Page 104 of Harrison's Wedding

It takes a few seconds before his response comes through.

Sure. I’d better just check with her before we book the Elvis impersonator. Give me a minute.

I laugh and send him through a GIF of someone looking at their watch impatiently before I go back to re-watching the interview. I analyze Heather’s every movement and word spoken.

I know her so well; I can see she’s tense, and I know exactly how she could relax. I pause the screen with Heather in the frame. Her dress has ridden up a little and more of her thigh is exposed.

I’m not sure why this is so erotic to me. I have pictures in my phone of Heather so much more exposed than this, and yet, I can feel my cock stir at the sight of her leg alone.

I look at my phone, sitting innocently on the sofa next to me. I pick it up and unlock it, opening the locked photo album I have on here.

I’m treated to a host of pictures of Heather, naked and on display for me. There are plenty of us together, but she is in every one of these photos.

My cock is as hard as steel now, and I reach into my pants to begin stroking it. I scroll through the pictures, wishing Heather was here so I could fuck her.

I’m frustrated when a text from Sebastian pops up on the screen.

Good news, she was just saying that for the cameras. Vegas wedding is probably on.

I dismiss the notification and am back looking at Heather, but I’ve been reminded of everything.

It all comes crashing back to my mind. The tense silence in our apartment, Heather sleeping in another bed, awkward counseling sessions, and finally, the memories of Maddy that instantly kill my erection.

Guilt that I’d dared to use these photos as masturbation material overwhelms me. I don’t deserve these photos. They were taken for her honey. That’s not me. She’s not mine anymore. Not really.

I pull my hand out of my pants and go get a drink of whisky. I sit and drink while I watch the interview over and over until bedtime. When I’m in bed, I search Heather’s name online.

She went to a club in New York with Hayden and Ally tonight. There are pictures of her both entering and leaving. She is, without a single doubt in my mind, the most beautiful woman in the world.

I click an article about their night out and it’s accompanied by a picture that stops my heart. Someone has taken an amazing photo of the three of them.

The photo is a candid picture of Heather dancing with Hayden and Ally. The couple is obvious in the picture, with Hayden’s arms wrapped around Ally’s waist, but Heather has her head thrown back with a massive smile on her face.

She looks free. She’s completely unencumbered without her cheating fiancé nearby. Relaxed, happy, and able to enjoy herself on her night out.

I can’t recall the last time that I saw Heather like this. I hate myself for what I’ve done to her. It feels as though our relationship is doomed to end. She will know now that she can’t do it, I think.

She can’t marry me.

* * *

I wakeup the next morning with a heavy heart. I dreamed about Heather last night. My dreams are the sweetest parts of my days now. They’re full of love and sex and a life that I wish more than anything was mine.

The moments before everything comes back to me are bittersweet. I frequently feel confused by the lack of Heather before I remember. I lie in bed and stare at the roof before I close my eyes and picture her from last night.

She’s flying back from New York today; then we’re seeing Brendan this afternoon. I’m dreading it. I feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. We can’t get married like this, but I don’t want to end our engagement. I would marry her today, but I don’t deserve her.

The familiar bile taste comes to my mouth as memories of Maddy come into my mind.

“Fuck off, already,” I say aloud to no one.

I grab my phone and see several texts from Sebastian, concerned that he upset me with his jokes last night because I didn’t respond. I send him a reply.

No, it was funny. I just fell asleep.

It doesn’t take long for him to reply.

Want me to come over today?

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