Page 13 of Trash the Dress

I glance back at the computer screen again, this time finding the picture of the yellow paint covering her hands and dress as she clutched her chest. The weight of her heartbreak finally settling in. I reminisce for a moment about what came next. The touches and kisses. The sex. It’s too bad I met her after Vivian instead of before. If I had a heart left to give, I’d hand it to Scarlett without question.

She’ll find her happily ever after with someone worthy. She deserves it. Her heartbreak won’t define her story the way mine has. I know that much from spending one night with her. She was already smiling and standing on her own. I, on the other hand, was on the floor metaphorically and sometimes physically too.

I save the photos to my computer as “my little sunshine” before closing my laptop. It took me a while because I wasn’t sure she’d want them anyway, and I wasn’t sure that I should stare into her eyes again—even on a computer screen.

But I’ve edited them now, and they’ll be ready anytime she wants to get them…if she ever does. She told me that night that she might not ever want to see them. And I understand why. No one wants to be reminded of heartache and humiliation like a cheating significant other, especially in the manner she found out.

I stand and hang my head while pushing my chair in. I did end up keeping her dress. My gaze finds it right where I left it hanging on a hook by where I used to paint. I walk over and run my fingers over the stiff material and get an idea to photograph it again. But this time I’ll paint the girl.

After hours of staring at the canvas, painting careful strokes, I’m finally satisfied. The painting is of Scarlett. Her blue eyes stare back at me over her bare shoulder as her dark hair cascades down her back. She has a white dress shirt lowered, covering her backside, and in my mind’s eye, she’s naked underneath. The same way she looked at me after we had sex that night and then stole my shirt. If I had a heart to give, she would have probably stolen it that night too.

I back up to study my work and position the dress to the side of the canvas. Then I pick up my camera and snap them together in a photograph. I take several from different angles to get the right light.

I’m about to open my laptop again when my phone interrupts me. I glance at the display and see Hawk’s number on the screen. My heart races a bit. He and Brittney are expecting their baby any day now. Brittney made him promise to call.

“Is it time?” I ask instead of saying hello.

“Yeah, Z. Can you come on down to the hospital? You know she wanted you to come,” he says before I hear Brittney’s voice in the background. Hawk speaks up again and says while laughing, “We both want you to be there.”

“Real smooth, Hawk. I hope that smack stung because I know she wacked you,” I say as I grab my keys and grin to myself. Hawk and I haven’t always seen eye to eye. But we both love Brittney. My love is purely platonic. And his is…well, the kind you see in movies and read about in books. They go together like coffee goes with caffeine or milk goes with cookies.

Brittney and I became close friends, and yeah, I might have been physically attracted to her for, like…five minutes. But it was just that. Once we got to know each other, we leaned on one another about our heartbreaks. Now she’s like family, and so is Hawk. But we still like to heckle each other from time to time.

“I’m on my way. Can I bring anything?” I ask while sliding my wallet into my back pocket.

“She’s gonna want a burger from High Road when she’s clear to eat again,” he says in a light tone. He seems incredibly calm and I don’t know how. I’d be a nervous wreck if I were about to have a baby.

Brittney chimes in from the background. “You know how I like them, Z! Tell Danny I’ll want a songbird milkshake too!”

Hawk chuckles. “You got all that?”

“Can’t believe you’d doubt me, Hawk. I got it covered. I might even bring you something too,” I say as I jump in my truck.

“All right, I’m going to let you go. We’re almost at the hospital. I’m about to be a dad, man,” he says a little shaky, a little excited meaning he isn’t as calm as I thought…good to know.

“You are. And you’ll be a damn good one too,” I say as I end the call.

I call Dad while I’m driving. “Hey, son. Everything okay?”

“It is actually. I’m headed to Greendale Med. Hawk and Brittney are having their baby. She wanted to tell you she’ll need her songbird milkshake once things are settled,” I tell him.

Dad chuckles. “I can’t believe our little songbird is about to become a mom. And you let her know to call when she’s ready and I’ll get her milkshake to her ASAP,” he says ending the call.

Dad dubbed her our little songbird when she first started singing at our bar. And he concocted a milkshake just for her and called it the songbird milkshake. It’s chocolate ice cream, strawberry ice cream, with exactly three cherries on the bottomand three on top with whipped cream and caramel drizzle as well.

I smile as I get close to the hospital. This baby will likely be the closest thing to a niece, nephew, or my own child that I’ll ever get, and that’s honestly okay with me. I don’t know anything about being a dad. If I can’t open up my heart to a woman, I think that’s doubly true for bringing a baby into this world. I would screw up. No kid would ever need me as a father. Even if Vivian’s actions hadn’t jaded me, it’s just not a title I’ve ever wanted, or think I’m close to worthy of having.

Nope. Uncle Z gets to spoil this baby and send them home with their parents. I don’t have to worry about a woman hurting me because I don’t have one anyway. If I need companionship for a short time, I can get that no strings attached in a few places. I have my parents, High Road Bar, my art when I’m so inclined, and that’s all I need. All is right with the world.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Scarlett

The cold tile comforts me after spending all night and morning hugging the toilet. I feel so weak I can barely move. I had a meeting with a client in Greendale Valley oddly enough. I haven’t been here since my bachelorette party a little over six or seven weeks ago. Just a week before the failed event that was supposed to be my would-be wedding. When my client asked for a face-to-face meeting to discuss the plans for their dream home, I came.

If I’m being honest, it was nice to get away for a bit. I didn’t have time to explore this little town on my last visit, so I booked a room in a local B and B for a couple nights. We had salads at our lunch meeting, and I started feeling queasy not long after. I must have food poisoning.

I try to sit up and feel queasy again. I’ve got to be dehydrated from all the vomiting. I think I may need to get some IV fluids or something. I spy my phone on the floor next to me where I left it and contemplate calling Anna to come get me. I don’t need to drive in this state.

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