Page 114 of When Fate Breaks
21
PRESENT DAY
Blake
Iwatch her.
I watch her because it’s all I’ve been doing for the past two hours. I watch her because I couldn’t care less about anyone else in this absurdly extravagant Victorian-era party mansion. I watch her because it’s the easiest thing and the hardest thing in the world to do all at the same time. And it suits the fact that I’m a stubborn bastard and a glutton for pain all at the same time.
God, Evangeline.
She’s alone.
Well, actually, she’s the furthest thing from it, surrounded by more people than I thought inhabited this entire town. More people than I could ever come up with to come to my own wedding, much less my pre-wedding shower. She seems to know them all in the way that Evangeline simplyknowseveryone. Whether she’s known them for five minutes or five years (or since the age of five) her comfortable warmth and personable nature seeps out and latches onto every human she encounters, instantly inviting them in. Though I know beneath the surface that her brain is racing like clockwork and her gut is most likely questioning every action and interaction she makes, wondering how she could have done better, a stranger would never know it from the outside. She excels in everything in life, but especially in commanding a room. I know she’s had my attention from the moment I first laid eyes on her.
I scan the room, trying to locate her alleged fiancé that I’ve barely seen say one word to her so far the entire evening. Every time I’ve seen him he’s throwing back drinks with some douchey looking guys I can only assume are predictably his friends or finding himself in conversations with every other woman in this room except for the one that is supposed to be his future wife.
Ungrateful, undeserving piece of shit.
I squeeze the empty disposable plastic drink cup in my hand until it cracks. As I head to the open bar, I realize I need a glass of whiskey desperately. So, when the young pretty bartender bats her eyes at me just like she has been doing all night, I ask her for a Dr. Pepper.
“Sure thing, baby. And what’ll that be with?” she smiles.
I brace my hands against the counter of the bar, forcing myself to really look at her for the first time. She really is pretty. Honey blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She seems sweet enough. I’m sure we could have fun. She tilts her head the longer I look at her, probably starting to question why she flirted with me in the first place. I roll my lips into my mouth, searching the tan skin of her face. I dig deep. I try to find it. But it’s not there.
No spark.
She could be fun. She could be sweet. She could probably even make me happy.
But she wouldn’t be her.
No one ever has been.
“Just ice. Just Dr. Pepper and ice,” I say, finally answering her question.
The bartender says nothing else, just handing me my soda and giving me a smile I know she’s probably forcing after watching me stare at her and contemplate my existence in silence for about ten seconds too long.
I make my way back to my spot. Back to the wall I’ve been leaning against all night, situated behind a pillar that gives me a perfect vantage point but also keeps me almost entirely hidden. It’s kept me from Miss Lori Beth at the very least. Evangeline either has no idea I’m here or has done a very good job of looking everywhere but this exact spot.
I glance around the large room, forcing myself to look at anything but her and distract myself from questioning why I’m even here in the first place. I can see through the large white-paned windows that the sun has finally set, the magnolia trees swaying in the evening breeze. I spot Remy in the back corner, beer bottle in hand and talking animatedly with an older man, and notice him swaying nearly as much as the trees.
I make another scan for Evangeline’s parents, not having seen them yet. I still don’t find them, but assume they must have had to close up the store together like they always used to. Steph and Leah and the rest of Evangeline’s friends are spread about the dance floor, all surrounding her as they bounce around to the required song of every social gathering in Alabama:Sweet Home Alabamaby Lynyrd Skynyrd. A laugh breaks out, immediately catching my attention.
And, just like that, I’m looking at her again.
Evangeline’s head is thrown back, her nose scrunched in laughter as she claps her hands. Though she’s put on a good show all night, this is the first time I’ve seen her true, uncensoredEvangelinesmile come out. And it makes my heart feel like it’s doing somersaults in my damn chest. All of her friends cheer as she enters the middle of their dance circle, twirling around and throwing her arms in the air. The silky fabric of her dress swishes and melts around her as she spins, clinging to her in all the right places.
That. Damn. Dress.
I’m not sure what I did in a past life to deserve the cruel punishment that is that dress, but I’ll accept it happily. I’m sure I deserved it.
I wonder if she knows. Surely she has to. I can’t decide if I want her to know or not. What’s worse: her buying a dress in the exact color that she’s worn in my dreams for the last ten years on purpose, or it being a complete coincidence and that color meaning nothing to her at all?
I think I have an answer to that question, and it’s probably not the right one. Especially considering she’s wearing it to a party to celebrate her pending marriage.
To a man that isn’t me.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek as the song comes to an end, tossing my cup in the trash can next to me and turning in the direction of the backdoor. I need some air. Whether I’ll return after getting said air is still to be determined. I shouldn’t be here.
