“Yep. My wedding dress. It’s toast. He had me walk in the water, and by the time he took those pictures, my dress was weighted down and wet. I figured that was all he had in mind until he said we could add a little paint to finish it off for good.”
“Paint? This is getting good,” Anna says while beaming at me.
“Yeah, he ended up calling a friend who has a studio they’re remodeling, and they gave him permission to use it for our paint-filled impromptu photo shoot. We grabbed pizza, and when we got there, I realized it was a recording studio,” I tell her.
“How interesting,” she says. “Who is this mystery singer in his life?”
I shrug my shoulders. “All I know is she’s his friend.”
“So, he does have friends of the opposite sex, yeah?” she asks.
I laugh at her. “It would seem so. Anyway, long story short, he had some paint he’d recently used at his bar with him, and we used it on my dress.”
I’m quiet as I sip more coffee, waiting on her to process and ask her next question.
Her eyes widen with my silence. “Well, where is the trashed dress now?”
“I’m not sure. I told him he could keep it,” I say, not caring whether he did or didn’t.
“And how exactly did you get out of the dress? It wasn’t the easiest feat putting it on…it took me, you, and your mom,” she adds.
I just grin as she sits with her mouth open and I finally push it closed with my finger under her chin.
“You went from celibacy to what? A one-night stand? Are you seeing him again?” Anna asks all at once.
“Oh no. I won’t be seeing him again. Not romantically anyway. I told him I’d let him know when and if I want the pictures he took. If I decide I don’t want them, I won’t have any reason to see him at all,” I say as much to her as myself.
“Right, you’re telling me you wouldn’t love to see that gorgeous man again, especially after he made your wrecked day a magical one. Okay, noted. My best friend is delusional, or in denial. At this point I’m not sure,” she says, while acting like she’s writing on her hand.
I throw a pillow at her, and she bursts out laughing. “Was it at least good?”
“Oh my gosh, Anna. You don’t need a play-by-play. But yes, it was good,” I admit aloud and feel heat rush to my cheeks.
“Just good?” Anna asks whimsically.
It’s my turn to laugh at her and then I close my eyes. “Okay, Anna. Yes, he was amazing. The man knew what he was doing and left me in awe of what we’d just done. But it was a split-second decision in the heat of the moment. It was a choice I made to keep me from crumbling after learning my ex-fiancé had been sleeping with another woman for the better part of a year. I needed…I don’t know what exactly. I needed to feel wanted. And I did for one night,” I tell her.
She tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “No matter how he did it, I’m glad he could make you forget your heartbreak for a little while. I’ll take over from here. I promise, it’ll get better. You deserve someone who makes you feel beautiful, wanted, and that your heart is safe. You’ll have that and more. I know it,” she says as she squeezes my hand.
I sniffle as a tear escapes, and I quickly swipe it away. “What movie do you want to watch with me?”
Anna gets comfortable as I grab the remote. “You’re driving, hunny-bunny. I’m along for the ride.”
“I’ll never steer us wrong, tootsie-wootsie,” I answer as we search for the perfect movie to make us fall in love with love again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Zander
SIX WEEKS LATER...
My phone rings as I sit at my home office desk with my laptop editing the pictures I took of Scarlett in all her sunshine-but-heartbroken glory. Something in her eyes tells me she’s real, as in down-to-earth. The kind of woman that brings a real man to his knees.
I’m frozen on one of the photos of her standing in the water, the sun is setting in the background as she stares right at me through the camera lens. There’s a shyness there as she tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear. And a woman like Scarlett has nothing to be shy about. As far as her appearance is concerned, she’s downright gorgeous. She has ample curves in all the places that make my mouth water. And even though I’ve spent limited time with her, she seems to have a personality anyone would bring home to meet their mama.
My phone rings again, effectively shaking me from thoughts of my little glimpse of sunshine and I frown when I see the callerID. I hit decline and turn my phone over. The number didn’t have a programmed name any longer, no. I deleted her name years ago. But I’ll never forget it. It’s Vivian. I don’t know what she could possibly want from me, but whatever it is, it’s nothing good, not after all this time.
I pick my cell back up and ponder for a moment. It rings for a third time. I decline again, then do something I should’ve done long ago. I block her number. There’s no reason she should ever contact me for anything, nor should my ex-best friend.