mid-calf. Delicate and not over the top as I figured they would be.
“Sure. I’ll go,” I reply.
“Good,” she returns, half-smiling, half-nervous. “Dad called. He and Sibyl are coming in tomorrow morning.”
My dad hasn’t had much to say about Amelia’s wedding. After our parents’ divorce, he and Amelia had a difficult time coming to terms. She resented him for leaving our family before officially leaving. With passing time, she’s gotten better at tolerating his existence, going as far as to have dinner with him and his new wife—once.
I’ve forgiven my parents, but haven’t forgotten.
His and Mom’s decisions have taken a toll on both my sister and me. We’re leery of trusting those outside our family.
Growing up, they were good parents—good people—just not always to each other.
Taking a glance around my room, Amelia says, “I’ll wait for you downstairs.”
“Okay.”
Before walking out the door, Amelia stops midstep and turns. I lift my brow, urging her to say what’s on her mind.
“I know you don’t approve I’m getting married, Averie,” she starts, hesitant. “But Brayden is a good guy.”
“You’re marrying him because he’s a good guy?” I rally back, causing her to frown.
“I’m marrying him because we love each other and want to spend the rest of our lives together.”
“Romantic,” I counter with a grimace, unsure what else to say.
Amelia inhales sharply but holds her composure. “I hope one day you’ll be happy for me.”
Under her scrutiny, I fidget. I can’t muster a lie. I’m not happy and I don’t see how I ever will be.
“I vote Mexican for lunch,” I return in lieu of sentiment. “And I called it first so it’s happening.”
Amelia’s lips thin, but her grimace is a lie. She rolls her eyes, ever dramatic. She wants to smile, but holding true to our dynamic, she doesn’t.
“Also,” she says. “You might want to grab a safety helmet for the drive to town.”
What?
“A helmet?”
Nodding, she really does smile. “Jaxson’s driving.”
There it is. The inevitable. Fuck.
Shrugging at my peril, she claims, “Not my doing. Apparently, Mason made the call just this morning, and of course Mom agreed.”
Oh, of course Mason has his goddamn hands in this. And of course my mother agreed.
Damn it.
My plan of dodging Jaxson has been laid to waste from the first hour I arrived.
Sighing, pulling my hair up from my neck, I tell Amelia, still standing at the door, “I’ll be downstairs in five.”