Page 12 of Wrecked
CHAPTER 6
ELLIE (PRESENT)
Ican’t walk down that goddamn aisle.
I sit up in bed after another sleepless night. Thoughts about a conversation I should never have entertained kept me awake until the early morning hours. Nate’s imposing whisper was the star of last night’s show. I shiver thinking about his hot breath traveling down my neck, setting my skin on fire. A fire that is quickly extinguished when I remember how he ended our conversation with words that will implode all of our lives.
The sun glares at me through my bedside window even though it’s only just begun to rise. The radiant beams feel offensive at this hour, especially as they temporarily blind me. My eyes water from the intensity, so I throw my pillow over my face to block out the light. It almost feels intentional, like the sun might actually hate me. This must be my karma for all of the inappropriate dreams I’ve been having. My punishment? Forever forced to wake early with the blinding sun beating down on my face.
God, I really need sleep.
It has been four days, and the dark circles under my eyes arestarting to take on a life of their own. Four days and that one little sentence has been playing like a record scratch on my brain. I hear it when I try to sleep. I hear it the second I wake up. In the shower. At work. I can’t go five damn minutes without thinking about it.
I pull my hair in frustration. I want to cry about the implications of those words. I want to ignore the thrill that rips through me when I consider his motive for saying them. Then…I want to walk straight into traffic because of the shame I feel for loving that thrill.
Hebrokeme. His past actions set me on a path toward complete self-destruction. What does this say about me? All this man has to do is utter a few semi-confusing words and I am ready to betray my sister for him.
I should have called Katie the second he said it. I should have marched right inside after him and demandedhetell her. So why didn’t I? I’m trying to believe it’s because I don’t want to be responsible for my sister’s pain, but I just don’t know how true that really is.
I need to get a grip. His emotions were elevated, and he probably didn’t even mean it. Hecouldn’thave meant it. That would break my sister, and I can’t let that happen. She doesn’t deserve it.
What shedoesdeserve is a man who longs to walk down the aisle toward the life he’d have beside her. I’m just not so sure that man is Nate.
I hear my phone ringing from the front of my apartment and toss the white feather duvet off of my body. I normally hate to part from the luxury it provides, but now it just feels like a heavy burden, suffocating me with its deceitful promise of comfort. There’s no point in trying to get more sleep, anyway. Not when the sun is punishing me for my indecent thoughts.
I huff as I roll off the side of my mattress, in no real hurry to get to my phone. In fact, I hope it stops ringing before I evenmake it outside of my bedroom. There is only one person who would call me this early, and it’s the same person I’ve been avoiding for the past four days.
Katie and I haven’t gone more than a day or two without talking since she left for college. She moved back home with Nate six months ago, not long after his father died, so we try to see each other at least once a week. I know she’s confused over my sudden absence. I just can’t bring myself to face her, but I also can’t hide forever.
We are supposed to be leaving for Brazil in one week. Nate made it clear that we were still going to get Katie’s dress, and I have no idea how to interpret that. Why would he want to get herweddingdress if he doesn’t intend on marrying her? That should satisfy any uncertainty on whether his revelation was authentic. He’s going to marry her. He has to because it doesn’t make sense otherwise. But the look on his face told a very different story.
On one hand, I want to hear him out. I’vealwayswanted to hear him out.Hejust never tried to be heard before. On the other hand, I am nauseous just thinking about listening to anything that would hurt Katie.
I sigh in frustration as I make my way down the short hallway to my living room. I left my phone on the coffee table next to an empty bottle of Merlot. I’ve taken to self-medicating in my desperate attempt to get a full night of sleep. Spoiler alert…it didn’t work. Now all I have is a wine headache, asuspiciouslybright sun, and a blaring phone at six in the morning.
I grab my phone and plop down on the couch, taking a deep breath as I prepare for this round of twenty questions. I already know she’s going to be pissed.
“Hello?”
“Ellison Grace Hansel! Where thefuckhave you been?”
That’s not dramatic or anything.
“Sorry, Katie-cat, I haven’t been feeling well. I didn’t mean to worry you,” I lie. I seem to be doing that a lot more often lately.
“Jesus, Els, I was worried. Let me know next time so I stop blowing up your phone. How are you feeling now?”
“Oh…uh… I’m…I feel a lot better,” I stutter through my deceit. Practice does not, in fact, make perfect. Despite all the half-truths I’ve been delivering lately, my fib game is no stronger than it was two weeks ago.
“Good! Because we are going to dinner tonight. Nathan finally settled his father’s estate, so we are going to celebrate.”
Just the mention of his name induces a minor panic attack. My pulse skyrockets, and waves of heat overwhelm my body. I’m sweaty and shaky, making my fake illness appear a lot more believable right now.
I jump up from the couch and anxiously pace my living room. Is it too early for wine? Time check says it’s six-fifteen.
In the morning.
Some may frown at that…Iam not some. I grab a bottle of Malbec and a corkscrew and get to work. “I’m not sure I’m feelingthatmuch better, Katie.” My voice is strained as I work to get the cork out of my salvation.
