Page 23 of Trading Up
There had to be something mentally wrong with him. There had to be something going on that we couldn’t see. Something had to have snapped for him to think that these were still his boys. They were mine. He gave them up for money.
His love was always conditional.
Not for her, but for us it was.
It was chaos, and eventually the cops sent everyone home. It was labeled as a civil matter, but they took the documentation and made a report about it. Jenson asked for a copy of the report so he could file a civil suit with the courts. Row packed us up in my car while Jenson promised to meet us back at our apartment to go over what he was planning on doing with the civil suit.
I just wanted this nightmare to be over. Just when I think our little bubble is safe, they pop up again. Like flies or gnats. After today, though, maybe vultures were a more apt animal to describe them. I just wanted us to be able to live out our happily ever after.
T W E N T Y-T H R E E: The Dress & The Ball
Sarah’s POV
The masquerade ball Row and I were hired to work was tomorrow. His parents came in a day early so we could talk wedding, do a few shopping things that needed to be done for the wedding, like my dress, that I couldn’t have Row there for. She and I were going to try to find my dress. We were keeping it simple. The wedding was going to be in the backyard of their home with just close friends and family. My father was not going to be able to give me away. His daughter from his wife was getting married that weekend, so he had to be there for her.
“You understand, right?” was all he said when he explained. I’d been understanding my whole life, and this was it. I said that he should have seen the limited contact I kept with him over the years as the thin ice it was that he was walking on. My future father-in-law offered, but I said I’d just walk myself.
We spent the day before half at work, making sure everything was prepped and ready to go to the venue tomorrow, and the other half of the day, I spent at the bridal boutique we’d made an appointment at. I tried on so many dresses, but none of them felt right. All of them were feeling way too fancy for the wedding we wanted. I slipped my work clothes back on and started to browse the racks, knowing time was of the essence since I hadn’t found the one yet.
I was looking through the racks when something caught my eye. I pulled the dress out, and a gorgeous, all lace dress with a modest scoop neck caught my eye. It had long sleeves and had a boho feel to it with its deep V-neck back, with some ruching where the bodice met the skirt, and the tiny brush train. I tookit back to the fitting room and tried it on. It felt perfect, the way it hugged my body, and the way I felt like I could see Row standing at the end of the aisle waiting for me. I felt this was my dress. I started tearing up, and when I went out to show my future mother-in-law, the only woman who’d shown me what a real mother and wife is supposed to look like, she turned around, and her jaw dropped.
“Sarah…” she said, tears filling her eyes. I nodded, tears spilling down my cheeks, past my smile.
“This is it.” I smiled, the consultant happy that she was making a sale. We smiled the whole way home, talking about how my dress was going to be the perfect thing to complete the day. We told the men we’d had a successful day, and that was it. I couldn’t wait for the six months to fly by so I could pick up my dress when it came in.
***
The venue was perfect. We had gotten there early, ready to make sure everything was running smoothly, that the food was being prepared properly. The Browning’s had really gone all out. It looked like a proper masquerade ball from the movies. The lighting, the venue, the décor. All of it was stunning and must have cost them a fortune. They invited all of the elite from our city. Lawyers, businessmen, judges, the police and fire commissioners, and their wives, as well as some older money. They told us even if we’re working, we need to be ‘period appropriate’, so we had to order garb from France, during the 1800s.
Mine was a classic Early Empire gown, very simple in a daring red with black beading, a matching red and black shawl, and gloves. My hair was curled, pinned, and tied on top of my head with a ribbon. I had black t-strap heels, low ones, so I didn’t break my neck while working. I was to be a guest and also a professional. Devereaux had a suit he was going to put on thathe looked dashing in. I told him if we could manage it, I’d like to meet him on a terrace so we could have a torrid moment, like they do in all the period movies.
People had started filtering into the venue, all of the servers were ready to go in their uniforms, and there were servers with drink trays, food trays, and trays for the discarded things. It was beautiful. A well-oiled, fine-tuned machine that Devereaux and I had managed to form. Row was standing next to me, his suit matching my dress. The Browning’s loved that we matched, and were so pleased with all of the guests complimenting them on the food, drinks, and service. This was what we wanted. They introduced us to everyone, who mentioned how much they loved anything we’d done.
