Page 2 of Love Unavoidable
“Yup.”
“So, we could use one to leave?”
“I guess. But we can’t just leave, can we? I mean, what do I tell everyone? Shit, what do I tell Aaron? Wait . . . if we just disappear, does that mean I don’t have to talk to Aaron? ‘Cause I kind of don’t want to. Let’s do that, let’s just disappear. That would be easiest for me all the way around.”
“No, he’ll look for you forever. Like the poster child for missing fiancées. You definitely have to talk to him,” she says.
“How do I get him out here? ‘Cause I amnotgoing in there.”
And before I can even blink, she throws open those double doors and strides down the aisle as though she hasn’t a care in the world. No bouquet grasped tightly in front of her. No coquettish smile for the cameras. No step, together, pause; step, together, pause. She throws her shoulders back, holds her head high, and uses the white velvet runner as her own personal cat walk.
I scramble up to peek through the small crack between the heavy wooden double doors. She’s already reached Aaron at the front of the room by the time the musicians realize they should go back to playing Pachelbel’sCanon in D,confusing everyone in attendance, I am sure. I watch his boyishly handsome face with the smooth skin, aquiline nose, and full lips go from expectant to discombobulated in a matter of seconds when Tenley leans up to whisper in his ear.
I’m glad it’s her and not me. No way in hell do I want to take responsibility for putting that look on Aaron’s face. He excuses himself and races down the aisle. Stopping only once he is standing in front of me. He must know something is wrong since I haven’t walked down the aisle yet. But instead of being angry or impatient, he looks worried.
“Sweetheart? Sadie, are you okay? Tenley said you needed to see me. Are you feeling okay?” He puts his cool palms on my heated cheeks, then moves one to my forehead. Finding my temperature to his satisfaction, he moves his hands to my biceps and runs them up and down my arms in a soothing motion.
Oh god. How do I say this? How do I break his heart to save mine?“I—”
My parents burst through the doors.
“Sadie? Sad—oh, there you are,” my mom says, rolling her eyes. “Making everybody wait on you. What in tarnation is going on, girl? You got the jitters or what? We just been standing inside there to walk you down the aisle. And you’re lollygagging out here. Let’s get going.” I avoid looking at my mama, meeting my daddy’s gaze instead. Like he’s been able to since I was a girl, he sees my every emotion in my eyes. Giving me a small nod, he takes my mama’s hand.
“Let’s give the kids a minute, dear.” He turns and pulls her down the hall, she complains the entire way, probably about me. I am not sure if I am glad they didn’t go back inside the ballroom or not. I’m also not sure if that look on my daddy’s face was sadness or relief.
I turn back toward Aaron. His gaze softens when our eyes meet. He looks hurt already and I haven’t even said anything.
What the fuck am I doing?
Have I mentioned that Aaron is a great guy? He should be the image next to the phrase “great guy” on dictionary.com. Besides being attentive and loyal, he volunteers at the senior center delivering meals to those in town who can’t get around much any longer. He saves snails on the sidewalk. Like, picks them up and moves them from concrete to grass or plant so they don’t get stepped on. He rinses his recyclables and sorts them the proper way. Even going so far as to make sure there aren’t pizza remnants in the delivery box before putting it in the bin.
I mean, who does that?
He was beloved in our high school: student body president, homecoming king, varsity football quarterback, honor roll. And that adoration just continued when he played football at Texas A&M, and even more so when he returned home after graduation to work with his parents running their accounting firm.
Everyone loves him.
Even me.
I am just notin lovewith him.
Which is what I tell him.
Sort of.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, sticking out my lower lip so my bangs blow up with the force. “I can’t marry you, Aaron.”
His mouth falls open and his eyes widen. His head now reminiscent of a bowling ball where all I see are three round holes. A giggle escapes at the thought of rolling his head down the aisle. I slap my hand over my mouth.
Fuck. Fuckety Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He laughs at first, but his face returns to normal faster than I would like. “Are we joking? Is this a joke? Like a prank on film?” He looks around as though ready to spot a film crew at any moment and someone yelling, “You’ve been punked!”
“No,” I whisper.
“No, it’s not a joke?”
I shake my head and look down at my feet.
