Page 130 of The Accidental Wife

Cole

“Tristan?”I blink and look at my father, who was watching me expectantly. “How do you like this one, son?” He asks, gesturing to his black tailored Armani suit.

“Looks good, Dad,” I tell him, staring at the mirror at my reflection as they tailor my suit for the wedding. I can’t believe I’m getting married in two days. The closer the date got, the tougher it got to breathe. Sophie has us running around doing all this wedding stuff, and I’m really trying to pay attention, but I’m struggling. I keep thinking about her. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. Ninety-nine percent of my day is spent thinking about her. I was hoping to see her when she returned the papers signing her rights to her design entirely over to Cult Designs. I was left disappointed when I saw Jo walk in and hand the documents to Jess to give to me.

“Jo?” I call out to her while she was waiting by the elevator.

“Hi, Cole.” She greets me with a small smile, her brown eyes looking me over, and she winces a little, but it disappears quickly.

“How is she?” I ask, dropping my gaze briefly. Jo sighs sadly and licks her lips tucking a strand of her mousy brown hair behind her ear.

“I’m not going to lie to you; she’s broken, Cole. More broken than I have ever seen anyone in my life, but she’s a fighter. She’ll get through it.” She tells me, and I close my eyes when I feel the pinch in my heart.

“She hasn’t left yet?” Jo woefully shakes her head.

“No, not yet. She leaves in two days.” She replies and sighs when the elevator arrives and the doors open. “Well, um, take care of yourself, Cole.” She adds with a little wave, and I nod.

“You too,” I reply and turn to walk back to my office.

“Hey, Cole?” Jo calls out to me, and I turn to look at her. “I’m terribly sorry for the way things ended for you and Shay. I was rooting for the two of you. Aimee and I both were.” She tells me, and I sigh deeply.

“Not as sorry as I am, believe me,” I reply, and she looks at me sorrowfully. “I’m glad she has you and Aimee to look out for her.”

“I just wish I could find a way to make her stay. That apartment, our lives, nothing is going to be the same without her.” She sighs sullenly, and I nod.

“No one understands that more than I do, trust me,” I assure her, and Jo nods and waves once more before the doors close. My life is never going to be the same without her.

“Mr Hoult, your fiancée wanted me to remind you of the doctor’s appointment you have in an hour.” Jess reminds me, and I nod, thanking her.

* * *

“Baby,how exciting is this? I can’t believe I’m starting to show.” Sophie chirps excitedly, taking my hand and placing it on her tiny bump while we wait at the doctor’s office. “Soon, you’ll be able to feel it moving around in there.” She sighs, elated, while I stare at the photo of a woman holding a new-born baby on the wall and blink a couple of times. She’s got a striking resemblance to Shayla, or was my mind imagining it again. “What do you think the sex is of the baby? Would you prefer a boy or a little girl?”

“A girl,” I whisper, staring at the photo of the woman.

“Mrs Hoult?” I look over at the midwife when she calls out my last name, and Sophie stands up and pulls me along with her. Is she seriously getting people to call her Mrs Hoult? We’re not even married yet, for fucksake. I remember how much Shayla hated being called that and the death glare she would give me whenever I teased her about it. We walk into a dark room with one of those ultrasound machines, and I sit on the chair while Sophie lays back on the bed. I should be excited, right? I should feel something about seeing my baby for the first time, but I feel nothing. I stare at the screen numbly, and even when I hear the baby’s heartbeat, I still feel nothing.

“Look, honey, that’s our baby.” Sophie coos holding her hand out to me. I stand up and take her hand and look at the screen. “Can you tell the sex of the baby yet?”

The sonographer smiles and looks at the screen. “Let’s see.” She says, moving the receiver over Sophie's stomach. “Oh, yes, it’s a little boy. He gave us a quick flash. Is that what you were hoping for?”

“My husband was hoping for a little girl, but I’m thrilled it a boy,” Sophie tells her, and I look at her blankly while she smiles lovingly at me. My stomach clenches when she calls me her husband. “My boy is going to be just as handsome as his father.” I drop her hand and rub the back of my neck.

“Uh, I just remembered I have to make a quick call for work. I’ll meet you outside, okay?” I tell her, and Sophie nods with a smile and looks at the screen again. I walk out of the room, loosen my tie as I lean against the door, and close my eyes. I genuinely feel like something is choking the life out of me.

After the doctor’s appointment, Sophie kept going on and on about names for the baby, and I just had this overwhelming feeling to scream at her to shut the fuck up. As she continues to talk, I squeeze the steering wheel so tight my knuckles go white. I clench and unclench my jaw so much it was aching. I force myself to zone out and just nod or utter an ‘mhm’ now and then, pretending like I’m listening to a word she’s saying. I wasn’t. I couldn’t.

I drop her off back at her apartment and make an excuse that I have things to do before the wedding and our honeymoon. I drive past Shayla’s place every day, sometimes twice a day, rerouting my drive to work or home in hopes I’ll see her outside or on her terrace, but I haven’t yet. Soon I won’t even be able to do that because she’s leaving the country, moving, to get away from me. I feel like a lost soul, just wandering around without a body or a home.

* * *

The next daywas the rehearsal dinner. Another day, I have to act like the happy groom, excited to marry the woman he supposedly loves. Thank God for scotch, I was currently on my fifth glass, and it was taking the edge off somewhat. I’ve been drinking a lot. Lately, it’s the only way I can sleep and ignore that big fat gaping hole inside of me. I can’t even look at myself. I can’t stand the sight of myself; it makes me sick to the stomach.

“Cole?” I lift my eyes and look at the therapist sitting opposite me. “Do you want to tell me why you’re here?”

“You look like her,” I tell her, and she frowns a little and licks her lips. She was a beautiful woman, with long dark hair, green eyes, but older. She bears a striking resemblance to Shayla, and I found comfort in that. Shayla was miles more beautiful, though, in every way.

“Cole, this is your third session, and we haven’t discussed the real reason why you’re here,” Annabelle tells me, and I shrug indifferently. “Tell me about these dark thoughts you mentioned in our last session.”

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