Diary of a Wedding Planner in Love (Tales Behind the Veils Book 2) (10 page)

"Cabe, I love you."

His head popped up, and his eyes met mine. For a brief second, I thought I saw a light there. A glimmer. A hope. But then he shook his head and walked toward the door.

"Don't do that, Tyler. Don't say that to manipulate me or force something to happen."

"I'm not. I do love you."

He turned back to face me, his hand on the doorknob.

"Tyler, don't. Just don't. If we share those words, I want it to be because we're sure of what we're saying. What we're promising. I need to be sure. I need you to be sure. Can you please just give me some time? I'm not Dwayne. I'm not getting married to anyone else next month. I'm not saying I don't care about you or I never want to see you again. I just need some time. Okay?"

What could I say? What option did I have? No? No, you can't have time? You have to love me right now? You have to know right this minute that we're supposed to be together, and you need to be fine with it.

I had no choice but to let him go. To let the last pieces of my heart shred away from me as he carried it with him down the stairs.

I crumpled into a heap on the floor and stayed there until I woke up about an hour ago. Late for work and not really giving one hot damn.

Well, that's not true. I give a damn. I'm taking a shower now and getting ready to go in. I called Laura and told her I wasn't feeling well and would be late. So, I give a damn, but in the grand scheme of life, none of it matters as much as it did before last night.

February

Sunday, February 2nd

I spent the entire weekend curled up in a ball in Melanie's guest bed. The first weekend I've had off over in a month and I was completely bedridden with grief. I don't give a damn how old you are and how much life experience you've acquired, break-ups suck.

I haven't heard from Cabe since he left my apartment on Tuesday night, and it’s like an eclipse completely blocked out the sun.

I spent Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday dodging client phone calls, staring at my computer screen, and crying behind my closed office door.

At first, Chaz gave me a hard time, but it took exactly one complete hysterical breakdown in his presence to shut him the hell up. He even brought me a cheap bouquet of flowers on Friday. One of those they sell in the grocery store check-out line, but it was the thought (and the apology) that counted.

Mel seemed almost as devastated as I was. She had practically planned the wedding and named the babies Cabe and I would have. She even teared up right along with me when I told her what had happened. Well, as much as I could. I don't even fully understand it, so how could I tell her?

She insisted I come home with her for the weekend. I didn't even bother to go pack clothes. I stopped and bought a toothbrush on the way to her house and moved into the guest room, emerging only to use the bathroom and refill my water glass.

Mel and Paul pretty much tiptoed around the house all weekend. They whispered in hushed tones just outside my door, and occasionally they would knock and offer me food, but I couldn't eat. I just pulled the shades, flung a blanket over the curtain rod to block out more light, and slept every minute I could.

I woke up every couple of hours. The first few seconds I would be disoriented, unsure of where I was. But then I would remember, and the whole situation would come rushing back and I'd start wailing again.

Finally, I reached a point this afternoon where I wanted a shower more than I wanted sleep. So I climbed out of my dungeon and ventured down the hall to the living room.

"Mel." Paul said, looking at me like I was an escaped quarantine patient. "Mel!" Louder this time.

"What?" Melanie came through the swinging half door from the kitchen scowling at him. Her expression changed as soon as she saw me, and she rushed over to wrap me in a hug. "Oh honey. Do you want something to eat? Something to drink? What can I get you? Paul, get her something to drink. Fix her something to eat. What do you want, honey? Paul, go make her something."

Paul stood and took a couple of steps toward the kitchen, but his gaze never left me and it never lost that wary ‘what the hell is she going to do next?’ look.

"I'm fine," I croaked, my voice hoarse from crying so much and not talking for so long. "I don't want anything." I cleared my throat and coughed. "Maybe a glass of water."

"Paul, get her water! Go! Why are you standing there? Go! Come here, honey. Sit on the couch."

She led me by the arm as she would an invalid, and I suppose in some ways I was. Paul brought me the water and then took two steps back. I wondered if he thought heartbreak was contagious. I took several gulps of water and looked up at him, nodding thanks. He nodded back and disappeared down the hallway.

"He doesn't know what to do with tears. Never been his strong suit." Mel rolled her eyes and smiled.

