Marx Girl
I casually look over at Ben and he’s glaring at me, not even pretending to play nice. I narrow my eyes back.
What an asshole. He turns up here unannounced and expects me to be on my back with my legs open, waiting for him.
Oh joy, the king has returned.
All hail King Ben.
Well, I’ve got fucking news for him.
Eric starts to trace circles on my bare shoulder with his fingertips as he stares into space, and I can literally feel the beads of perspiration running down my back.
Holy hell, I need a strong drink.
“Bridget,” the voice snaps. I look up to see Ben towering over me. “Can I have a word, please?”
I look up at him in horror as the blood drains from my face. “Now?” I frown.
“Now.”
Eric frowns, but I fake a smile. “Back in a minute, baby.” I kiss him on the cheek as I stand.
Mum and Tash watch as I get up and leave the church, with Ben hot on my heels.
We burst out the front door to see the bride and bridesmaids all getting their photos taken as they sit in the cars. Ben pulls me around the side of the church.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I whisper angrily as I tear my arm from his grip.
“If he fucking touches you again, I’m knocking him out,” Ben growls.
“What?” I whisper. “He is my boyfriend. He can touch me when he wants to.”
“No, he can’t.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “We’re at a wedding. You have been out of my life for five years. You don’t have the right to come back here, acting like a caveman.”
He points to me. “I’m warning you. You let him touch you and he’s going down.”
“What?” I scream before remembering where I am. I look around guiltily.
He lifts his chin defiantly and it pushes my rage over the edge.
“Oh, he’ll be going down, Ben, but he’ll be going down on me.” I fake a smile and tap my chin to add to the effect. “Or, maybe I’ll go down on him.”
“That’s it,” he snaps, and grabs my arm. “Get in the car.”
“What? Have you gone fucking mad?” I whisper.
“We’re leaving.”
“Fuck’s sake, Ben. I’m at a family wedding. Go home!”
The priest comes around the corner. “We are going in.” He smiles calmly.
I fake a smile in return. “Thank you.”
Rage is burning on Ben’s face. I’ve never seen him so mad. “I’m warning you, Bridget. If you don’t want a scene, make sure he keeps his fucking hands off you.”
“How dare you?”
“Don’t push me. That is your first and last warning,” he growls.
I force a smile through my tears. I can’t believe this. “Thank you, Ben. Thanks a lot.”
“For what?” He frowns.
“For ruining every beautiful memory I had of you.”
His face falls.
“Get the fuck out of my life.” I storm inside with my heart hammering hard in my chest, and I take my seat between my boyfriend and my sister.
* * *
BEN
I sit at the table with Joshua and Brock, two of my closest friends.
They get it. They think like me.
We all call Joshua Stan, Joshua seems so formal.
My eyes are following Bridget around the reception like I’m a lovesick puppy. I’ve thought about her constantly over the last five years, but being in the same room as her and seeing her not even noticing me is a whole new level of torture.
It’s like I don’t exist to her anymore.
Maybe I don’t.
I’ve behaved like she asked and kept my distance all night. I’m still smarting from her last comment. Thank you for ruining every beautiful memory I had of you.
Have I done more damage than good by coming back?
That thought is weighing heavily on my mind.
She’s dancing with Adrian and Natasha. She’s constantly laughing and she’s sexy as hell. No matter how hard I try, I can’t take my eyes off her.
She’s more beautiful than ever.
It kills me that she’s here with someone else—someone like him.
In the real world, Eric is the kind of guy I would be friends with. Brock told me to get my ass back here because she had met someone she could actually fall for.
Someone like us.
Am I too late?
I sip my scotch as I try to block my emotions. I’ve been numbing my feelings for her for five years, and now that I’m back I just can’t get a hold on them.
I’m about to lose my living shit.
Like a bubbling pot of fury, my blood is boiling.
Have I only pushed her closer to him?
“Just call her tomorrow, man.” Brock tries to calm me.
I sit back in my chair and exhale deeply as I watch the three of them dance.
I swallow the lump in my throat.
“I told you years ago, mate, you should have told her then.” Stan sighs.
I scratch my head in frustration. “You know I couldn’t.”