Page 76 of Second Chance Ex
10. Lastly, and this is something I’m not proud to have to confess, but if I’m laying it all on the line, then I know I need to tell you. I just hope that you can forgive me… I never slept with that woman in Las Vegas. Yes, we kissed—which is still cheating, I know—but we never had sex. And I only told you that we did because I knew you wanted an out, and I was willing to give you one, even if it meant me being the villain, and even if it meant people might hate me. The truth is, I haven’t slept with anyone since you, because no matter what, I’ll always be yours.I said forever, and I meant it.
J
I look up, staring at the far wall, my mind reeling.
What the fuck?
I glance over the words again, skimming each truth, confession and secret, trying so hard to make sense of what he’s written, and why. But before I can analyze the list any longer, there’s a knock on the door, the wedding coordinator poking her flustered head inside.
“Hey, sorry, Prue. But we’re really pressed for time.” She taps her watch as if to emphasize the matter, her smile tight and in no way matching the look of exasperation in her eyes.
Swallowing hard, I nod once, forcing a smile of my own before tucking Joey’s handwritten confession into my makeup bag and hurrying out of the room to the tune of my heart whooshing deafeningly in my ears.
With the rate my heart is beating, you’d think I was the one getting married.
My anxiety piqued the moment I followed Ryan to the altar, all one-hundred-and-thirty sets of eyes laser-focused on us. But now, as the acoustic guitarist starts to strum the first few chords ofCan’t Help Falling in Love, my palms are sweaty, and it feels like this fucking tie is trying to choke the living shit out of me.
Yes, I’m wearing a tie. And not just any tie, a motherfucking bowtie. And only because I’m pretty sure Maddy would have cut off my balls had I not agreed to wear the damn thing. I told her as soon as the photos are done, I’m ripping the fucking thing off and throwing it into the lake. She reluctantly agreed.
But who am I kidding? It’s not a piece of material that’s currently choking me. It’s the thought of coming face-to-face with Prue again. It’s been six weeks. Sixexcruciatingly long weeks. But I kept her wish and I stayed away. I mean, sure, I may have checked her Instagram every other hour, and I might have even found myself driving past her house every time I was in Rosewood, but I haven’t contacted her. I haven’t even tried to enlist the help of Ryan or Madison to do my dirty work. I’ve gone cold turkey for six weeks, and it’s damn near killed me.
Now, I’m like an addict, tempted by his one vice, my stomach is in knots and sweat beads the back of my neck as I stare down the aisle, at the flagstone steps leading from the main house, knowing that at any second, she’s going to be right there in that very spot, and I am going to freak the fuck out.
I wonder if she read my one-page confession. And, if she did, does she hate me? Did I ruin whatever little chance we might have had by telling her the truths I’ve kept hidden from her over the years? God, I fucking hope not. That wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to be honest with my girl, because even if we never get the happy ending that we deserve, I need her to know all the truth; the good, the bad, the ugly, and the downright embarrassing.
Heath shoulders me in my side, and I realize that I’ve been daydreaming. When I look up, I stand a little straighter, squaring my shoulders, watching on as the procession begins with Ryan’s adorable five-year-old niece starting her way up the aisle, tossing petals in the air like a goddamn champ.
Seconds later, the bridesmaids begin walking down the steps, starting with Milly, and then after a moment Heather joins. And then, suddenly and without sufficient warning, I’m looking directly at the love ofmy life as she starts walking up the aisle, her striking gaze meeting mine in the flash of an instant, so quick I almost missed it before her eyes quickly dart away. And holy shit. She looks…I don’t even know what word could possibly describe just how beautiful Prue looks right now. But beautiful doesn’t even begin to cut. Her beauty in this moment is surprisingly painful, clutching my heart and squeezing the life out of it.
Her dress is the color of a summer’s dusk sky, and it shimmers with every movement, skimming her sexy curves, the split teasing a hint of her leg, all the way up to those delicious thighs of hers that I can’t get enough of. I assume she’s not wearing a bra given the skinny straps of the dress, and her tits look phenomenal. Her hair is swept back in a fancy twist-thing, soft tendrils falling delicately, framing her face.
Prue is like a timeless piece of art; I can’t stop looking at her. Just the sight of her makes everything else fade into the background, and I genuinely feel sorry for Madison having to compete with a vision like Prue on her wedding day. It almost isn’t fair.
God, I can’t breathe. It’s like I’ve somehow forgotten the simple concept of air in, air out, holding my breath without realizing; something I didn’t even think was physically possible. My heart lurches in my chest and, quite inappropriately I might add, considering this is a wedding and there’s a fucking five-year-old nearby, my dick twitches in response to my girl walking down the aisle, eyes still fixed intently on everything but my general vicinity.
Prue smiles at those she passes along the way, nodding occasionally to the familiar faces. When she spots her parents in the crowd, she flashes her dad acheeky little wink, and I don’t know why, but that makes my heart melt; the relationship she has with her parents—particularly her dad—it’s something else, and yet another thing I love about her, on the long list of things I love about Prue Watson.
Ryan steps forward and I stay back, watching on enviously as he and Prue share a meaningful embrace, my hands flexing behind my back with the need to punch something or someone—preferably not my best friend for something as innocent as a hug on his wedding day—but maybe Heath, I don’t know.
Mentally, I will Prue to look at me, to meet my eyes once more, but she won’t. In fact, as she moves to her position, I get the distinct feeling she’s doing all she can to avoid my direction, staring straight ahead at the aisle.
As the guests all stand, Madison starts walking toward Ryan, her mother accompanying her up the aisle. And while I’ll admit she looks stunning and ever the blushing bride, glowing and beautiful in that way that is so quintessentially Madison, I’m afraid my attention is still wholeheartedly captivated by someone else, my sideway gaze fixed on the beautiful woman who will forever own my heart.
Then, like magic, just as Ryan takes Madison’s hand and they step up onto the altar, asCan’t Help Falling in Lovecrescendos, those soft chocolate eyes with swirls of gold finally meet mine, and in that one moment, something obvious and undeniable passes between us. And, call me crazy, but I know without a sliver of a doubt, Prue Watson is still my girl.
“Okay,it’d be really great if… Maid of Honor?” The photographer snaps his fingers in Prue’s direction. “Yeah, you.”
Prue scoffs at the man’s flagrant rudeness. I swallow a chuckle.
The photographer continues with a condescending smirk aimed at Prue. “It’d be great if you could at least look like youdon'twant to cut off the Best Man’s balls and feed ‘em to the dogs.” He winks at me, offering a chin-nod. “Huge fan, JT.”
Heath cackles loudly, and I spear him with a shut-the-fuck-up glower.
“What a fucking dick,” Milly mutters through a fake-ass smile.
“How much longer?” Heather wines. “I’m dying for a pee.”
I glance down to find Prue’s face completely emotionless, but if the little twitch in her eye is anything to go by, I can tell she’s about three seconds away from losing her ever-loving shit. And I can’t say I blame her; we’ve been out here for-fucking-ever, the music and the merriment of people having way too fun without us floating through the air from the cocktail hour is only adding to our frustrations.
