“He’s despicable!” Nadia shouted, pulling me into a close embrace.
Emotion flooded through me, more like a monsoon this time, and I let out a sob so loud I was sure the entire church had heard it. I’d never felt pain and grief rip through me like that. How could he dump me at the altar? He couldn’t have told me this last night, before all the guests came, before I got all dressed up like some stupid fairytale princess in this ridiculous dress? Who needs all these beads and lace anyway?
I shouted. I cursed. I cried. He was everything I wanted and more, and now I’d never have him.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! Brides are supposed to run away, not grooms! Didn’t he ever see that Julia Roberts movie?
I couldn’t breathe.
I fell into a pit of despair as my world crashed down around me. I couldn’t help wondering what the heck had happened. We’d seen each other the night before, and everything had seemed fine, perfect as always. As usual, we couldn’t stop staring into each other’s eyes. When we talked about the wedding, he’d seemed more excited than me. As a matter of fact, it was all he talked about, and he said more than once that he couldn’t wait to see me in my wedding dress. I thought we shared such a deep connection, that we’d forever be madly in love. Why would he just throw it all away? For what? Why? And why won’t he even talk to me about it?
“Nadia,” I said, sniffling.
“Yeah? What is it, sweetie?”
“I’ve changed my mind. This is the absolute worst day of my life.”
* * *
Weeks passed, and I continued to mourn my loss of Jake. Every breath and movement took effort. Some days, the pain was so overwhelming that I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t function, and couldn’t control the tears. No one understood what I was going through, but everyone tried to be of some comfort on the rough days, and I appreciated that. On other days, I felt like I could manage. I hardly ate and woke up in cold sweats left over from my nightmares. I knew I’d never get over the loss of Jake dumping me, and I’d learned the hard lesson that in the blink of an eye, one’s whole world could take a swan dive; the elevator from heaven to hell was a fast-moving one. One minute, my life had been perfect. I’d been a princess with her Prince Charming. Then, in the next, I was a damsel in distress all over again. How will I ever move forward? I wondered. My heart was torn.
Sometimes the grief was so paralyzing that I had to remind myself to breathe. I knew there was no roadmap to get me through the throes of pain, but I hated that it hurt so damn much and for so damn long.
“I love you, Jake…and I miss you,” I whispered. “Not a minute goes by when I don’t think about you,” I muttered, recalling his beautiful face, those captivating features that I missed so much.
Everyone told me it would get easier in time, but it hadn’t—not after all those weeks. Knowing I’d never feel Jake’s touch, see his beaming smile, or hear his laugh again was almost unbearable. I missed the way he said my name, and it pained me that I wouldn’t feel his hand in mine. I’d never be able to look into his beautiful blue eyes again. There would be no more romantic dinners under the stars, no more slow dances, no more romantic birthday celebrations. All of that had been stolen away from me, leaving a giant, gaping hole in my heart.
I could still hear his voice in my head, could still feel his touch. It was something like that old country song I’d heard on the radio somewhere: I couldn’t stop loving him. I simply didn’t have the strength. As I went through his clothes, I could still smell him. All of my senses told me that he was right there in that room with me, that nothing had changed, but it had. It had all changed for the worst.
Chapter 2
Five years later…
I crossed my legs and glanced out the window, watching the sheets of rain pelt the glass and the ground and the trees. I’d buried my mother three months ago, and I’d finally summoned the courage to hear the reading of her will. Losing her to cancer was like having my heart ripped out. She’d always been such a strong, guiding, domineering force in my life. Sure, she always criticized my friends, choices, and lifestyle, and she totally controlled my dad. She always nagged me for everything she found inappropriate, which was everything from fast food to a minor curse word to a skirt above the knees. In fact, she found fault with me no matter what I did, but I didn’t care. She was my mother, a damn good one, and I loved her for it. Beneath that hard exterior of hers, I knew she always had my best interests in mind, and even during her hard-fought battle with that cruel disease, she’d tried to look out for me.
A tear slipped down my face, like the raindrops on the windowpane, as I met my lawyer’s gaze. “Can we please get started? Being here is just making all of this more painful.”
It was seven p.m., and I’d spent the better part of the day taking high-fashion photos of glamorous models in designer gowns. I still had to review the pictures and write up the article. As a fashion journalist and photographer, I always seemed to have to take work home with me. Honestly, after the day I’d had, I just wanted to take a hot shower and curl up with a good book and an even better glass of wine—anything to take my mind off the pain and loneliness of having yet another precious person ripped out of my life. After her death, I’d cried every night and even at work in the bathroom. In the midst of those emotional meltdowns, I felt the world crashing all around me.
My attorney looked down at his watch. “He’s late.”
“Who’s late?” I inquired.
“Your mother left very specific instructions, and we have to abide by them,” he said.
I hoped he’d give me a little clue about who our mystery date was going to be, but he remained secretive and mysterious. Mr. Shelby had been my mother’s lawyer for thirty years, and she’d trusted him completely. I knew there was more to the whole thing than he was telling me, and I could tell by his nervous twitch that he was up to no good.
“Please tell me what’s going on, Mr. Shelby,” I begged. “You know how much I hate surprises.”
Lifting a brow, he recited robotically, “I’m sorry, Miss Roberts, but according to the terms of the decedent’s Last Will and Testament, I am not permitted to mention his name.”
“But who else would she include? All of her closer friends and the rest of my relatives have already received whatever she bequeathed them. I thought I was the only one left.”
He picked up a file and smiled a grin that looked even faker than his toupee. “Please just be patient a while longer.”
My mind raced with questions. I was really the closest person to my mother. My father had died two years earlier from a heart attack, and I had
no siblings. My mother had been a lonely child, so I just didn’t get it. We were just a small, close-knit family, so it didn’t make sense that she’d brought in an outsider.