THAT MAN 4 (The Wedding Story-Part 1) (14 page)

“From your friend Jaime Zander. When I called him to discuss a bachelor party, he told me all about the one he had planned for you tonight.”

“How did you get his number?” My voice was rising with anger.

She smiled smugly. “Daddy. Jaime handles all his advertising.”

Mooreland Realty was one of the biggest realtors in the country. I had no idea Clayton Moore was one of Jaime’s clients. That explained why Kat was at his art gallery opening last December.

“How did you get into my room?”

She batted her eyes. “It’s amazing what a hundred dollar bill given to the right person can get you.”

I’d give as many hundreds at it took to get her out of my room. And out of my life for good. It was time to cut to the chase.

“Kat, what the fuck do you want?”

“I want what we once had.” She was fingering herself.

“We had nothing.”

“We had Capri.”

“It was just a summer fling. I ended it, but you have some kind of weird-ass obsession with me. You should be in therapy.”

She let out a mocking laugh. “I’ve been in therapy my whole life. It’s a joke.”

Obviously, it was. She was still one sick chick.

She narrowed her eyes at me “You ruined it for me with all other men. No one fucks the way you do.”

“I’m sure you can find someone,” I said, wondering why the hell I was even having this conversation with her.

“We could have had it all, Blake. But you fucked it up.”

“You fucked yourself.” I spit out the words.

Anger washed over her face. Her eyes flared with fury. I was beginning to think she was bi-polar. I’d had enough.

“Please get the fuck out of here before I call security.” I had to control myself from physically throwing her out the door.

Slowly and wordlessly, she made her way out of my bed. My eyes stayed fixed on her as she donned her pencil skirt and tight V-neck sweater. She grabbed her monstrous purse and marched to the door to my suite. At the doorway, she turned and glared at me. A sinister smile curled on her lips.

“I’m going to prove how much
I
love you, Blake. I’m going to let
you
tell that classless, mousy fiancée of yours
all
about us.”

I clenched my jaw and my fists. I’d never been this close to punching a woman. My blood pressure soaring, I held my breath and then let it go through my nose.

“Get the hell out of here, Kat. NOW!”

“Bye, Blakey,” she retorted, her voice saccharine sweet. She turned on her heel and disappeared.

I sunk down on the couch and rubbed my temples. Tomorrow, when I got back to LA, I was going to have a heart-to-heart talk with my tiger. It was time she knew.

Jennifer

T
hank God, Blake was coming back tomorrow morning. The two weeks he’d been away felt like an eternity. And this last week had been pure misery.

I was bloated. Achy. Irritable. And tired. A total emotional wreck.

I cried at the littlest things. For no reason.

I yelled at sweet Mrs. Cho when she couldn’t reach Blake.

I scribbled red-ink notes all over one of the scripts I was reading and couldn’t focus on another.

I broke down and bawled in my support group when a new member shared her horrific story of being beaten and raped.

The pressures of work and the wedding were getting to me. And so was something else. I was over a week late for my period.
Stress?
Tossing the script I was reviewing, I googled my symptoms.

Oh shit!

If things couldn’t get more complicated, an unexpected e-mail popped up in my inbox. The hair on the back of my neck bristled. It was from my ex-fiancé, Bradley Wick. I hadn’t seen or heard from him since the time I ran into him and his fiancée Candace, registering at Bloomingdale’s, and that was almost a year ago. I stared at my computer screen, my fingertips lightly drumming the keyboard. The only thing keeping me from deleting it was the subject line said URGENT in big shouty caps. With reservation, I opened it. The long and short of it—Bradley wanted to see me. He had something important he wanted to share. Despite my angst-out state, I agreed to meet him at lunch—at a nearby vegan restaurant. Some things never changed.

