One Night Bride by Marika Ray
24
Esme
“Cut and run!”
I threw a soggy tissue at the television, giving Emma Thompson my opinion on what she should do now that she knew her fictional husband was cheating on her. Was there anything better for getting the tears out than a rerun of Love Actually?
Izzy walked into the living room and sighed, seeing the mountain of tissues next to me, the movie currently playing, and the state of my hygiene. I’d cancelled all my client meetings for the week, choosing to stay in gray sweats that matched my outlook on life. If wallowing was a sport, I’d take home the first place trophy.
“Okay, seriously. I’ve had enough.” She grabbed the remote off the coffee table before I could slide my slippered foot across and guard it. The television clicked off, leaving us with only the soundtrack of my sniffles.
I crossed my arms across my chest and pouted. “Hey, I was watching that.”
Izzy rolled her eyes and had a seat on the recliner, out of the tissue zone. “I know. You’ve been watching this drivel nonstop for days. Don’t you think we should talk about it?”
Remington’s face as he stormed out of the house flickered through my brain, and I braced for the searing pain in my chest that would come next. Yep, right on schedule, there it was. I’d been trying to distract myself with movies, and here was my twin, rubbing it in my face.
“What’s there to talk about, Izzy? I messed up. He no longer trusts me, and he wants a divorce. I’m waiting for the doorbell to ring, and a guy with halitosis and questionable steroid usage will serve me with the papers.”
The doorbell rang, and I nearly jumped off the couch.
My abused heart hammered away, thinking the end was here. The final nail in the coffin of this sham marriage. I grabbed a few more tissues and stood up, thinking I’d face the end with dignity and grace. My head went light, and I thought I might pass out from the exertion.
“Don’t freak out. It’s just the fam.” Izzy ran out of the room and I frowned, sitting back down and rubbing my forehead until the spots dancing across my vision passed. When was the last time I ate?
And the fam? I didn’t want visitors. I thought I’d made that clear when I made her pinkie swear to let me grow old on this couch. You don’t break a pinkie swear, for God’s sake.
“What’s that awful smell?”
Vee scrunched up her face when she hit the living room, choosing to sit as far away from me as she could. Mom and Dad came in right behind her. Dad took one look at me on the couch and turned right back around. Oakley took him by the shoulders and made him come into the room.
“We can arrest him later this afternoon,” she murmured in Dad’s ear.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” This was what happened when you called in the family for something they simply couldn’t handle. Births, marriages, job offers. That was the sort of thing they excelled in as far as encouragement went. Divorce and heartbreak, though? Might as well call in the traveling circus. At least then there’d be yummy peanuts.
Izzy clapped her hands and spoke softly. “We’re down a sister, unfortunately, but I think we can still work a miracle.”
Mom brushed aside some balled-up tissues and sat on the couch, her hand coming up to smooth the snarled hair away from my face. “First things first. You need a shower. I love you, sweetheart, but you stink.”
“Mom!” I gaped. “That’s Vee’s line, not yours.”
Mom simply shrugged, not looking at all contrite for being so harsh. “Sorry, darling, but we didn’t rehearse before we got here.”
I groaned, leaning my head back and covering my face with my hands. Maybe if I pretended they weren’t here, they’d go away. Like the boogey man at night when I was a kid. With the blanket over my face, I was invisible.
“I’m gonna kill him,” Dad said. “I know what’s wrong. I forgot to hug him last time I saw him. I needed to give him the ditch-digging spiel. He wouldn’t have messed with my girl otherwise. It worked for Wyatt, didn’t it?”
I looked over to see Oakley with her hand on his arm, physically keeping him in the room, placating him.
“He didn’t do anything, Dad,” I said, wanting them to understand that I was the one at fault here, not Remington.
“How about you explain everything first and then we can decide on that?” Mom suggested, voice rising as she continued. “I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation you told the world about your quickie marriage, and Remington isn’t even here. You’re in sweats, haven’t showered in days, and I’m guessing it’s because you broke up. Why am I the last to know freaking everything where my own daughters are concerned?”
Vee winced. “Damn. Mom cursed.”
“‘Freaking’ isn’t cursing,” Izzy interjected.
“Close enough in Mom’s book,” Vee argued.
“Girls!” Mom scolded.
They were all giving me a headache. Between the crying and the yelling, I felt like I had a heartache hangover of epic proportions.
“I’ll tell you the whole thing if you just please stop talking so loudly.” When they all kept their mouths shut, I proceeded to explain how things went down when our pictures were leaked to the internet, ending with my current vigil of waiting to be served divorce papers.
