sofia
I look down at the paper in front of me, not sure I can mask the fact that I’m going to help this woman pick out her wedding dress. I look at the paper with the rest of the questions empty, but I think I’ve done my part for the day. The rest of the questions aren’t that important, and I can always reach out to her. “I think I have everything I need.” I avoid looking back up, but I can’t just look down at my papers until they walk out.
“What is the next step?” Helena asks excitedly, clapping her hands. If this were any other couple, I would probably be clapping my hands as well. This wedding is really going to be the wedding of the year and the commission will be amazing. Not only that but having this on my portfolio will be even more amazing.
“The next step is I take everything you told me and make a wedding plan,” I tell her. “You can go over it and see if there is anything you think we should change or maybe there are things you see out there that you want to change things to.” I go over the script I say all the time, ignoring the burning in the pit of my stomach. “After everything is said and done, we will have different days where we do different things.”
“What does that mean?” Matthew asks.
“Well.” I look over at him and fold my hands into each other and lean forward just a touch, knowing my tits will be pushed up. “One day, we will look at flower arrangements. Then the service setting, of course. We make a mock-up of everything that you chose so you can see exactly what it will look like on the day of your wedding.”
“I love that,” Helena says, her eyes have been lit up this whole time. She was the one doing all the talking all the time. The only time Matthew spoke up was about the makeup. This whole wedding is nothing like I thought his day would be. It’s nothing like he said his day would be. When we were together, we would always talk about when we got married, but we were always on the same page. The only thing we wanted was our family and closest friends. Definitely not five hundred people.
“Wait until it’s time to test the food.” I smile at them both, this whole time avoiding looking at him.
“I’ll work on this tomorrow,” I state, instead of saying tonight, because how would that look, that I’m home alone at night? It screams I’m single. “Then send it over to you. If you have any questions, you can call me at any time. If you get home and discuss some of the answers you gave and would like to change something, it’s not too late to change anything.”
“This is going to be amazing,” Helena says, looking at Matthew, who nods at her. The smile he gives her is as fake as fake can be. I can see the tightness in his shoulders. “It’s going to be the best day of our lives.”
I’m waiting for Matthew to say something, but he doesn’t say anything, instead he gets up out of his seat. Helena follows him as she gets up, the smile never leaving her face. She holds out her hand for Matthew and he obliges when he slides his hand in hers, and a lump forms in my throat. I know what it feels like to be held by those hands, something I wish I didn’t remember.
I follow them out, my eyes going straight to Matthew’s ass. I shake my head and look down before Helena sees me checking out her fiancé. Once we go around the corner and into the waiting area, Helena stops and looks over at me. “Thank you so much, Sofia,” she says, holding out her hand to me. She holds my hand in both of hers. “I’m so happy we decided to go with you.” I make the mistake of looking over to Matthew to see what his face says to this statement, but he avoids looking at me.
“Thank you for putting your trust in me,” I tell her and then look over at Matthew. “I promise to make your wedding amazing,” I assure him, looking into his eyes as I stick out my hand, secretly calling him an asshole and a dickhead. He squeezes my hand a little bit more than he did before. I do the same thing, and when he drops my hand, I can still feel the heat from his.
He turns to look at Helena and puts his hand on her lower back to usher her out of the room. When the door closes behind them, I do what any average, sane person planning the wedding of their first love does. I walk back to my office and open the closet door, grabbing the half-empty bottle of sweet tea.
Kicking off my shoes as I walk over to my desk, I hear footsteps coming closer to my office. I look over to see the three of them walk in, just looking at me. Only after I sit down and take a shot of the sweet tea does Shelby start, “How are you feeling?”
I wait for the burning to subside from the sweet tea, as it burns all the way down to my stomach, and I have to wonder if it’s the tea or the nerves at this point. I exhale a deep breath. “Like a concrete truck just ran me over.” It’s the most accurate description of how I was feeling during the whole meeting. I avoided looking at him and my stubbornness just told me that it’s just another client.
“But was the concrete truck full?” Clarabella asks, and Presley just shakes her head.
“What difference does that make?” Presley asks, trying not to laugh.
“It makes all the difference in the world. With the concrete it would be fifty times heavier, if not more,” Clarabella explains, and I just laugh.
“I think she’s in shock,” Presley suggests, and I just shake my head.
“I don’t know if I’m in shock per se,” I admit to them, putting the cap back on the sweet tea. “But I do know that this might have been one of the hardest days I’ve had in my life.”
“It’s only going to get worse,” Clarabella advises.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Shelby screeches, throwing her hands up in the air.
“I’m not going to lie to her,” she says, rolling her eyes. “What good would that do?”
“I don’t know about you,” I say, getting up and walking back over to put the sweet tea back where I took it from, “but I’m going home for the day.” I slip my shoes back on.
