Sydney (Book One) (That Wedding Girl 1) (3 page)

“That’s the CeCe I know,” he winks. “Okay, just stay here and I’ll check if the coast is clear first.”

He gets off the floor and goes to the door, opening it slightly and walks out. As if he was waiting for this exact moment, Adam pushes the door open, shoving Gabe outside and steps in.

“Hey! What the hell—”

And the door is closed. He turns the golden lock to the right, and it’s just the two of us.

Alone.

“You are the
last
person I want to see right now.” I growl, my voice croaky as I remain seated on the marble floor.

“I know what you must be thinking, but can you let me explain?” Adam’s voice breaks, betraying his panic. His hair, which was styled perfectly only thirty minutes ago, is now dishevelled. I can see a small cut underneath his right eye.

Gabe hollers to get Adam’s attention as he pounds on the door from the other side, “You prick! Let me in!”

     Adam stands against the door, pushing any force back with ease and ignores him.

     “I’m not going to stop; I can do this all day!” His words are followed by incessant turning of the handle as he works to get in the room.

“It’s ok. I’ll talk to him. Just give us a few minutes,” I yell back. I can handle this, even if I’m trembling inside.    

“
Fine
. But I’ll be just around the corner. I’ve already told the guests to leave. Do you want your family to stay?” Gabe yells back.

“No. Tell them to go home.” I use the chance to glare at Adam. Immediately I can hear Gabe back away and walk down the hall.

It’s just me and Adam. This not knowing what is going to happen is scaring the hell out of me. My normal assertive self is gone. This was a situation I never planned for, not even in my wildest nightmares.

“Do you really think it’s going to make a difference? Explaining yourself?”

He stands against the door, staring down at me. In the span of thirty minutes my Prince Charming became the villain and destroyed my fairy tale happy ending. “Maybe not, but you have to listen to what I have to say. Please, you always make time to listen to your
precious
clients. Do you think you can spare a few minutes of your valuable schedule to do the same for me?”

Not when they’ve been cheating on me with some blonde bimbo with a perky rack,
I think to myself. Instead, I let out a quiet breath, crossing my arms to peek up at him.

“Technically,
you
should be the one listening, and I should be the one screaming and throwing things at you. But go ahead, enlighten me,” I say brusquely.

“I know what you are thinking right now, and I’m sorry you had to find out this way…” he pauses, furrowing his brows. “I was going to tell you everything, but the right time never came up. My work got in the way, then you were always busy with your
business
.” He says the last word with such contempt.

“Being time-poor is your excuse?” Is he really going to use that as an excuse? That our schedules got in the way of him dropping this bombshell that is the irretrievable breakdown of our relationship?

“It’s not just that. You never have time, the business is the only thing you think about,” his voice grows louder with agitation. “You even talk about it in your sleep.”

“What are you trying to say? Because I had a job, correction
business
to run, you cheated on me?” I can’t hide the anger in my voice.

“You were never around, you couldn’t even make it to my birthday,” he says quietly, the blood draining from his flushed cheeks.

“Don’t you dare use that against me. You know how sorry I was, but I was in Bali for goodness sake. You can’t blame me for my flight getting delayed.”

He raises a hand to silence me. “Work is always something keeping you away.”

Oh.
I never for once thought this would be about me.

“You know I always try and stick to Sydney weddings because I know you hate me being away. But this was a massive client and the money was too good to pass up.”

I can’t believe I have to justify this. Why is he berating me? This conversation is not going anywhere in the vicinity I thought it would go. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. He’s attacking me, when he should be getting down on two knees begging for forgiveness.

   “So you cheated on me because you got lonely, or because you hated the fact I had a job I loved? If you can clarify for me that would be
great.
” I give him a dirty look.

He looks at the ground, pursing his lips. “You were never around.”

My chest constricts, and my mouth starts to go dry. I am emotionally bankrupt. There’s nothing he can say to remove the swirling black void that has enveloped my heart.

“At the risk of getting angry again, can you at least tell me what happened with you and Katerina? Spare me the revolting details, I beg you,” I murmur, closing my eyes.

“Laylay…I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” He was perfectly happy to tell me what I did wrong, but now that it’s his turn to fess up his wrongdoing he wants to run.

I open my eyes and glare at him with utter fury. “You. Do. Not. Get to call me that anymore. Get to the point. NOW!”

“Alright, alright. Geez, bossy much? We were just co-workers, completely professional. Nothing happened for ages.”

“Then what? Obviously something did. Was it when…” I clench my teeth at the thought, “Did you cheat when I was in Bali? Your birthday…”

I see the guilt flash in his crystal blue eyes. My stomach convulses. I felt so bad about missing out on his birthday, buying him loads of presents and he did that? The man in front of me feels more and more like a shadow of the man I thought I knew.

“It was just a kiss” At my raised eyebrow, he adds, “Okay fine, we made out. But we didn’t sleep together I swear!”

I scoff, and then almost laugh. “Well, that makes it all okay, doesn’t it? That you
didn’t
put your penis inside her. Well done, I’m so proud of you. And here I was thinking that you two were tragic star-crossed lovers, given what she wrote.”

He raises his arms in exasperation. “I swear, she’s fucking nuts. I told her I wanted nothing to do with her after that night, that it was a total mistake. But she’s gone full psycho on me ever since. I’ve had to request to work out of the office as much as possible. I’m not seeing her anymore, I promise you.”

My mind scrambles through the contents of the letter and I pick out the parts that match the brevity of his statement.

