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Holly would hate me if I fucked Paisley, I think as we slip into comfortable silence. I can’t insinuate to Holly that she’d meant more to me and ruin the confession by taking Paisley to bed. If anyone found out, it’d turn me into a cliché and give the guys more ammunition against me.
Feeling the effects of the adrenaline wearing off and the alcohol settling in, Paisley lies her head on the table.
“Tired?”
She hums, popping up to rest her chin on her knuckles.
The high neckline of her dress stops me from peering between her breasts. I’ve only seen Paisley’s toes and her arms. Intrigued by her bravado tonight, a glimpse of Paisley’s tits would make it into my spank bank.
“I don’t drink a lot and wedding preparations make for a long day.” She sighs, sleepily. “When I convinced myself I could go through with marrying Gavin, I was also kind of looking forward to relaxing on our honeymoon. I haven’t had a vacation in a while.”
Images of Paisley in a string bikini, stretched out on a beach towel, fill my head. She arches toward my touch as I cover her with sunscreen. Paisley in my bed right now is a no-go. But I can still have my cake and eat it too.
“I tell you what; You help me get my friends off my back about not having a serious relationship, and I’ll spring for your trip.”
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3
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It’s after midnight when I tumble out of the car that Jake stuffed me into. I wave at the driver, who Jake ordered not to budge from the curb until I was safe inside my home. Turning makes me sway along the path to my front door. I trip over my skirt without my high heels on, stumbling and skidding to a halt when Gavin’s best man and a groomsman exit the apartment.
Each holds opposite sides of the sixty-inch television I bought Gavin for his birthday. The best man ignores me. I get pushed to the side. The frozen, dormant grass pricks the soles of my feet. If looks could kill, the local authorities would charge the groomsman with my murder. I watch them pass, noticing several open SUV trunks with Gavin’s belongings stacked haphazard inside.
I tread lightly back over to the sidewalk. Entering through the open door, a second groomsman shoves me with the corner of a box he’s carrying out.
Inside, the rooms of our shared apartment are ransacked. They’re removing everything of Gavin’s that isn’t nailed down. I didn’t know what to expect. I wasn’t even sure I could get into my home. So, I can’t say I blame Gavin. In his shoes, I’d have taken my anger one step further and trashed some of his personal effects.
My former fiancé is on the ledge of the living room couch cushion. My mother sits poised next to him, clutching my purse on her lap and staring at my phone, willing it to light up.
About to stand, Gavin says something I can’t hear to my mom. Her features pinch. She grabs ahold of his wrist, apologizing for my betrayal.
Apologizingfor meas I’m positive she’s done from the moment my mom and the rest of the congregation found out Jake Ballentine is my “secret lover”.
In the deepest recesses of my black heart, I’m certain Gavin’s whisper includes telling my mother it wasn’t her fault. I’m fortunate he sees it that way. My mom did nothing wrong.
It’s then that their eyes land on me. My mom sucks in a relieved breath, tears tumble down her pale cheeks. She glances between us, wanting me to set the story straight. To say Gavin was mistaken. The man she wanted to love and protect her daughter hadn’t caught me in someone else’s arms.
Gavin’s intake is harder and unforgiving.
I’m drunk as a skunk wearing a wrinkled and soiled wedding dress. My ratty, unpinned hair gives the impression Jake and I took a tumble in the hay. Considering Jake’s shirt and belt were undone, and I jumped Jake like a tick to suck his face off, Gavin has no reason to think otherwise. The chances he’ll forgive me are slim to none.
And what’s more, I’m not ready to forgive myself. So I won’t plead for his mercy. Not when Gavin proved his compassion by staying with my mother.
I open my mouth, but Gavin cuts me off.
“No.” He doesn’t yell. His unwillingness to let me explain is matter of fact. “We had everything and now it’s gone. So just… No.”
Unlike the groomsman that shoved me with the box, Gavin leaves a wide berth as if I’m contagious. And unlike when he was in shock leaving Sweet Caroline’s, this time the door slams behind him. His justified last word. Last action that screams how wronged Gavin was. He wants no part of the sullied stain of my duplicity.
It’s a good thing. Since my double-life is fake and I couldn’t explain it if I tried.
“You were so beautiful this afternoon.” What mom is saying is that my dark insides match my tattered outside appearance. I’m not beautiful anymore.
I nod, agreeing wholeheartedly that I’m a miserable person for putting my mother through explaining my disappearing act to the guests, and for having to rely on Gavin for support.
“Honestly, Paisley, what were you thinking?” My mother rifles in a kitchen cabinet. She finds what she’s looking for amongst the bevy of orange pill containers. Unscrewing a full bottle of pediatric electrolyte, thrusting it at me. “What would your father say? Jake Ballentine has no morals. He isn’t even from a respectable family. His father watched and approved of his wife taking off her clothes for a living before he… Never mind.”