“These two are a dream team. They manage to always make all my dreams for these events come true. And they’re perfectionists. I love perfectionists!” She gushed to everyone who would listen. Which was basically everyone on the guest list. I spoke about the different appetizers and desserts that were on the different tables, and the servers were circulating with their trays. Devereaux got up and introduced each course as it was served during dinner.
There was a group of musicians who played classical music throughout the meal, and after, while people were standing around. Then, the DJ they hired, the only thing from this century, minus the flameless candles they used, started off with a banger. The Monster Mash came through the speakers, and I saw quite a few couples head to the dance floor. They were kicking off their wicked night with a throwback. I stood off to the side, dancing by the punch bowl like the nerd I had always been, while Row was talking with a few staff members across the room. He said something looked off with one of the staff. Like his uniform didn’t quite fit properly, even though it had been tailored to fit weeks ago.
“Miss, may I have a word?” The voice sounded close and familiar. I felt my spine go ramrod stiff. I tried not to panic. “I just need to explain things to you, Sarah.”
I wanted to throw up. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck; he was standing so close. I tried to walk away from him, questions swirling in my mind. How the hell did he get in here? Why was he wearing a server's uniform? How did he get his hands on one? This was an exclusive event; there was no way he’d be able to bribe his way. Did he harm someone from our staff?
I started reaching for my phone in my drawstring pouch when he grabbed my hand, stopping me from walking away. I wanted to walk, to Row, to safety. Every hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and my gut churned, telling me this wasn’t over. I looked straight ahead for Row, refusing to look back at my ex, who was trying to pull me to him, but he was gone. Row wasn’t standing where I’d last laid eyes on him. Where did he go? I tried to pull my hand free.
“Please. Five minutes. I know I hurt you, but I need to explain. I need to make this up to you. I need you to see that I know I fucked up. That the grass isn’t always greener,” he spewed his word vomit at me like I should give a rat’s ass. People were starting to look. I shook my head, trying to stay polite about this. I still had to be professional.
“Let go of me. Now.”
“No. Not until you listen to me. I made a mistake, Sarah. I never should have left you. She’s crazy! I don’t know what’s happening, but I’m losing chunks of time. I moved out of our apartment two weeks ago with Cece. She’s insane. Please! I never should have hurt you! I never should have betrayed our marriage vows!” He was shouting now, drawing the attention of everyone in our vicinity. I tried harder to pry my arm from his hand.
“Please! I know what I did was wrong! Unforgivable! But I need you to forgive me. I still love you! I still love our boys!” He was pulling me closer to him, and I was fighting harder to free myself from his grasp. The music died down, and a sinister laugh came from the middle of the dancefloor. Will froze, looking over my left shoulder. I turned, slowly.
Walking towards us, dressed in all black with a veil over her face, was Paloma. She had a wild look in her eyes, and I was terrified. She was looking at us like she was sorting through her list of ways to kill us. She started slow clapping her hands, drawing the attention of every single guest. I saw Row come running out of the kitchen, phone to his ear, panic in his eyes as he searched for me. When we locked eyes, I could feel mine trying to tear up.
“The pitiful ex-wife becomes the homewrecker, I see!” Paloma shouted mockingly as she paused a few feet away from us. I stood there, stunned, and felt his grip slacken ever so slightly. I ripped my arm from his grip, taking several steps away from him.
“Don’t move on my account,” she said, looking like a smug kitty toying with its prey. “See, I figured it out. You’ve been sending him photos, taunting him with moving on, looking happier, and successful. You’ve been leading him on while using your boy toy business partner for financial gain and pleasure!” Her chest was heaving, like she’d just run a marathon.
“I have been exclusive with Devereaux since the divorce was finalized. I stayed faithful to that lying, cheating prick the whole marriage,” I said calmly, “I do not want anything to do with him. I filed for divorce. I haven’t been sending him anything. He’s been sending me messages. I only have them because my lawyer advised me not to block him.” I started to reach into my pouch to grab my phone again when I heard it.
