Page 21 of I Do, You Don't
I nod, relief and guilt twisting in my stomach. I don’t want trouble. But at least I’m not alone in this.
Drew walks in at the perfect moment. She’s my sister. My protector.
“Drew,” I breathe, the tension in my chest loosening.
She spots me instantly, her smile warm and familiar. She walks over, arms open, and I let her pull me into a hug, resting my head on her shoulder for just a second.
“You look like you could use a break,” she says, pulling back. “Pie?”
“I could definitely use some pie.”
My boss nods toward me. “Take a break, Lara.”
Drew and I sit with our pie, and for the first time all day, I breathe.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Gideon watching. I don’t look back.
“Did he ever apologize?” Drew asks, her voice low. “Or tell you why he left you at the altar?”
“No,” I say softly. My heart cracks again.
“Scumbag,” she mutters. “Bringing her here. Rubbing it in your face. Coward.”
I smile faintly. “Someone call Taylor Swift.”
Drew laughs, but her expression shifts. “Speaking of angsty stories, I ran into Calvin on the way here. He wanted me to give you this.”
She handsme a crumpled note. My stomach drops.
The truth will come out; be ready.
I stare at the note, the weight of Calvin’s words pressing down. I know what it means. I know it’s about him being my brother. But I can’t face it. Not now.
Without thinking, I crumple the paper and toss it in the trash. The sound feels too final. Like a betrayal. But it’s the only way I know to hold myself together.
I return to work, forcing my focus. But as I pass the bin, I catch Gideon’s eyes flick toward it. My heart skips. He saw. Or he suspects.
His gaze lingers a beat too long, like he’s trying to piece something together.
I force myself not to react. Not here. Not now. This is my job. My space. And I need it—especially after he left me with the bills for a wedding that never happened.
Chapter 8
Lara
After work, I stagger through the front door, exhaustion clinging like a second skin. The day was a blur of forced smiles and hollow conversations. Every minute dragged, and all I could think about was what Gideon left behind, an emptiness where he used to be.
I collapse onto the couch, the ache in my chest settling like an old wound. It’s been weeks since he left me at the altar, yet the pain hasn’t dulled. If anything, it’s sharpened, an ever-present reminder that everything I believed about love was a lie.
I close my eyes, and there he is: his voice, his arms, the scent of his cologne. The way his heartbeat once steadied mine. And then, just like that, he’s gone.
They walked into the diner just after the lunch rush, Gideon and Delilah. Together.
They slid into a booth as if they’d done it a hundred times before, as if it was theirs now. As if I had never existed.
I poured coffee. Took orders. Wiped counters. All the while, I felt like I was floating outside my own skin, watching a life I used to live play out without me.
It was the first time I’d seen him since the wedding. Since he left me.