“So why haven’t you gone after him and apologized?” Oakley asked, her eyebrows drawn so tight she looked a lot like Dad, minus the handlebar mustache.
I ripped a tissue in half and shoved one side up my left nostril. The skin around my nose was red and raw from all the blowing and wiping. I was desperate, okay?
“It sounded like a good idea when you said that a few days ago, but then I just kept seeing his face and how mad he was. I want to give him some time to cool off before I talk to him.”
That was a lie. A poorly constructed one, too. I knew it and they knew it. Mom sighed through her teeth, reminding me of a balloon with a quick leak.
“Last we talked, you were going to try dating. Seems to me you must feel more than a vague fondness by now if you’re killing a whole forest in tissues,” Dad grumbled, always able to get right to the point.
The tears flooded my eyes again. Mom tittered beside me. That searing pain was back, not letting up even though it had been a few days now. Wasn’t time supposed to heal all wounds? Like how much time were we talking here?
“Yeah,” I whispered. “I love him.”
I shoved another tissue in my face and let Mom stroke my hair while they talked around me. My throat had closed, and I didn’t have the energy to slog through it all again. The tears started falling, and I vaguely wondered if I was getting dehydrated yet.
“He proposed for real this time,” Izzy told them.
Vee gasped. “Did she say yes?”
“Yes. And the next morning, the pictures came out. They argued over her response to the public outing and then he left, telling her she’d be hearing from his lawyers.”
I appreciated Izzy explaining everything so I didn’t have to. I could just sit there and leak more liquids, trying to remember what it felt like to have my life together.
Vee whistled. “Damn.”
“Okay, so you love him.” Oakley stood up, and I had to wipe at my eyes to see her clearly. “You have to go fight for him.”
I shook my head. “I can’t. He was so mad, Oak.”
“Are you freaking kidding me?” Vee stood up and approached, pinching her nose like I reeked, and she couldn’t stand to inhale this close to me.
Jeez. The BO wasn’t that bad. I lifted an arm to sneak a whiff and changed my mind. It was bad. Dear God, someone had chopped onions in my armpits while I was watching my chick flicks.
“You, the drill sergeant with your lists and goals and phrases to spark motivation, are going to sit on your ass—sorry, Mom—and let that fine cowboy just ride on out of here?” Vee flicked me in the forehead.
“Ow!” I rubbed the smarting skin. I could do without the physical assault.
Vee flapped her arms, obviously on a roll. “Circle the wagons, get in alignment, deep dive into your options, and choose your best practices. You’re going to leverage your good looks, piggyback on the love he obviously feels for you, and be the change agent you currently seek.”
I stared at her, stunned. She was speaking my language for the very first time.
Badly, but I was finally listening.
A spark of something bright cleared the dead air fumigating my soul.
“I gotta jump the curb and wrestle that alligator to the ground,” I whispered, staring at the coffee table as my brain spun in a thousand directions.
“What in Sam Hill are they talking about?” Dad whispered loudly to no one in particular.
“Shh. Whatever it is, it’s working,” Oakley whispered back.
I stood up so fast my stomach lurched. I pulled the tissue out of my nose. “I’ve got to go see him.”
Vee clapped her hands and pointed both pistol fingers at me. “You’re back in your wheelhouse, bitch!”
“Vee, really?” Mom muttered.
“I’ll start with a shower, put on my best outfit, and then I’ll go to Wyoming to see him. I’ll write up a speech on the airplane. Maybe a PowerPoint would be good too.” Excitement was building, breathing life into my limbs for the first time all week.
“Skip the PowerPoint, honey,” Mom offered. “Just tell him how you really feel. And then most importantly, show him.”
I spun and stared at her. “How do I show it without a PowerPoint?”
Oakley snorted behind me, but I was too high on the possibility of seeing Remy to bitch at her. Dad stood up and hitched up his pants.
“Darlin’, there comes a time when you have to take the badge off and be a family man.”
I pursed my lips. “I don’t have a badge, nor am I a man, Dad.”
Dad stroked his mustache. “You’re a smart girl, Esme. You’ll figure it out.” With that, he held a hand out for Mom and pulled her off the couch.
She patted him on the cheek with that smile she reserved only for him. “Take me home, Chief.”
“Oh gah-ross!” Vee whined, backing away like they had the plague.
“I second that.” Izzy grimaced.
“Oh, and, Esme, honey?” Mom called over her shoulder before Dad dragged her out of the room. “Make sure you let me know a good date to throw you all a proper wedding reception.”