"Thanks for letting me stay here."

"Oh honey. It's no problem at all. You stay here just as long as you like. You're always welcome, you know that."

I did know that, and the thought comforted me. Pain stabbed behind my eyes, and I drank a couple more swallows of water.

"I think I'm gonna go home. I want to take a shower. Wash my hair."

"You can do that here," Mel said. "There's shampoo, toothpaste, deodorant. Whatever you need. It's in a little basket underneath the sink in the bathroom. I can get you a robe."

I smiled and shook my head, the movement causing waves of pain to reverberate across my skull.

"Thanks, Mel. I really appreciate everything. But I need to go home."

She hugged me again, and I felt like I wanted to cry but had no tears. Dried up. Empty inside. And the emptiness left a hole that burned and ached.

I drove home in silence, the colors whizzing past me in a blur of madness. I had no conscious thought of anything I passed or saw, just a magnetic pull to get home. Alone with my own thoughts. My own pain.

I had turned my phone off after work on Friday, and I couldn't bring myself to turn it back on yet. I would have to do it tomorrow, to address the irate messages from brides, but they could wait.

Part of me was scared I would turn it back on and find a missed message from Cabe. Part of me was scared there'd be none.

My apartment echoed in empty silence as I entered. A stark contrast from Melanie's house, with its bustle of color, sounds, and smells. Her bright hues splashed across the upholstery and walls. Three dogs yipping and yapping and climbing all over the furniture. Paul's obsession with car shows playing non-stop on TV. Melanie banging pots and pans in the kitchen and yelling at Paul to turn the TV down.

I welcomed the silence of home, and yet I felt engulfed by it. The air too heavy to breathe. Too dense.

The cleansing waters of the shower washed away a portion of the funk, both on my skin and in my head, but after fifteen minutes standing under the stream, my eyes had started to pour out tears again. I collapsed into the tub with loud, racking sobs that would have terrified Paul. I cried until my sides hurt and the water grew cold.

I stripped the cologne-tainted sheets from my bed and washed them. I hid the stuffed frog and Roscoe the dog underneath the bed so they wouldn't stare at me, and then I lay on the fresh sheets and stared at the ceiling, praying the morning would soon come.

Tuesday, February 4th

It completely caught me off guard when he called after a week of silence. I wasn't expecting it, and my heart skipped beats, raced, and stopped, all at the same time. I jumped out of my chair to close my office door, but then I got nervous he would hang up before I answered and cracked my knee on my desk trying to rush back to the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey there, Buttercup."

I sucked in a quick gasp of air and fought the tears that sprang to my eyes. Partly from my throbbing knee, but mostly from the pain of hearing his voice, much more quiet and subdued than normal. "Hey."

"How ya doin'?"

"I'm hanging in there." I declined to mention I'd lost nine pounds in the past week, hadn't had solid food since last Monday, and had cried so much I'd acquired what seemed to be a permanent fog filter over my vision.

We were both silent for a long pause, and then we spoke at the same time.

"Go ahead," Cabe said.

"No, no. You go."

We were silent again, and then we both spoke together again. We laughed, and I told him I would listen and he should go first.

"I need to talk to you about something. Could we meet somewhere?"

My heart screamed ‘
Yes!’
pretty much before he finished asking, but my battered self-defense system shrieked ‘
Oh hell no!’
in the back of my head. I paused to decide which voice to go with.

"Ty?"

My heart won out. "Yeah. Where do you wanna meet?"

He picked a restaurant near my house, one we'd been to several times. I went home first to change clothes, but I couldn't decide on an appropriate outfit for the occasion. I don’t own heart-protecting armor or a straitjacket.

He looked awful, and I'm not just saying that because I was hoping he would. There were dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, his hair was tangled mess, and his shirt looked like he'd slept in it. For days. He was seated at the bar, and he rose to give me a half-assed hug when I walked up to him.

"Hey, Ty. You okay?"

I glared at him and swallowed the vile string of words that came to mind in answer.
Why would I be okay, jerk? You broke up with me a week ago, haven't called since then, and now you casually ask if I'm okay?

