The imaginary knife in her hand just keeps stabbing me directly in the heart. “Eleanor, please. Know that I never meant to hurt you.”
“Well, you did.” She sounds like she’s holding back a sob, and holy hell, that sort of makes me want to cry too. “Goodbye, Mitch.”
The call ends.
My phone slips from my hands, landing on the floor with a thunk. I sit on my couch, staring into space, going over what she said to me. What I said to her. What I could’ve said that might’ve made a difference.
I come up with nothing. I’m a liar. I lied to her. I hurt her. This woman, who matters to me more than any other woman I’ve met in my life, I hurt her. Destroyed her trust in me. So stupid.
Running my hands through my hair, I leap to my feet and start pacing. How can I fix this? I need to fix it. I can’t let her go. No way. No fucking way. She’s mine. Eleanor’s going to learn real quick...
I don’t give up that easily.
Twenty-Four
Eleanor
It’s Caroline’s wedding day and I look like I’ve been crying for the last forty-eight hours straight.
Oh, maybe that’s because I have been crying for the last forty-eight hours. Well, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration, but that’s what it feels like. The crying started Thursday night after I ended the call with Mitch. He never apologized. He never once said he was sorry for lying and hurting me. Seriously, what a jerk.
Friday was tough. I worked all day, and I was grateful for the distraction, even though I felt like I was in a semi-daze most of the day. Then I had to go to the wedding rehearsal and dinner afterward. The wedding is being held at the Wilder Hotel in Pebble Beach, of course. It’ll be an outdoor ceremony, the reception afterward in a giant tent constructed on the grounds, all of it overlooking the ocean. It’s going to be beautiful.
The rehearsal went smoothly. I’m a bridesmaid, and I’m walking with one of Alex’s college friends. He’s nice enough. Single. Very friendly. Probably looking for a wedding hookup.
Pass.
The dinner afterward was held in a ballroom at the hotel, and the food was amazing. At least, that’s what everyone said.
I could barely eat.
Late Saturday morning and we’re in a suite at the hotel, getting ready. The ceremony is at four, with photos immediately afterward and the reception kicking off at five. Caroline is sitting in a chair in front of a mirror, clad in a pale pink robe that is butter soft. I know this because we’re all wearing matching ones. The back of Caroline’s robe says Mrs. Caroline Wilder.
Just seeing those words scrawled across her back earlier when I first arrived made me tear up. Made me realize that this is actually happening. One of my very best friends is getting married today, and I couldn’t be happier for her.
But I’m also filled with so much melancholy, it’s hard for me to smile. Hard for me to feel joy. All the joy has been sucked right out of me, thanks to Mitch.
I miss him. I want to be able to forgive him, but I can’t worry about that. Not today. He’s tried to text me, but I ignore him. He’s tried to call me as well, but I ignore those too. I can’t talk to him right now. There’s too much going on.
What I really need to do is put my own issues aside and focus on Caroline. This day is about her. And Alex. Their wedding. Everything is in place, and though she was extremely stressed last night during the rehearsal dinner, this morning our bride-to-be is serene. Calm. It’s so nice to see. I need to take a lesson from her and find some inner peace.
Kind of difficult, though, when all I want to do is talk to Mitch.
We’re all getting our makeup and hair done in the suite, including Caroline’s and Alex’s mothers, other family members, and of course, the bridesmaids. Our dresses are beautiful. The color is a dusky blue, with a crossover front and thin straps that crisscross in the back. The skirt is gauzy, covered with delicate pearl-and-rhinestone embellishment that looks like vines.
I wish Mitch could see me in it.
One of my gifts to my friend is doing her hair for the wedding. This is why she’s in the chair and I’m standing behind her, trying to focus so I don’t screw up. She found a hairclip that matches the embellishment on the bridesmaids’ dresses almost perfectly, and I’m going to create a loose curl updo, with soft tendrils framing her face and the clip in the back of her hair.
It’s going to be fabulous. I’ve done this hairstyle before on other brides, so this should be a piece of cake. But considering this is for one of my best friends and I’m in said friend’s wedding, I’m nervous. My hands are literally shaking.
Clearly, I need to calm myself down.
“Do you need some coffee?” Caroline asks, her gaze meeting mine in the mirror.
“No thank you.” I shake my head. “That’ll just make it worse. I’m worried I’ll screw up your hair.”
“No way. You can’t do that.” She smiles, her expression gentle and full of love. “You are the best hairstylist I know. I’ve seen some of the styles you’ve done for other brides and for proms. You’re amazing.”
I hear what she’s saying, but it’s like it doesn’t compute. I just stand there frozen in place, my hands resting on her shoulders. “I don’t feel very amazing right now,” I admit softly.
“Here.” Stella appears out of nowhere, a champagne flute in her hand. She holds it out toward me. “Have a mimosa. It’ll steady your nerves.”
I gladly take the glass from her and sip. Oh, it’s delicious. The orange juice is icy cold and with that crisp bite of champagne, it goes down smoothly. Too smoothly. As a matter of fact, I drain my glass within minutes, making an “ahh” sound when I finish.
Caroline just watches me in the mirror, her eyes wide. Crap. I probably just scared the bride.
“I’m better,” I tell her after I set the glass on a nearby table and smile at her. Funny how the alcohol steadied my nerves, just like Stella said. “Okay, let’s do this.”
It takes me almost an hour and about a million bobby pins, but I finally finish Caroline’s hair, and it’s like a freaking masterpiece, if I do say so myself. Everyone comes over to her chair when I’m finished to admire my handiwork, all of them making the appropriate noises and offering gushing compliments. I bask in their praise. It’s just what I need to hear to fuel my confidence and make me feel better about today.
See? I know what I’m doing. I’m a competent, in-demand hairstylist. I am surrounded by friends who love me, celebrating Caroline’s special day. The wedding and reception will be magical. My life is full.
So why do I feel like I have a hole in my heart? And that it is somehow the exact same size and shape of Mitch?
Stella pulls me aside once I’m finished thanking everyone for the compliments and hands me another mimosa. “Girl, I think you need this.”
I of course filled everyone in on my Mitch-lied-to-me news. They were all perfectly pissed on my behalf, which I appreciated greatly. I gave the quickest rundown to Caroline, only because she’s getting married and has too many things on her mind already.
“Thank you,” I tell Stella as I sip from my glass. I didn’t eat much breakfast—a couple of apple slices—and I probably shouldn’t drink so much on a mostly empty stomach, but screw it.