Page 9 of Embracing Trust

I crawl back into bed and prop an extra pillow under my head. I stare up at my ceiling fan and become mesmerized by the slow whirl until eventually, my eyes become heavy, and I fall into a deep sleep. And no doubt there will be dreams of the adult version of the man who I’ve never stopped loving.

***

Ryan

Lying in bed, I can’t sleep for shit tonight. The green illuminated numbers of the alarm clock show it’s after midnight. I’m tired, but I can’t get that sassy little brunette out of my head. If she wore that red dress to keep me from sleeping tonight, she succeeded. That dress hugged every curve on her body and has had my cock on alert all evening. Anytime she laughed or bent over—even slightly—I caught a glimpse of her cleavage. I let out a groan and roll onto my back. And those legs. Had her legs always been that long or was it just the dress? And I don’t know what she was doing with that margarita glass. How could things have gone so wrong between us all those years ago? I close my eyes and my mind drifts back nearly ten years to a time when a pink dress caught my attention.

“I don’t even know how to dance,” I said to Julia as she dragged me across the dance floor of the crowded gymnasium at Claremont High School. The pink dress was a smooth silk-type fabric with a neckline that gave just a hint of cleavage.

“Youinvitedme, remember?” She smirked and once she found a vacant spot on the floor, she guided my hands to her hips and placed her hands on my shoulders.

No, it wasn’t bad. Not bad at all. As a matter of fact, it felt so good holding her hips in my hungry seventeen-year-old hands that I wanted to do more. So much more.

The first time I’d seen her was in this same gym at a basketball game. She was sitting in the same section with her friends as I was with mine. It was ninth grade—my first year at public school.

“How about some ice cream,” I asked as the song was ending.

“I have to be home by eleven.”

Julia had no idea that even though it was our first official date, she was already tattooed on my heart, with her brand burned into my skin forever. I knew, right then and there, I would never let her go until I had to.

I roll back over to my side and stare at the green numerals on the clock. I have a feeling that whatever Julia wears for the wedding is going to get my attention. I close my eyes and eventually manage to drift off to sleep.

My sleep pattern from the military is still unchanged. I wake at my usual four a.m. and can’t get back to sleep. My muscles jitter and I’m restless. I slide out of bed and dress in my athletic shorts, a t-shirt, and my running shoes. I tiptoe through the living room, so I don’t wake my brother and sister-in-law, and slip out the front door, locking it behind me. I pop in my earbuds and the first selection of my playlist comes to life as I take off down the streets of Monroe. While I was in the Army, my time running through the roads on my post took away the stresses of the day and I became reliant on that time I got to spend in my own thoughts.

Ten miles later, I let myself back into the bungalow. The smell of fresh coffee permeates my senses and I’m thankful that either Patrick or Lydia already has the pot brewing in the kitchen.

Thankfully, I managed to sleep through the night. No nightmares or night sweats—this time anyway. That makes twice this week. Maybe I will get through my battle with these demons after all.

Chapter Six

Julia

The early evening wedding offers hints of a beautiful setting sun through the stained-glass windows of the sanctuary. The soft candlelight illuminates from the altar and gives a semblance of the romantic mood that Amy dreamed of while planning her special day.

Our bridesmaids’ dresses glow golden brown with an intricate lace off-the-shoulder bodice and flowing skirt. A silky, jeweled ribbon around the waist gives the dress a touch of glamour. Clutched in our hands are flowers of various shades of soft pink and peach with gold accents.

The melody of the string quartet resonates throughout the sanctuary as the violinists, cellist, and violist draw their bows across the strings and deliver a symphonious sound. I love the less traditional music for the bride’s entrance, and I can easily see myself doing something similar when I plan my own wedding. You can never go wrong with a string quartet.

I wait for the wedding coordinator to give me a quick once-over and nod her approval as I prepare to follow Amy’s cousin, Connie, down the aisle. The photographer steps out from a pew to snap my picture.

Smile. Shoulders back, stomach in.

I would prefer to be where the photographer is—out of the limelight and without hundreds of guests watching me navigate my way down the aisle. I haven’t always been so introverted. As a matter of fact, I used to be quite outgoing until my father stripped that away. The embarrassment he caused my family—and especially my mother—has put me into a shell that at times, one I can’t escape.

I focus on ensuring solid steps, so I don’t take a tumble in these heels. When I catch a glimpse of the groom, he’s beaming, and I swear his smile lights up the whole place. My eyes scan the line of handsome groomsmen as they stand with their hands folded in front of them wearing black tuxedos. The stark white shirts radiate in the overhead pendant lighting and with the black cummerbunds and bowties, the men truly stand out. A gold pocket-handkerchief highlights the ensemble. My eyes meet Ryan’s, and he gives me a wink and a nod.

Talk about eye candy. This isn’t the teenaged guy who took me to my high school prom. This is the grown-up sexy version.

Weddings always tend to tug at my heart strings, but this one has me in tears. Maybe it’s disappointment on my part—sadness even. I will be thirty in a few years and although I love my career and I’m proud of my accomplishments, marriage and children have always been part of the plan. And seeing Ryan front and center is a reminder of my disappointment.

I stand next to Connie and my breath catches as I see Amy and her father appear in the doorway to the sanctuary. Amy is breathtaking and looks like a princess in the white ball gown.

With his chin held high and a gleam in his eye, Amy’s father escorts her to the aura of a string quartet. I smile and swallow the lump in my throat.

Kevin and Amy’s closest family and friends witness as they exchange vows and eventually greet guests in a receiving line. I stand with my friends as the newlyweds leave the church surrounded by the crowd who shower them with good wishes. The newlyweds scurry to the waiting car.

There’s a tap on my shoulder and I turn to see Ryan. “Anyone ever tell you that you could break some hearts in that dress?” he asks as his eyes devour me from head to toe.

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