The Marriage Rival

The missing heartbeat.

The memory of sitting on the toilet as I began bleeding.

I wanted to scream, but I’m gagged and bound by the need to compose myself in front of everyone. I don’t want anyone thinking I am anything but fine. People respect me, and what happened is none of their business.

There’s a knock on my door. Taking several deep breaths, I open it with another forced smile to see Sandy on the other side. She glances at me, eyes tight and worried.

“Elvis, what’s wrong?” She quickly closes the door behind her.

My walls begin to break down as my eyes shift to the side becoming glazed with a layer of tears. As I blink, they drip from my eyelids, sliding down my cheeks. I wipe them in a rush, letting out a huff.

“You know what? Don’t answer, at least not here. Think you can escape family life for a few hours to grab a drink?”

I smile through my tears. Being around her is so easy.

Sandy Reid has become the breath of fresh air I need in my life.

And during a time when I can’t breathe, she has become the closest thing to an escape I can ask for.

Thirteen

Haden

I sit in bed, unable to sleep, staring at the blank wall as each minute drags on.

Beside me, my phone lays with unanswered texts and missed calls.

Where the hell is she?

She texted me hours ago, telling me that Cassandra was taking her out for a few drinks. That was at five. It’s now past one in the morning.

My resentment toward Cassandra grows deeper than I had ever anticipated. Professionally, she challenges every decision I make which becomes increasingly annoying. Decisions I make from a business perspective are always heavily thought out before anything becomes final. If, at any time, I am unsure, I have a highly-paid management team to guide me.

Yet, she undermines me every fucking time. In some ways, I push Presley to work with her because they have a past friendship, and she can act as the buffer.

I just didn’t expect that friendship to extend after hours when Presley should be home with me.

There?

??s a loud bang, followed by slamming of the front door. Thank fuck Masen isn’t home. The heavy footsteps click against the floorboards until our bedroom door swings wide open.

“You’re awake.” She rests her body against the door frame, unsteady as she fumbles in her purse. When she finds her phone, she attempts to unlock it, twice, before stumbling to the bed and sitting beside me. Unthinkingly, she falls back onto the pillow with an exhausted sigh.

“Oh look, you called me,” she slurs, the smell of alcohol lingering on her breath. “Ten times. Wow, that’s a lot of calls. What was the emergency?”

Clenching my jaw, I try to rein in my frustration knowing it will go unnoticed. “Presley, at least take off your jacket and shoes.”

Sitting beside her, I remove the white linen blazer she is wearing, then begin unbuckling the strap of her wedges, tossing them onto the floor.

“If you want to see me naked, all you have to do is ask.”

“Trust me, I don’t,” I half-lie.

There is fun-drunk Presley, and then there Presley of late. Presley who flinches every time I try to touch her. The same Presley who has distanced herself, much like I have, in an effort to deal with the unexpected loss.

Presley flashes a flirtatious smile and shifts closer to me. “You smell good.”

I’m trying not to get sidetracked at our close proximity, still angry about her disregard for my feelings, but I can’t help it. I miss her so much. Things between us are always so tense, we can never agree on anything, and all we seem to do is argue. Nothing I do for her is ever good enough.