…I'm frightened to be without you, but bearing in mind 'the rules' you will not know how I am doing and vice versa...

…You told me you wish to continue our relationship like before, before this all happened.

…It’s been getting harder and harder to see you at work. I haven’t been able to discuss my worries, concerns, problems at work with you anymore, and vice versa….

Maybe he isn’t completely lying, but it doesn’t alleviate the burning sensation in my chest.

In one swift motion, he crouches down to meet me at eye level, but he remains by the door. Is this it? Is he finally going to grovel? Is he going to plead me to give him another chance? I know I should be hating his guts and throwing his things out of my apartment window, but I want him to beg and declare how much he still wants to be with me. I want to hear it, an over-the-top declaration of love.

“We’re not the same anymore. We haven’t been for a while,” is all he says, and I crumble inside.

“Nothing’s changed, we’re still the same…” my voice croaks, and I fear I will become mute soon. “You’re working for a big-shot company.”

“No,
I’m
still the same. I’m still in the same job getting paid peanuts, I’m not earning anywhere close to what I wanted at this age,” he says quietly. 

Ever since I met him at that University party, Adam was the hot shot who wanted to kill it in finance and make the big bucks, and I had more modest ambitions of working in administration in…well any company who would take me. However, wedding planning stumbled into my life and I realised I wanted more than a job I tolerated. Life suddenly became too short to do something I didn’t love.

A sombre expression is fixed his face as he sits cross-legged on the floor, slouching his back.

“You’re only twenty-five…”

“Don’t fucking patronise me, alright? You’re younger than me and you have accomplished so much more. I…I don’t deserve you,” his head hangs low, ashamed to look at me after his candid admission.

I clear my throat, not quite sure how to respond. “So you’re…angry at me? Angry that I work hard so we can have a good life?”

“You just don’t get it, do you?
I
am supposed to be the one providing us with a good life and buying you nice things. But instead, you’re raking in more and more with each coming month. How do you think it makes me feel, as a man?” It’s whiny and downright pathetic, but it’s honest. Not that it makes it any easier to digest.

“Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t happy sooner?  I would have done anything...we could have talked about this,” I say in a low voice.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes to the side. “When do you ever want to talk?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He’s irritating me now with his cynicism.

“You know what I mean. You always brush everything under the carpet, you keep everything bottled up.”

“That’s not true…” I say quietly. “How can you say something like that to me? You should know me better than anybody—”

“Sometimes I don’t even know if you’re human.”
Whoa.
He’s just broken my heart and now he says
that
? “I feel like I’m the more emotional one in the relationship—”

“Clearly,” I mutter under my breath.

“Cut the shit alright? Like even now, don’t you want to hit me? Throw something at me? Cry?”

My nostrils flare loudly. “Don’t you
dare
tell me how to feel right now.”

Adam presses his mouth into a hard line.

“I thought you liked that I wasn’t clingy, that I wasn’t one of those girls who texted you all the time asking how your day was, what you had for lunch,” I finally say, my voice soft.

“Maybe that’s what I want, one of those girls.”

Noise ceases to exist and my heart feels like it’s been run over by a tractor We are sitting three feet from each other, and yet we are worlds apart because we both know what’s going to happen. Ever since he kissed me next to the fountain at the local mall on our second date, we’ve always had a lot of fun. My feelings for him never wavered, no matter how many arguments we had or the fact that we were seeing less and less of each other. Yes, we argued a lot - mainly about money, where we lived, Adam being frustrated at not being able to afford his dream sports coupé – but I thought we were like any other couple.

And now, all six years we shared is about to disintegrate.  All those trips to the supermarket, all those home cooked dinners, all those movie nights, our trips away.  Gone.

“We are very different people, and I took it out on you.” He looks defeated, sitting there wallowing in his own pity.  “I’m so proud of you and your success. I wish you nothing but the best.”

“I was just there at the right place, right time,” I reason. That basically sums up my career in wedding planning - I always told people I sort of fell into it. Isn't it funny how you realise how much you can love doing something only once you try it?

“So is this it? We’re over, just like that?” I force the words out, but my voice is bleak.

“I can’t get married knowing my wife is more successful than me. I’m…sorry.” Adam never apologises so this is a big deal, even if he should be saying sorry over and over again, a million times for what he’s done to me. “You must hate me.”

He reaches for me, crawling forward to touch my hand but I jerk my arm away. I glare at him, my anaesthetised state all-consuming. “I don’t hate you, I feel sorry for you.”

“Why?”

“You're doing me a favour actually. The man I loved was this confident, driven, yet humble and sincere guy who had so many dreams. But this person in front of me is a ghost of him. He's a loser, and I would
never
want to be his wife,” the words are like hot coals, spewing out mercilessly.

Adam winces, but I don't care because that felt good. It’s only a fraction of the pain I’m experiencing; the blinding pain that is leaving me dead and hard on the inside.

I push my palms against the floor to pick myself up, but Adam reaches forward to grab my arm, wrapping his other hand around my waist.

“What are you doing?” I’m confused. He just broke up with me ten seconds ago, and now he has his hands all over me? Why is he touching me?

“Get off me,” I hiss, shoving him gently. A laugh comes out, and it’s not from me.
His beautiful blue eyes, which once left me hypnotised, are blazing. But not with guilt, or anger or sadness. They are filled with lust.

A wicked grin appears on his full lips, “You are so hot when you get angry.”

“Don’t even think…” I sneer at him, trying to push him away.

But he won’t budge, that look in his eyes says it all. “Do you want to do it one last time?”

You have
got
to be fucking joking me.