Page 75 of Undone

PART THREE

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Memories of Us

Present day

THE PLANE TAKES OFF, climbing above the evergreen trees as tall as the sky itself. From up here, I’m envious of the birds having this view every day. My nails dig into my palms. I’ve been fooling everyone but myself.

Months have gone by and I’m not even close to being over him.

The holidays came and went.

Rog and Dev wanted me to spend them with them, but I went to San Francisco instead and spent them with my new friends.

I love the Pacific Northwest. Its unforgiving heart beats like a drum.

But lying naked on my back, on a bed of soft pine needles—I gave my heart and body to a man who pledged his in return.

But he lied.

Took me to heaven in his embrace and dropped me at the curb of reality. Happily, Ever After is all Disney bullshit. I was a fool for believing a king of an MC could be my prince charming.

Now I’m, flying back to Chicago to attend a wedding, plaster fake smiles on my face, and act like I still believe in true love and happy endings.

Maybe they are real, for everyone but me.

The plane levels out, flying five-hundred miles an hour away from him.

Maybe when I’m back home, I’ll feel like I can breathe—knowing he’s on the other side of the country.

Reclining my seat, I shut my eyes remembering the first day we met at the MC’s end of summer party, six months ago. I had gone with Dev, as I had flown in for a surprise visit. I was only supposed to be there for two weeks, but once I saw him—I ended up staying. I dream about that day almost every night. If in my life, there was such a thing as a perfect day—that one was it.

I had stood transfixed. Dev kept moving down the path towards the clearing where Roger caught her in his arms.

He stared back at me just as boldly.

The pulse in my throat beat so fast, I knew he saw it. He looked me over from head to toe, missing nothing. It didn’t feel dirty though it felt like a claiming; as if everywhere his eyes touched belonged to him.

My knees felt weak.

My heart skipped, my libido went into overdrive as I studied him in turn. His black hair glistened like a raven’s wing under the August sun. He wore a tight white Henley shirt exposing his thickly muscled arms covered in ink. As we stared at each other his hand came up to whip off his sunglasses and I gasped staring at his wild and unforgiving face.

Eyes the color of melting chocolate stared in disbelief as if he couldn’t believe I was real either. He moved towards me, jaw working, eyes locked, and I knew there was no escape. From that moment on, I was claimed, owned by him. As he reached me, he didn’t stop but picked up my hand, threading our fingers together and tugging me away from the crowd of people gaping behind us.

Dev was caught up with Rog and I didn’t know anybody else here, so I thought, ‘What the heck? Why not go with this stranger hot as sin?’

That day turned to night… fires burned as he held me close under the stars and stared at me like a groom does his bride.

It was the most romantic night of my life.

When the flames of the bonfires died down to smoldering embers, he kissed the top of my head, took my hand, and led me to his private cabin on the lake.

Smith had let his guard down with me. I wanted to sooth him. I sensed he needed comfort and a woman’s soft touch. I was so stupid. Too nurturing. I gave him everything. Believed all his sweetly whispered lies. I remember his eyes the most. They were full of so much loneliness. He was a wounded wolf who just needed someone to understand; sometimes even beasts need a good coddle.

I took his rugged face in my hands and gently cleaned up his wild beard, unearthing a dark angel. My heart thumped harder than ever. Underneath months of scruff was a face so handsome it could sell millions of magazines.

We stayed up all night talking and making out in between.

But nights always turn to mornings.

Spells break.

And here I am, on my way to yet another wedding, always a bridesmaid, and never a bride. “To shitty luck in love.” I toasted myself, holding the cup filled with cheap airplane wine to my lips. My only saving grace was that I never told a soul in Chicago about him. I had wanted to keep him all to myself; not even wanting to share a single detail with any of my girlfriends back home. I did tell my family I was seeing someone, but never elaborated. I’d be wrapped in humiliation if I had told the world about him. And I have a feeling once I de-plane and hail a cab I’ll be right back where I started—alone in a frigid city.

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