Mr. Punctuality was already seated at a table in the small, uncrowded restaurant. He’d already ordered one of those green soymilk concoctions he favored. Taking a seat across from him (yes, still the same ungentlemanly Bradley), I rested one hand on the table and the other, with Blake’s ring, on my lap. I studied his face as he flashed that big toothy smile. The smile hadn’t changed but his face had—he looked like he’d put on a fair amount of weight. He’d gotten jowly, and his receding hairline had receded further.

“Hi, Jennifer,” he said, handing me a menu. “Thanks for coming.”

“Sure, Bradley. No problem.” Interestingly, I no longer felt anything toward him—neither rage nor contempt for having cheated on me with his hygienist. “You said it was urgent. Is something the matter?”

“I made a mistake.”

I cocked my head. “What do you mean?”

“I should have married
you.”

“Bradley, what are you talking about?”

“It didn’t work out with Candace. She was a money grubbing wench. We just finalized our divorce. The bitch got the condo.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Okay. I had to admit it. My heart was doing a little jig. He’d gotten his comeuppance.

“I want us to get back together. Give it another chance.” To my shock, he reached across the table and palmed my hand. I yanked it away.

“Bradley, I’m afraid that’s not possible.” My other hand flew up from under the table. I held it up, the glimmering snowflake diamond facing him. “I’m engaged.”

Bradley’s beady eyes darkened. “To who?”

“To my boss. Blake Burns.”

Bradley’s lips snarled. “To that fucking psychopath who practically bit off my fingers?”

I nodded. Bradley’s face reddened with rage. He slammed his juice on the table.

“You’re making the biggest mistake of your life.”

“No, Bradley, the biggest mistake of my life would have been marrying you. Thank goodness, Blake sent me that video of you and Candace all over each other.”

Bradley’s eye grew wide with shock. “What! That bastard shot that footage?”

Enough of this lunch; it was beginning to nauseate me. “Excuse me, Bradley. I’m going to use the restroom, and then I’m splitting.”

Grabbing my shoulder bag, I stood up and then hurried to the restroom located in the back of the restaurant. Frequent urination. Another symptom. Fortunately, the small one-person unisex bathroom was vacant. I emptied my bladder, washed my hands, and unlocked the door. As I opened it, Bradley came charging in and pushed me backward until I was pinned against the wall. His newly flaccid body pressed against me and his small hands fondled my swollen breasts.

“Bradley, please let me go,” I pleaded, trying to stay calm.

Madness flickered in his eyes. “No, not until you get another taste of me.” He leaned into me with his mouth parted. His antiseptic breath skimmed my cheeks. To my horror, his repulsive lips were about to touch down on mine
. No fucking way.
Without over thinking, my knee came up and jabbed his groin. I heard him groan.
Bingo!
I’d gotten him right where I wanted. Right in the balls! The self-defense class Blake had made me take had paid off.

“Fuck!” he roared as he crumpled to the tiled floor. Clutching his crotch, he writhed in pain.

A victorious smile shimmered on my face, and then it fell off like a scab, giving way to cold fury. “Don’t you ever contact me again, Dickwick. I’m so done with you.”

He glared at me. “You’re going to pay for this, Jennifer Fucking McCoy.”

Without another word, I scurried out of the restroom, my stomach cramping.

*

On the way back to the office, I made a stop. At a CVS drugstore. There was something I needed to buy. There was something I needed to know.

And soon enough I did.

Blake

I
got on an early morning flight and was back in LA by seven a.m. I had my driver take me straight to my apartment. I couldn’t wait to see my tiger. I was going to fuck her senseless, and then I was going to tell her. The sour taste of Kat was still in my mouth. I had to cleanse myself of her. I’d buried the truth six feet under, but now I had to expose it before it blew up in my face. My stomach knotted as I inserted the key into the door lock. A cocktail of guilt and anxiety coursed through my blood. I hadn’t rehearsed any kind of confession, nor did I have any idea how she would react to what I was about to tell her. I’d made a stupid, stupid mistake.

