No love.
No emotion.
No draw.
I felt absolutely empty. Madden wrecking into my life like he had made me realize I hadn’t lived until he came back. He was my first breath of fresh air in years.
“Andy, you okay?” Brandon asked, concern in his tone. Part of me wondered if it was concern for me or embarrassment. He didn’t take the latter lightly.
“Yeah, just needed a moment,” I called back. “I’ll meet you outside, just need to reapply my makeup.” It wasn’t untrue, but the thought of putting on a new layer of makeup made me uneasy.
A mask of horror was still a mask, it just came in different flavors.
Mine today: fake.
Once we got to the flower shop, Sylvia met us. She’d been the florist I’d spoken to on many occasions. Her eyes lit up as soon as she noticed me. We weren’t friends, but we were close enough that I called her Sylv.
Her flower shop reminded me of a rainforest. Unlike most corporation types, she had so much flair. The greenhouse she worked in reminded me of one at a museum where there was constant humidity and growth of plants only achieved by taking special care of them.
“Andy!” her singsong voice called out to me as she practically jogged my way. “It’s so good to see you, excited for the big day?” She wiggled her eyebrows knowingly and I laughed, forcing it more than the kindness I offered to Amelia. Sylv’s eyes were alight with joy, she always seemed to match the energy of the sun and right now was no different.
She could tell by the quick glance behind me. Fixing her face, she greeted Brandon and Amelia.
“You must be the lucky man,” she mused and Brandon beamed. He loved compliments like I loved tacos. Unconditionally.
“That’d be me,” he charmed, smirking at her. He reached for her hand, pulling her into a hug with affection that would make me uncomfortable. When we first started dating, Tays and Les mentioned how much he flirted with other women—telling me not to get with my boss. He was hot and I couldn’t resist comfort. So, I caved.
Now, I saw it for what it was.
Flirting.
If Madden offered a woman a smirk, a laugh, and the hug Brandon gave Sylv, I’d throw a fit like a toddler and not give a single fuck about who witnessed it.
“Your flowers are ready. We will trim and prepare them throughout the week,” she started talking, not just to me but Brandon and Amelia too.
I didn’t pay attention and found myself wanting to check my phone to see if Madden texted. He sent me several messages this morning, letting me know he thought of me.
But I didn’t reply, knowing it’d force me to leave.
Crazy thing was, Brandon didn’t even know I got a tattoo and that it was of Madden’s mouth, a brand forever on my skin.
I’d wanted to ask Madden to physically put it there himself and was sad when he realized he had the ability not to do it with lipstick.
I wanted to feel his mouth.
The smooth divots and curves.
The little smirk he wore too well.
The sneer when anyone looked at me.
All his expressions he hid from the world. I traced them to my memory time and time again, every little movement I knew by heart.
It was years’ worth of yearning for the unknown, my only desire.
Especially the last few weeks he’d been back in my life.
“Black is such a god-awful color,” Amelia threw out in passing. I smiled, knowing she’d say that. “How morbid does one have to be?”
“Mom,” Brandon chastised, but it only made my smile widen. He gripped her shoulder, reassuring her. I picked black because it fit my soul. Even if Brandon protested for ages, wanting white on white.
If he knew my dress wasn’t white, would he flip his shit? He hadn’t helped with any of the wedding planning. He didn’t even contribute to the conversation.
When Amelia saw everything I’d chosen, she’d have a mental breakdown, and a full wave of happiness hit me at that awareness.
She was a monster, but I’d show her mine.
We walked farther into Sylv’s greenhouse, where she kept all the wedding stuff. I passed so many beautiful plants not native to here. Some were from the United Kingdom, Australia, and even Brazil. She didn’t mention that, but I knew from my love of botany.
Following a bit behind, Amelia complained more and more to Brandon, her voice hushed but vile with degrading terms aimed at me. When Brandon peered at me apologetically, I shook my head, letting him know it was okay.
It was.
It brought me fucking joy.
Finally getting to the stuff she’d started for our wedding, I lit up. Yeah, the wedding part made me nauseous, but the entire gothic vibe I’d gone for felt right.
Looking at what she’d prepared, it felt like the wedding I’d have wanted if it was with Madden. And that train of thought made me close my eyes, hating myself for it.
“This is horrendous,” Amelia supplied, making me have to hold in my amusement. Sylv looked at me with concern and I offered her a glee-filled smile. This was epic.
“Mom, really?” Brandon groaned, his disappointment in her palpable. “You get to do so much choosing and she wanted these flowers. Can you calm down?”
Wow, he actually stood up for me. Surprise hit me as well as a little bit of fondness. Not for him particularly, but for the fact that it felt like he allowed her to walk all over me usually.
If he’d shown this initiative when I’d asked to elope instead of a fancy wedding, maybe I wouldn’t debate on walking away.
“She chose black and maroon. These are terrible.”
“And it’s not your goddamn wedding,” I bit out, holding my breath for backlash. She gasped, holding her chest like I’d slapped her.
Without looking at Brandon again, I thanked Sylv and left, finding Royce. “Hail me a cab, Roy. I need a fucking drink and not a second longer with Satan herself.
He nodded and pulled out his phone. “Anything for you, Miss Andy.” Those words reminded me of being a kid, in a big house, my only support being Royce and occasionally Madden.
Chapter Thirty-Two
I'm Made of Wax, Larry, What Are You Made Of? – A Day to Remember
Andy
Five days. I avoided Satan, and her spawn—Lily—for three of those days. Tonight, was the rehearsal and Brandon texted me at least ten times since yesterday. I called in sick.
He probably thought I was pregnant.
But truly, avoiding his touch, needing to be next to Madden, and being saddened not knowing how to be the bigger person and call this whole thing off made me uneasy.
It was simple.
It was Madden, right?
He left me before, though. The broken child who had two parents and two pseudo-parents die within twenty years of my life, it hurt something fierce.
I felt helpless.
Broken.
And I couldn’t imagine losing Madden.
It felt like pain quadrupled just imagining it.
It wouldn’t hurt much less if he decided he only wanted to fuck me and not actually stay. If anything, knowing he’d be with others, traveling the world, without me... that hurt so much worse.
I’ll be at hanger 289. Private jet. I leave in less than twenty-four hours, little demon.
He hadn’t texted me in three days, he didn’t reassure me or let me know he wanted me still, but this? It was his huge hurrah; it was him trying to get me to say something.