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"I was going to say, for a beautiful woman," he finished with a peevish smile. There was no flirtatiousness in his words. He wasn't expecting me to blush and accept the compliment. He was just being genuine.
I dropped my eyes immediately, picking at the beads that adorned my bag. "It's just the dress, I'm sure. I'm not usually this glamorous."
His laugh filled the cab like the perfect song coming on Pandora, just when you needed it. "It has nothing to do with your dress, though it is lovely. Your beauty is in your tears."
I reflexively wiped my cheeks. I flicked my eyes back to the man, expecting to see some glimmer of a joke in his brown eyes. "What?"
The smile dimmed on his lips, but I saw the warmth radiating in every line and wrinkle on his face. "Anyone can take pain and snuff it out. Distract themselves from it. Rise above it. But many people are too afraid to cry. Somewhere along the way, we convinced ourselves that crying is weakness. But it takes strength to let it go. To be vulnerable." He glanced at me in the mirror, his expression solemn. "I'm not happy that you're sad, but I feel honored that you've shared your tears with me."
I opened my mouth and shut it as he pulled to the curb. I peered out the window and saw the museum and signs pointing toward the gardens. I pulled out my fare and pressed it into his hand.
He glanced at the money, his eyes widening. "This is too much-"
I slipped out of the car before he tried to pass any of it back to me. "Thank you, Tom."
I teetered my way toward the grass, Tom’s words echoing in my ears. Strength to let go. Powerful words, but I didn’t feel very strong. I felt weak. I felt alone. I thought what Xander and I were building was real. I thought I’d finally found my person. Could I have been wrong?
I leaned on a bench to pull off my heels, not ready for the answer to that question. I closed my eyes and inhaled deep as I planted my feet on the cement. When I opened them, I didn't care that everyone else but me was dressed for a day on the grass. They were lounging on blankets, nose in books, and eyes on their phone screens. A few of them even perked their eyes in my direction. I ignored the looks, sinking my toes into the grass. I found a shady spot beneath a tree and staked my claim. The corset made lowering myself to the ground an awkward process, but I did it slow and quite ungracefully. Finally down to my knees, I leaned back and focused my eyes on the sky.
Watching the clouds drift in and out of the branches, I sighed and whispered, “Strength to let go” and let the tears come.
Chapter Two: Xander
“Hey mister! You can’t stand in the middle of the street!”
On one hand, I knew that admonishment was meant for me. I felt the warmth of the sun battling it out with the chilly breeze that tossed my tie over my shoulder and rattled my bones. My teeth were on edge with every new horn blast that blared in my direction, or string of expletives that irritated cabbies hurled out the window as they swerved around me.
On the other hand, I was in some state of shock. Frozen. Sure his words were meant for someone else. I wasn’t ‘mister’. I was Xander Wade, one of the most powerful men in the city. Hell, during the reception, half the men clamoring for a minute of my time would have gladly thrown in their wife to seal the deal. Yet standing in the middle of the street, watching Penny’s cab fade into the traffic, I didn’t feel very powerful. I felt like I’d been, we’d been, chugging along, headed somewhere spectacular when a runaway train slammed into us.
She’d chosen me instead of the check. She’d chosen the possibility of something real and lasting—and now I was standing in the middle of the street like a crazy person.
Another horn blast screeched in my ears and I balled my fists, giving into the familiar indignation that simmered in my gut.
What the hell was wrong with me? When would I learn my lesson? Dating, romance, happily ever after, was not worth the fucking drama. First, Jenna appears out of nowhere, grinning like she’d just ran to the bathroom and hadn’t been MIA for years. Before I could tell her to get the hell away from me, Penny was fleeing the scene like I’d run into my ex’s arms in slow motion, complete with some sappy love song playing in the background.
And I ran after her.
A sinking thought punched its way through my muddled thoughts. Just like you ran after Jenna. And you remember how that turned out.
I cleared my face of every hint of pain and sorrow and fixed my tie.
“Hey mis-”
I snapped my head to the right and the self appointed traffic monitor clamped his mouth shut. I casually strolled back to the sidewalk, angled toward the hotel entrance like it was completely normal to stand in the middle of the street. Something in me made me pause and steal one last glance at the street. I wanted to see reverse lights, followed by the squeal of tires as the driver popped a wheelie and she spilled out the back. Spilled into my arms.
That thought is about as crazy as you running after her.
I marched back into the reception, pointedly ignoring all the interested gazes that followed my movements. Our little display had taken the stage: the bride cackling as she sat on her high horse, sure that she’d performed some public service by saving her sister from my web of deceit.
My anger waned when I met Victoria’s piercing gaze. I expected to see glee shining bright as her earrings, but she couldn’t hold my eye. She had sauntered over, victorious, with my ex waiting in the wings like some ace up her sleeve. She should have been in the center of the dance floor, filled with delight, but she looked like she wanted to flee her own reception.
Jenna’s voice seeped into my ears like syrup. “Where did your cute friend run off to?”
I ignored my ex completely, unready and unwilling to look at her face again just yet. The woman in white was first. “Can I have a word, Victoria?”
Ten minutes ago she’d glared right through me. Those cold blue eyes had been so sure that she had my number. Now, she didn’t meet my gaze. “I...uh-”
“Fantastic.” I led the way toward a corner of the bar that was populated by a trio of older gentleman twirling their wedding bands, eyeing the buffet of twenty something’s gyrating on the dance floor. They could care less about the impending one-sided conversation about to occur two seats down; one-sided because I had no intention of listening to a damn thing Victoria had to say.
