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Fuck. Fuck. Fuck... I inwardly groan, taking a deep breath.
I open my eyes to find not only Manuel’s dark gaze staring back at me, but Bordeaux is standing right next to him, his eyes piercing straight through me as well. Well, this is just fucking sweet, isn’t it? Manuel crouches to me, extending his arms to wrap me up and into him, but I quickly flinch backward. Bordeaux eyes us before walking back to the front of the shop, leaving us to talk.
“What are you doing here, Manny?” I ask, standing up as his nickname escapes my lips before I think better of it. Manny. The name I called him for years, the name I cried out in bed as he fucked me. The name I have been desperately trying to forget and erase from the darkest depths of my mind.
The nickname isn’t associated with my Manny any longer. It’s associated with hurt and pain and his selfishness that cannot be undone.
I look him dead in the eyes, shaking off my earlier screw up. I’m not going to let him know he still affects me. I will be strong.
I eye him up and down, crossing my arms. Of course, he looks better than when we broke up. More muscle, though he was decently fit before. Wedding diet? Who knows. I shouldn’t give a damn, but part of me wishes he had gained twenty pounds and started balding or something.
“I came to tell you about the wedding.” He shifts on his feet as I burst out into spontaneous, psychotic sounding laughter.
He’s truly a moron.
“A little too late for that, don’t you think? My parents got the invitation yesterday.” I gulp down the excess saliva pooling in my mouth, trying to force the lump in my throat down. I let my shock fall away as we stare at each other. The hurt on my face is apparent to him, I know this, and I don’t try to cover it up. I want him to see it, to know what he’s done to me. I cross my arms over my chest and he glances down at my tits. He’s not even subtle about it. I want to scream at him, ‘Oh, you like these tits, huh? That’s too bad, loser. You’ll never see these bad boys again!’
I’m losing it.
He clears his throat, refusing to look directly at me. “I want you to come, Isla. I really can’t imagine you not being at my wedding.” He pauses for just a beat. “And is that... Bordeaux Daniels?” He tries to inconspicuously nod in Bordeaux’s direction, looking star-struck.
I’m not sure why I expected anything more.
I forget where we are, that we’re standing in my brand spanking new place of employment. I feel rage bubble up inside of me. “Number one, you probably can’t imagine me not being at your wedding because I was the one you were engaged to, Manuel. So, yeah, no wonder you can’t picture me not being there.” I smirk my sassy, signature, fuck you smirk. “Two. Yeah, it’s Bordeaux Daniels,” I scoff, annoyed.
It’s been months since we’ve broken up but seeing him now, even after the time that’s passed, still hurts me in an indescribable way. I went from living with him and thinking he was my forever to never seeing or speaking to him. He started dating Emilia before my side of the bed was even cold.
“Please say you’ll come. Look, I get it. But just... please. You’re my best friend and I—”
Your best friend, who you haven’t talked to in months, the best friend you cheated on? This man is out of his damn mind. Lord, please give me the patience to not slap this moron upside his ignorant head.
“Sugar!” Bordeaux’s sexy, deep voice calling me that name sends a shiver through my entire body. I turn to him as he saunters confidently toward me, slinking his arm around my waist. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to Manuel?” He looks from me, over to my ex, and reaches his hand out. “Sorry, when you came in, I was just finishing a phone call I needed to get back to. Anyway, I’ve heard about you man. I think a congratulations is in order.” Bordeaux laughs. “Well... a congratulations and a thank you!”
Manuel looks as confused as I feel, and Bordeaux is suddenly an entirely different person. He’s morphed into an actor in front of my eyes. And a damn good one at that.
“A thank you for...?” He drops Bordeaux’s hand after what I can feel was quite possibly one of the most tension-filled handshakes ever, both of their knuckles turning white in the process.
“For letting her go. I wouldn’t be with her today if things had worked out between you.” He looks down at me and kisses my forehead. “Isn’t that right, shug?” Bordeaux increases his grip on my waist and pulls me closer.
My heart seizes in my chest. To say I’m surprised is an extreme understatement. For once, I’m at a complete and total loss for words. It’s like the entire alphabet has evaporated from my brain. What are words? I nod, attempting to stop my eyeballs from popping out of my head before I turn to Manuel from Bordeaux.
“Anyway, we’ll be there!” Bordeaux flashes a gorgeous, bright-white smile. I can’t help thinking that his teeth are movie-star white and perfect, and I hardly see him smile like he’s smiling right now. In fact, in the four times I’ve been around him, he’s never smiled like this. It’s normally that sideways smirk of his that I get. This is a huge, cheesy grin. “I’m her plus-one, obviously.” Another husky laugh. What the hell, Bordeaux?
All color drains from Manuel’s face. This is, quite obviously, the last thing he expected when he walked into the shop. I’m sure he never thought his Isla would move on, and move on to someone that is his total opposite. Not that I’ve moved on. But I’ll let him think it. And honestly, is there a better person to let him think I’ve moved on with?
Bordeaux Daniels. He’s a little more than rough around the edges, but in a beautiful way. I’m not sure if beautiful is the best word. Handsome? Drop-dead gorgeous? The punk version of a brunette Ken doll? A fucking cocky son of a bitch? Check, check, check, and check.
Manuel leaves as fast as he came. Bordeaux walks him to the door and turns around with a pleased look on his face.
Seven
Bordeaux
Eccedentesiast (n.) someone who hides
pain behind a smile.
___________
