Broken Ex-Bully by Victoria Pinder
6
Chloe
The wedding brought tears to my eyes. Mirabelle gazed at her husband. When they took hands, they acted like they were all alone.
The minister spoke about love, and for one moment, I wished Renzo and I were the ones getting married. It was a crazy thought. Until the previous day, I would have sworn I hated him. My core still quivered, and it wasn’t because I hated him.
But there was no way we’d be more than a fling. And it was impossible that he’d ever want more than that with me. Hate didn’t just become love. And besides, Renzo wasn’t a guy I should even have feelings for.
I cleaned myself better in the bathroom of my hotel room and put on a fresh set of panties and my cream-and-orange dress. The shower hadn’t quite removed his scent from my skin, but in a way, I’d cherish the remaining memory. I was going to relive those moments for a lifetime.
I headed downstairs to the reception before my friend noticed I was missing. The wedding guest had already found seats in the ballroom at round tables. I found my name and headed to table twenty-two.
However, halfway to my seat, a familiar warm arm caught me, and I didn’t even try to leave his muscular frame as he said, “There you are.”
We were dangerous together. I glanced up at him and remembered how his lips had made me forget myself. “As promised. The wedding was beautiful.”
He led me to the bar. “It might have been if I’d stayed with you.”
I trembled as he let me go. Once I’d ordered my pinot grigio and we were alone again, I said, “I’d like for us to be friends.”
The bartender gave us our drinks and left. Then Renzo placed his hand on my hip and said, “I hoped we could be more.”
I sighed as memories of how I’d lost all my senses in his arms replayed in vivid color in my mind. But I picked up my drink and shook my head. “We… can’t. I’m sorry.”
The music started, and I assumed the bridal party was about to make an entrance. Renzo asked, “Can friends dance?”
I narrowed my eyes. He didn’t look like he’d gone to his room at all. I put my hand on my hip and asked, “If I get my panties back.”
He acted like I’d shot him in the chest. “You’re going to take those too?”
I laughed. I hadn’t expected the sound to bubble forth. I watched the doors open and the happy couple come in and wave at everyone. Everyone in the room clapped.
Once we could speak again, I said, “No. I guess you can add them to your collection.”
He pressed his hand to my lower back. “I don’t have a collection, Chloe. All I want is you.”
Damn. I wish that was true. I’d have been his years ago… if he hadn’t…
No. I was not going to imagine the impossible. I sipped my wine, and he walked me to my seat. “What do you think happened that caused Mirabelle and your brother Damon to fall in love?”
“I’m guessing a lot of sex.”
My heart pounded. Sex didn’t lead to love. I gazed at the couple, who glowed as a photographer snapped their picture.
“You’re wrong.” I shook my head. “I’m sure there was more.”
“Probably. She’d also wants our money.”
Wait.I stopped and stood in front of him. “She’s not a gold digger. She worked hard to get her degree.”
He took my hands, and for that second, we were alone. “I’m sure she did. Can I ask a question?”
I wanted him—I wouldn’t deny that—and my heart melted a little bit as I said, “Sure, what?”
He lifted my hand so it was near my heart. “If I could offer you anything in the world for more time with you, what would you want?”
Time to enjoy life without constantly working till I’m too tired to do more than watch TV.I broke our connection and sipped my wine, stepping to the side. “I don’t want anything for it. I’m happy I don’t hate you.”
The music started again, and he took my drink and set it down on a side table. “Me too. And that’s our song.”
I went with him because I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else, though I argued, “We don’t have a song.”
He set a formal pose like we’d waltz as if this were an old song. “We do now that you finally said yes.”
The music changed to Nora Jones, and somehow, the classic dance still made sense. I said, “It’s just a dance.” But I felt like this was a ball and we were special, at least for that night.
He said, “It’s whatever you want it to be.”
Once the party ended, we would never see each other again. I followed his lead. “Renzo, thank you… for understanding.”
As we twirled, I realized it was harder to pretend nothing had happened when I cared about him. He was amazing, and I wished nothing but the best for him. Maybe if we were different people, I’d already be in love with him.