Expecting to see my early riser in the kitchen making coffee, I was surprised when she wasn’t there. Dropping my bag, I padded to our bedroom. With the blackout curtains drawn, the room was dark. I could hear her soft breaths. Quietly, I traipsed over to the bed. She was still sound asleep, a script by her side. She looked so beautiful and peaceful. Despite my physical and emotional needs, I couldn’t wake her. I headed to the bathroom to wash up and then I shed my clothes and crawled bone naked into the bed. Before I could get under the covers, she stirred.

“Blake?” she said sleepily. Her eyes fluttered open and she twitched a small smile.

“Baby, what are you still doing in bed? I thought you’d be getting ready for work.”

She groaned. I smoothed her hair. “Are you okay?

“I got my period. It’s super heavy and I have really bad cramps.” She grimaced. “I’m almost two weeks late.”

My stomach twisted. While she was still on the pill, I hadn’t used a condom in almost a year. The chances were slim but still possible.

“Do you think you had a miscarriage?” Saying that last word pained me.

She shook her head. “No. I took a pregnancy test yesterday. It was negative.”

I felt partly relieved, but worry still gnawed at me.

She sat up slowly. The pinched expression on her face told me she was in pain. She held a hand to her belly.

“I’m going to head into the office a little later if that’s okay with you.”

“No, it’s not okay. I want you to stay home and rest.”

“But Blake, I’ve got so much to do. And with the wedding and everything—”

“Fuck it. It’ll all get done. And I want you to see my sister. She’s the best gynecologist in town.”

I held her in my arms. “I’ve missed you, baby.”

“The same,” she said softly as I planted a kiss on her scalp.

Fucking my tiger wasn’t happening. And the dreaded conversation I wanted to have with her would have to wait.

Jennifer

“H
i, Marcy. Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.” I’d actually had to wait almost two weeks for my lunchtime appointment—until my much longer than usual period subsided. I’d been so looking forward to accompanying Blake at lunch to pick out a new tux for the wedding, but he was insistent on me seeing his sister at the very first opportunity. Health came first.

“Not a problem, Jennifer. Fortunately, I had a cancellation.” Her voice was professional but warm. Clad in a stylish slacks outfit under her lab coat, she looked a little trimmer since I’d last seen her, and she was wearing more makeup. She actually looked very pretty.

She continued. “What brings you here?”

Sitting with one leg folded over the other on an examining room table, I told her that I hadn’t been to a gynecologist since grad school, and that I was experiencing some cramping and heavy bleeding with my period. It had lasted ten days.

“Are you on the pill?” she asked.

“Yes.” I nodded.

“Okay, what I’d like you to do is to undress and put on the robe, leaving it open in the front. I’ll be right back.” She ambled out of the small room, closing the door behind her.

I eyed the blue paper robe sitting next to me on the table. In no time, I was undressed and wearing the flimsy contraption. Still seated on the table, I surveyed my surroundings. Unlike the campus doctor’s examination room, it was full of personality. Marcy’s numerous degrees and awards took up space on the walls along with many charming framed pieces of artwork done by her children. One, a painting of SpongeBob, brightened my spirits.

Blake’s sister returned in no time. She shot me a small smile. I think this was a first.

“Jennifer, I’d like you to lie down.”

Doing as she asked with my knees steepled, I watched as she slid out two metal stirrups from the examining table.

“Now slide your rear down to the edge and put your feet in these.”

Familiar with this routine, I did as she asked. The jolt of cold metal against the heels of my bare feet sent a shiver up my spine.

“Perfect.” Facing me, she inserted a gloved hand into my center, gently pressing and moving around it. She closed her eyes while doing the pelvic exam.

“You’re very tiny,” she commented.

“Yeah, I know,” I replied, hoping she wasn’t going to say something like: “How does my brother get his huge cock inside you?” Or: “Does it hurt when he fucks you?” The truth: Blake fit inside me beautifully, and it felt fucking great.