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Carla Byrd.
The woman he’s been dating for seventeen months now. Not that I’m counting. The longest relationship he’s ever had. Not that I’m keeping track.
She laughs as she moves next to him. It’s a tinkling laugh. I hate it. “Darling”—she eyes him—“you need to watch where you’re going. This body of yours is capable of causing serious damage.”
I hate that she knows what his body is capable of. I hate that she’s anywhere near his body.
Bradford doesn’t seem to register that she’s even spoken. He’s watching me intently, his eyes searching mine.
The connection between us might be tattered but it’s not broken.
When neither of us respond to her, she says, “Mom and Dad just arrived, Bradford. I need to speak to them before Lana does. I want us to be the ones to tell them.”
The ones to tell them.
He finally lets go of my arms. Nodding at her, he says, “I’ll be a minute.”
My breaths slow.
“Okay,” she says before smiling at me. “I’m sorry I can’t stay and chat. Next time.”
The ones to tell them.
She breezes away from us. I stare after her for a moment longer than I prefer. Carla is everything I wish I was. Intelligent, independent, confident. She’s a lawyer who is gaining a lot of attention worldwide for her work on international criminal law.
I can barely feel my legs.
I look at Bradford and ask softly and with more difficulty than I’ve ever had with any question, “What are you telling her parents?” Even as the question leaves my lips, I know the answer. I feel the answer deeply in my soul as it twists and turns and slices.
“We’re engaged.”
Those two words slay me more than I ever thought possible.
It’s in this moment that I finally acknowledge I thought that somehow we would end up together. I thought our timing would one day be right.
I’ve kept Bradford to myself and while I’ve not invited him into my daily life, I’ve lived with him in my soul. Men have come and gone in the time I’ve known him, but if I’m honest with myself, he’s the one who sat on the throne in my heart.
I swallow hard.
I dig deep for strength.
And I paste a smile on my face, because if I’ve trained for anything in my life, it’s this moment.Maintain perfect composure at all times in publicis the mantra of my existence. “Congratulations.”
The ballroom begins spinning.
I can’t breathe.
He looks at me with an expression that seems to be a frown but looks a lot like torment. We’re stuck in the middle of this moment when someone calls out to him.
Glancing toward the voice, he holds up a finger, indicating he needs a minute. When he gives me his eyes again, he says, “Happy birthday for tomorrow, Kristen. I hope it’s a wonderful one for you.”
I. Can’t. Breathe.
My heart splinters into a thousand tiny pieces as I watch him walk away from me. I briefly wonder how a person puts a heart back together. It’s not lost on me that in all the breakups I’ve endured, I have never contemplated this.
I’m not sure it’s possible to put my heart back together.
I’m not sure I want to.