“You should go home and get drunk,” Clarabella urges and both Presley and Shelby hit her arm. “What? It’s what I would do.”
“This from the woman who slept with not her husband on her wedding night,” Shelby says, laughing.
“I wasn’t the only one.” She points at her and Shelby gasps.
“I slept with Ace two days later,” she defends herself, “two days is huge.”
“If you say so,” Clarabella says as they turn to walk out of the room. “Let me know if you need me.”
“I will,” I assure her, as I pack up the file and my laptop before I walk out of my office. I’m in a daze as I make my way home. My head keeps spinning around and around as I shut the car door with my hip before walking up the stairs to the front door, opening it by pressing in the code. I kick off my shoes as soon as I step in, walking to the kitchen and putting down my bags on the island.
My whole body aches, and I have to wonder if maybe I’m coming down with something. Walking over to the freezer, I take out one of my great-grandmother’s chicken potpies she made me the last time I was with her. I put it on a baking pan before turning on the oven and placing it inside. I set the timer for forty-five minutes before I make my way upstairs to my bedroom. The bed is made since the cleaning lady was here today. I don’t stop until I’m standing in front of my shower, opening the glass door, and turning on the hot water.
Once I’m undressed and tie my hair on top of my head, I step into the hot water. My head is still going around and around as I see his face. Always his fucking beautiful face. “This would be a lot easier if there was closure when we broke up,” I tell myself as I turn off the water and step out, grabbing the plush white towel, wrapping it around myself. “No, it wouldn’t,” I answer myself as I put on a pair of cream, cashmere loose pants with a matching oversized, long-sleeved, V-neck sweater before making my way back downstairs. The smell of the potpie is filling the house. I walk over and grab the bottle of white wine from the fridge before opening the cupboard and taking down a crystal wineglass. Pouring wine to fill the glass halfway, I take a sip as I walk over to my bag, grabbing my laptop and notes from today.
Sitting on the stool, I open the folder and look down, seeing his name and then Helena’s. I never thought this would be my reality. I mean, after we broke up, I had no idea what he was up to. He literally vanished from my life after a fight. My head wanders back to that fateful night.
The phone rang and I knew he just got off the ice. They were at an away game. “Hello,” I answered him.
“Hey, baby,” he said softly, and I couldn’t help but smile when his voice would go soft like that. “Whatcha doing?”
“I was waiting for you to call,” I told him. “That was a good win.”
“It was the last minute of the game,” he said, and I could have seen the smirk on his face.
“Are you still okay to go out?” I asked him of the plans we made when I got a call from the top event agency in Chicago, asking me to come in and meet them.
“You bet your ass,” he said, and I got up. “Meet me at my place in about two hours. Gotta go, love you, baby.”
“Love you, too,” I said and hung up the phone. I spent an hour getting ready and headed over to his place. I sat on his stoop and waited for him. When he was ten minutes late, I texted him to see if he was okay, but got nothing. All it said was delivered. An hour later, I started to panic and called him, only for it to go straight to voice mail. I was pacing his porch back and forth, my phone in my hand as I watched the minutes tick by. I waited to see if the gray bubble would pop up, but nothing. I feared the worst when headlights pulled into his driveway. Not his truck but his friend Jake’s. I walked down the steps, my heart beating in my chest, the fear had taken over my body. The car door opened, and he took one step out and then fell. I rushed to him but stopped when I heard him laughing. Jake rushed around the truck to pick him up. “Is he?”
The fear left my body now that I knew he was okay and in its place was anger. “Wow.”
“Hey there, baby,” he slurred his words, and I just shook my head. “What is your problem?” He put his hands on his hips and, at that moment, it was the wrong thing to say.
“What’s my problem?” I hissed out. “I just spent the last two hours wondering if you were hurt. I called you.”
“Phone died,” Jake said, but I took one look at him, and he shut up.
“It’s not a big deal,” Matthew huffed.
“I’m leaving,” I said, and I walked past him, but he followed me.
“You’re such a buzzkill,” he said. His words hit me right in the heart. “I had a couple of drinks with the boys.” He stopped when I turned around. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“We had plans, Matthew,” I reminded him, trying to get him to see my side.
“Plans change.” He threw his hands up. “Whatever.”
“Call me tomorrow,” I said to him.
“Or how about I don’t?” he said, and I turned around so slowly it was as if it was in slow motion. “If you leave, it’s over.” He’s drunk my head screamed at me. It was no use talking to him, so instead I just shook my head and walked to my car, leaving.
I expected him to call me the next day, but instead I opened my door and there were my things in a box on my doorstep. That was the last time I spoke to Matthew.
The buzz for the oven makes me snap out of it. The feelings just as if it was back then, like a fresh wound being cut open again. I shake my head. “Fuck you, Matthew, and good riddance.”