I liked the strength the anger gave me, so I decided to try and focus on that instead of throwing myself in his arms and begging him to never let go.

They seated us right away, and we both stared at the menu and laid it aside.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"Nope."

"Me neither. So I guess I'll get right to it. I'm not sure what to do with this, but I got the travel packet for Paris on Friday."

My heart fluttered, and my stomach flipped. I'd forgotten all about Paris. How does anyone forget about Paris? Tears sprang to my eyes, and I dabbed at them with the linen napkin as he talked.

"I need to know what you wanna do. Do you want me to cancel the whole thing? Do you want to take someone else? I'll pay to transfer my tickets over."

The napkin proved completely ineffective at keeping the steady stream of tears from seeping down my face. "I don't want to go with anyone else."

"Okay. I'll tell her to cancel it then."

I nodded and swallowed hard. "Will you be able to get your money back?"

"I don't know. Don't worry about that. It's my problem."

I nodded again and more tears flowed. Was this why he called? To tell me he would cancel the trip? Did I need to know that? Did he really think I would just up and take someone else on our trip to Paris? I grabbed hold of the anger and used it to push myself from the table and stand up. "I can't do this, Cabe. I'm gonna go."

He followed me to my car. He walked silently behind me, his presence pulling the pressure from the air around me like a storm system. He grabbed my elbow as I reached the car door, spinning me to face him and lifting me into his arms and against his mouth before I knew what was happening.

His lips covered mine, rough and demanding, as his tongue plundered and his hips pushed me back against the car. I clung to the front of his shirt, hanging on for dear life as my knees weakened and my heart soared. Just when I thought I may actually pass out, he released my mouth and held me tight against his chest.

"I'm sorry, Ty. I'm so sorry."

I stood motionless, afraid if I moved he would pull away and the moment would be gone. I could have stood there forever. Cabe's arms around me, his voice against my hair, his heart beating against mine. Both pounding faster than I ever thought possible.

"It kills me to see you in pain, Ty. I'm sorry. I don't know what to do. I can't stand being away from you."

His voice cracked, and I looked up. Tears shimmered in his eyes and one huge drop rolled slowly down his cheek as he looked toward the sky. My shattered, wounded heart exploded into a million jagged pieces.

"Then don't," I pleaded, my voice so quiet I'm surprised he heard me at all.

More tears rolled as he shook his head. "I know I need to slow this down. That makes sense in my head, but my heart just wants to be with you. I'm sorry."

He leaned forward and kissed me again, slower this time. Gentler. The tip of his tongue rolled against mine, and any straggling shreds of anger I had mustered up before deserted me. But I had to ask the question raging in my head.

"So what do we do now?" 

He brushed my hair behind my ear and caressed my cheek. "I don't know." His eyes were clouded, troubled, and I feared he might turn and walk away at any minute.

I struggled to think of a solution. Anything to keep him from bolting and shutting me out again.

"Well, let's slow it down if that's what you need."

He sighed and let his head flop forward to meet mine. "Can we do that? Are we able to see each other and talk to each other without it going all nuts?"

I didn't know what he meant by nuts, but I didn't really care as long as I could see him and talk to him.

"I don't see why not. Just communicate with me, dude. Let me know what the hell's going on in your head."

He nodded and swallowed, his Adam's apple rolling against the collar of his shirt. Amazing what weird-ass details you notice when you're trying to freeze everything happening and commit it to memory.

"You have no idea what you do to me, girl."

I had no response for that. The way he said it could have gone either way as to a good effect or a bad one. He let go of me and dropped his hands down to hold mine. His thumbs slowly caressed the backs of my hands, and I shivered at the sensations it caused.

"You're cold. Here, get in your car. I'm sorry. I should have realized it was cold out here." He kissed me once more and then brought each of my hands to his lips as well. "Have a good night, Buttercup."

I wish I could have told him I wasn't cold at all. In fact, quite the opposite.

He opened my car door and waited until I was buckled in before shutting it. He backed away, and his eyes didn't leave mine until he was dangerously close to bumping into another car across the parking lane.

I feel numb now. Like I should be relieved or happy or something. I mean, he wants to see me. To talk to me. He obviously wants to kiss me. But we're not okay.