I smiled at her, feeling hope for my future for the first time in a long while. Long before Remington, even. My job, the business I’d longed to build, had come to feel like a chore the last year or so and I hadn’t even realized it. There was so much more to life than just the job. I needed my family. I needed Remington.
I needed to take off the badge a little more often.
Leave it to Dad and one of his vague phrases to be what I needed to center me.
“Go get ’em, tiger!” Vee squeezed me tight before letting me go and shoving my tiny suitcase at me. I hadn’t packed much. I’d either change Remington’s mind or I’d be coming home heartbroken the next day. “If nothing else, you sure do smell better.”
Izzy gave me a gentle hug, ignoring Vee’s backhanded compliments. “That man is crazy for you, E. Make sure you show him how you feel too.”
I nodded, taking her encouragement and letting it fuel me. “Thank you, Iz. I don’t say it enough, but you’re my best friend. I couldn’t do any of this without you.”
She inhaled, her eyes watering. “Same. Now go rope your cowboy.”
I grabbed the handle of my bag and ran into the airport as my two sisters cheered at the curb. I already had my boarding pass printed out and got through the security line quickly. The gate was just ahead, and they were already calling for everyone to line up to start boarding. I found my place in line and bounced on my toes.
The pink sundress I was wearing wasn’t quite appropriate for a cold airplane and probably not for a Wyoming ranch either, but it was fun and flirty and just the thing Remington would like. I was done conforming to what I thought everyone else wanted from me. The only people who I would allow to hold that kind of power would be my family. And hopefully soon, Remington would be an official part of that family.
The gate attendant scanned my pass and gave me the head nod to continue. My nerves escalated with each step down the jetway. The flight attendant gave me a kind smile when I boarded, pointing me toward my row. I found my seat and hefted my suitcase into the overhead baggage claim. With my arms up so high, my skirt was a lot shorter than I remembered. I could feel the sweat building as I struggled to fit it into the compartment. When that was secure, I had a seat and tried to take deep breaths.
An older man stopped in the aisle and gestured to the seat by the window. I hopped up to let him scoot into our row and then sat down again. When everyone else was on the plane, I thought the empty middle seat between us was a good omen for this trip. At the reminder from the flight attendant, I grabbed my phone out of my purse and went to turn it off.
There was a text message. From Remington.
My hands shook so hard I barely got the screen unlocked to read it. He’d had zero contact with me for a week now.
Remy: Can we talk?
Me: Definitely. Just not right this second.
Remy: busy with work?
Me: Um, not exactly.
Remy: Okay. Well, let me know when you have time. I’m here in Hell.
I gasped out loud and the flight attendant gave me a glare from the head of the aisle as she showed how to insert the belt into the buckle. Remington was in Auburn Hill? Not Wyoming?
I jumped to my feet, scrambling to grab my purse and hook it over my shoulder.
“Ma’am, please have a seat. We’re ready to taxi down the runway.” The flight attendant abandoned her canned safety speech and came down the aisle.
I ignored her, popping open the overhead compartment and reaching for my suitcase.
“Ma’am, you need to close that and have a seat.”
“I need to get off the plane!” I nearly shouted, sweat coating my upper lip. Remy was here. I needed to get off this tin can before I found myself thousands of miles away from him again. The suitcase came out of the compartment like a rocket, nearly taking me down with it. The thing hit the seat back across the aisle—thankfully not the back of someone’s head—before slamming to my feet where I finally caught it. Groans everywhere told me I wasn’t the other passengers’ favorite right now.
Another flight attendant came up behind me, the two of them flanking me and talking all at once while we made an awkward dance up the aisle and to the exit door.
“Do we need to call security?” the woman asked the male flight attendant.
“Please, you don’t understand. My husband and I had this horrible fight and I was on the plane to go to Wyoming to beg him to come back, but he just texted me he’s here. Don’t you see? I have to get off this plane.” I finally ran out of breath.
The two attendants looked at each other and then the woman started to smile. “I’m a sucker for a happy ending,” she whispered to me. “Get out of here.”
She stepped back, the doorway open for me to step out and run back up the jetway. I did, tossing over my shoulder, “Thank you! We’ll name our firstborn after you!”
She laughed, and I hoped the universe wouldn’t hold me to it. I hadn’t even gotten her name. All I cared about was getting to Remington and getting down on both knees to beg him to give me another chance. And if that didn’t work, I’d break out the PowerPoint I made on the car ride over to the airport.