Page 3 of Love in Training
“Quandary Peak isn’t far from here,” our mother cuts in, sounding shell-shocked. “You can reach the summit without any gear.”
I look at her gratefully and nod.
Theo follows her out as Lydia reenters and hands me my bag—the one I was supposed to take this evening on a flight to Cancun. She turns me around without a word and starts unlacing the back of my dress.
“If Kyle thinks he can do this to me...” My voice quakes as she works. “He’s the one who’s going to need to beprotected.”
Lydia places a gentle hand on my shoulder, and when I turn to look at her face, I burst into tears.
“I love him, Lydia.” She guides me to a nearby couch where I collapse, sobbing into her arms. “Goddammit, I hate him. But Istilllove him so much.”
Once Lydia frees me from my prison of fine fabrics, Theo and I sneak toward a side door, intent on making a break for his car while Anton does damage control with the guests left behind in the church. My hair is still picture perfect, but I washed off my ruined makeup. At least in my hoodie and sneakers, I can pretend I feel like myself.
“Let’s get out of here,” Theo says, squeezing my hand as he opens the exit door.
But the moment we step outside, we nearly collide with a tall figure in a suit. I gasp in confusion at the familiar large frame,the dark hair—but the glasses, those are wrong. My brother steps forward with his chest puffed up.
“What areyoudoing here?”
Air reenters my lungs, and my brain catches up. If not for the uncanny resemblance to my former fiancé, I would never have recognized his estranged brother.
Drew Forbes looks from my brother to me, taking in our casual attire, brows drawn together. “I... came for the wedding.”
And with this, my heart has had quite enough.
“There is no wedding,” I sneer. “There never will be.”
I brush past him, making a beeline for my brother’s car. I don’t notice until we’re pulling out of the parking lot that I’m still wearing Kyle’s ring.
Theo and I spend my wedding day hiking the arduous trail to the top of Quandary Peak. We hug each other, crying, at the fourteen-thousand-foot summit and hardly say a word on the way back down.
I don’t remember Kyle’s envelope until the next day, when I dump out my purse.
Maybe he thought I’d see it and be able to call off the ceremony before anyone arrived at the church in fine dresses and suits. But if his intentions were good, I don’t feel like giving him any credit. He could have spared me a lot of pain by just saying something to my face.
My name is on the envelope in simple black script. On the back, it saysI’m Sorry.
I can’t bring myself to open it. My inclination is to rip it to shreds. Burn the pieces. Maybe mail him the ashes. My mom stops me before I get the chance.
“You’re not ready to read whatever’s in this right now,” she says. “You might not ever be. But in case that ever changes, let me hold on to it.”
I don’t say anything. Don’t nod. But I let her take it out of my hands. Put it away somewhere in her house. I don’t ask where—I don’t want to know. I just zip my beautiful wedding gown into its garment bag, take it home, and shove it to the back of my closet.
Sunday, June 6, 20__, 10:58 PM
From:[email protected]
Subject: no subject
Dear Kyle,
Since you weren’t brave enough to say goodbye to my face, I’ll say it here, in a bland fucking email. Maybe I ought to say thanks for “protecting” me from a lifetime of love. All you’ve really done is deny yourself something you clearly didn’t deserve.
I’m blocking you now, so don’t reply. Nothing you write could ever fix this. For someone so valiant, you are such a coward. I thought we had everything. I can’t believe you did this to me.
C
