Page 12 of Four Times Taken

I didn't know if any of them were listening, but I was all too happy to tell them about her. My words dragged as sleep and intoxication battled each other.

"Her name was Lily, but she was nothing like a flower." I grinned as I went back on a journey through the mind, imagining what she'd look like now, hoping she'd smile at me and welcome me with open arms. My words drifted into the night as I relived every moment with her, my eyelids fluttering shut at last so we could meet again in my dreams.

Chapter 6

Lily

Several Weeks Later

'They' say wearing black to a wedding is bad luck. Ann-Marie also begged me to wear something with color. That's why I'm wearing this plum satin dress. It's dark enough to keep me safe and 'hidden,' and she gets the color she asked me for. Besides, if this marriage doesn't work out, I don't want to be blamed for wearing black to the wedding.

Okay, let me stop.

I promised myself I wouldn't show up here, all Debbie-downer, rolling my eyes at their vows of love and forever. It would be best for me not to turn up at all if I couldn't be happy for my friend. The sweet cherry scent of shaded trees lining the walkway of the park's entrance helped me adjust my attitude. Just because men could be shitty, it didn't mean her man was shitty. Even if it was hard for me to resolve that within myself.

I mean, I wasn't surprised by the rise of 'red pill' and 'whatever other color pills' movements nowadays. Back in my day, that's all I'd ever seen of men. Seeing some people act shocked about it now was crazy to me. Hasn't this always been what men have been like? As soon as women advocated for themselves, they jumped up with the need to shove the same old bullshit down our throats on the basis of 'advocating for men.'

Well, can you advocate for men without shitting all over women? Sounds more like tit for tat to me. It's like setting boundaries and having someone else purposely set boundaries that conflict with your own to remain in control. Like 'I don't like engaging in a conversation where someone is raising their voice at me. It's triggering,' then having that person throw that back in your face. 'Well, my boundary is I don't like when people don't appreciate that I'm a passionate person and shut down just because I raise my voice.' They'll say with their dumb ass. 'Yeah? Well, here's an idea. How about you stay away from me?' That's my response.

It doesn't make sense.

That's why I'll run as far away from them as I can. No, thank you. Men can kick rocks. They're good enough for a one-night stand, sure. Forever, though? I'd rather eat sand. But today was not about me. It was about Ann-Marie. For some reason, she still had hope, heaven help her. And I wouldn't be the one to kill it.

Making my way down the paved stone path toward the floral gardens, I was breathtaken. It was hard not to lose your breath in a place like this. It wasn't my first time here. I'd lived in Durham for most of my life, except when I moved away to live with that fool Marco. I came here to clear my head whenever I was overcome with bad memories, the urge to run away, run back to drugs, and when life seemed meaningless. The trees, the flowers, the lake—nature simply existed and there was a quietness to it that became one with my mind, reducing the noise in my head. It was also a popular wedding destination, so I wasn't surprised Ann-Marie and the guy she was marrying chose this place.

There were small, plastic pillars holding black cards saying, 'Guests Only' and as I made my way to my assigned seat, my breath left my body for another reason. For a moment, I ceased to exist as a human body. I'd become one of those plastic pillars, my matching plum heels glued to the ground, my black clutch burning a hole into the palm of my hand. My eyes were locked onto a familiar face, laugh and charm, and I screamed into the shell of my frozen body to move before he caught me.

Eric.

His hair was longer than it used to be. It's tied back in a low man bun. Streaks of sun-bleached blond ran waves through the brown of his hair. He had a beard now. That's different. He's also muscular. Not bulky, lean and solid. A bit of muscle filled out the sleeve of his fitted jacket, but it's not overwhelming. He even looked taller. Though a lot about him had changed, there's no denying it's him. His laugh took me back to our chats, the way he made Ann-Marie's mother laugh took me back to high school. He had the same ability to make anyone swoon, just like I did, as a stupid teenage girl.

It's all a game to him. Look at him, letting his ego take the wheel, seeing how many people he can get to look at him like he's the greatest thing on earth. I can't believe I fell for that, once. It's so embarrassing. What's he even doing here?

I don't know how long I'd been standing and staring, my jaw loose from the shock, but just as I'm about to run away and find a hole to hide in, he turned. His eyes locked onto mine, and his lips turned up into an even bigger smile. Oh shit.

Shit! Move, feet! Damn it. Get me the hell out of here.

Shutting my mouth, I swallowed against the tightness of my throat as he walked over to me in his navy-blue suit. Okay, I don't know whether he's actually walking over here, or I'm imagining it. Reality is hard to grasp at the moment. I can't even tell if I'm fucking real or where I am anymore.

Eric is here? In Durham? And of all the places, at Ann-Marie's wedding? What are the chances?

Chapter 7

Eric

My skin prickled from being watched. Out of the corner of my eye, I sensed someone standing there. When I turned around, it took me a moment to recognize her without the long, black hair, dark makeup, and baggy, black clothes. I almost looked away, creeped out, until I noticed her septum piercing, her thick dark eyebrows, and the barbed-wire tattoo across her arm. She always said it felt like she was living in a cage of barbed wire.

Lily.

And she's hot as hell. I can't help the smile that spreads across my face. Lily, in a garden of flowers, and she stands out amongst them all. A short, messy, dirty-blond bob shows off her striking jawline. Her lips are like wine. They match her dress, but it's subtle. My pulse races at the thought of kissing them again. And that dress? It clings to her slight curves and slender body. It's not skin-tight, but it's like the material can't resist touching all of her. Even the way it flutters across her knee with the breeze gives me chills.

Upon first glance, she's not the Lily I used to know, but she's the one I want to meet all over again. Gone are all my boyish attractions and boyish thoughts of her. I want to make up for all the time lost, love her the way a man loves a woman.

It's been a while since I've been speechless, even breathless when my body isn't exhausted. I always know the right thing to say, but as I stepped off toward her, I wrestled with the words biting at my tongue. Should I approach this with an apology first or compliment her beauty? Do I go in for the hug of long-separated friends or do I ask her how she's doing?

I didn't get the chance.

"Lily!"

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