Chapter 12
Clarabella
The photos fall from my hand, and my knees finally give out. I'm about to hit the floor when Presley wraps her arm around my waist and tries to hold me up. Shelby grabs the other side, and the two of them help carry me to a chair. I sit in the chair and don't even notice that tears are running down my face. Were they there the whole time? Did she see me cry? "This isn't happening?" I say, wiping away the tears from my cheeks angrily. "Like, this is a dream." I look at Shelby and then at Presley. "I mean, it's more like it's a nightmare." I nod at them. "It's a nightmare, and any minute I'm going to wake up, and we are all going to laugh about it." I laugh nervously when Shelby gets up from beside me and walks over to the bar area that she set up.
"I didn't think we would need this." She squats down and moves bottles aside as she pulls out a bottle of scotch. "I only had it here in case you got jittery and nervous." She opens the bottle and pours three shots and then comes over.
"I don't know about you,” Presley says. "But this was the best idea you've had in a while." She hands us each a shot. The minute my hand grips the glass, I just swallow the shot without waiting. I then look over at Presley, giving her my empty glass while I take hers. "Well then," she notes, looking down at the empty glass in her hand. "I guess you need it more than I do." I don't say anything as I breathe through the burning that is now spreading from the top of my throat to the bottom of my stomach. Shelby doesn't even try to take her shot; instead, she just holds it up for me. Grabbing the empty one from my hand, she transfers me the full one. Only when I swallow the third shot do I say something.
"Did that just happen?" I ask, then my eyes focus on one of the pictures that is lying on the floor, the one of him with Edward on his chest.
"It happened,” Presley confirms, getting up and walking over to the bottle of scotch that Shelby left at the bar. "I'm not even going to lie about it." She walks back to the couch, pouring another shot in my empty glass. "I would have bet my life that this wedding was going to be perfect."
"Oh my God.” Shelby gasps. "It can still happen." I turn my head and my eyebrows pinch together. "What?" she shrieks out. "I don't know what you're thinking."
"What she's thinking is that motherfucker,” Presley says, drinking a shot from the bottle. "That is what she is thinking."
"Okay, can we all take a minute,” Shelby suggests, getting up now and looking at us. "What are you thinking?" she asks me.
"I'm numb," I admit honestly. "Totally and completely numb."
"That's a start,” Shelby says. "But what else?"
"I need to talk to him." I swallow now and turn to look at Presley. "Someone needs to go get him."
"Um…" Presley gets up. "What are we going to say?"
"I don't care what you say." I get up now, and my knees give out again, and I sit back down. "I don't give a shit if you have to drag him here." My legs start to shake nervously.
"I'm going to distract Mom,” Shelby states. "You"—she points at Presley—"you go get him."
Presley doesn't say anything; instead, she just nods her head. "And you…" She points at me. "You just…" She shakes her finger at Presley to see if she is going to give her some sort of encouragement, but all Presley does is shake her head. "You sit there and try to calm down."
"Oh, surprising." I look at both of them. "I'm fucking calm. Calm as a fucking cucumber."
"This is going to be very, very bad,” Presley says, walking toward the door. "I'd prefer it if you were trashing the place and throwing things around." She opens the door. "This is almost like premeditated murder status."
"Can you not,” Shelby grits with clenched teeth, "give her ideas." She huffs and walks over to the door, pushing Presley out. The sound of them bickering as they walk away from the room. I get up slowly, walking over to the pictures in the middle of the room. I pick them up and then walk back to the couch, sitting down to wait for him. I go through the pictures again, once, twice, three times. Each and every single time, the pain in my chest dulls as the anger starts to set in.
There is a soft knock on the door, and I take a deep breath as the door opens, and Edward sticks his head in. "Oh my God, Clarabella," he says, walking inside of the room. He's wearing his black tux, and his hair is perfectly styled. "Presley said you were hurt." I hold up my hand to stop him from taking another step toward me. He stops in his tracks as a look of worry and confusion fills his face. "Are you okay?"
My eyes look straight into his as I say the words. "I know about Louise,” I declare, and the color drains from his face. "And about Edward."
He opens his mouth and whispers, "I can explain."
"This I would love to hear," I say, my heart beating fast in my chest, and I hold the pictures in my hands. "Please explain to me how you had a child with a woman while engaged to me?"
"It's not what it seems," he starts to say, and if this wasn't happening to me, I would laugh out loud and scream bullshit.
"It never is what it seems," I reply, my voice a lot calmer than I thought it would be. "Please enlighten me."
"Louise and I," he starts to say, and as I look at him, everything in me wants to just walk out of this room and not give him the time of day, but when I do walk out of this room, it's going to be with everything on the table. "I dated her a while ago."
"So you weren't at her house last week?" I ask, and he just stares at me. "Okay, well, since you aren't going to tell me the truth…" The anger starts to seep out of me now, the hurt being pushed down. "Because well, you probably don't know how. I'm just going to lay out the facts that I know,” I state. He puts one hand in his pocket, and the other holds the back of his neck.
"Clarabella," he pleads.
"Did you or did you not have a baby one month ago?" I hold up the picture of him and Louise in the hospital. He doesn't say anything, and I almost laugh, but instead, I just continue. “Did you or did you not lie to me about going away on a business trip, but instead, you were helping care for your son?" I hold up the second picture. "I mean, I don't even know how you can even spin this." I shake my head.
"Louise and I go way back," he starts again. "And yes, at one point, we were a couple."
"At which point exactly were you two not a couple?" I ask. "Because if you are going to stand there in front of me and tell me you didn't sleep with her in the last six months." I glare at him. "You're a bigger liar than I think you are."
"It's over,” he says, and now I can't help the laughter that escapes me.
"Let me guess. After today, you were never going to see her again?" I fold my arms over my chest. "What about your child?" I stare at him as I see him trying to find the words. "You lied to me about having a child. A child. A son." My voice goes higher and higher.
"I was going to tell you," he defends and takes a step toward me but then stops when I take a step back.
"When were you going to tell me?" I ask.
"I'm not even sure he's mine," he says, and whatever I felt for him before is gone. "I was going to wait for the DNA testing before I said anything."
"You are actually going to throw your son under a bus to save yourself?" I ask, shocked. "Even after everything, I expected you to be a stand-up guy and take responsibility."
"When I met you, everything changed," he says, and I throw my head back and laugh. "I know it's cliché." He holds up his hands. "But it's just I knew you were the one."
"Really?" I ask, and his head tilts to the side. "When did you know I was the one?" I look at him, and all he does is look back at me. "Now this is the million-dollar question, isn't it?"
"The first night I met you, I knew," he declares, and I glare at him.
"When did you pick out my ring?" I ask, and there is a reason for this. It's what I call my ace in the hole. "I'm waiting."
"The day before I proposed to you," he says, and now I take a step forward.
"So, the day before you proposed to me, you went out and bought this ring?" I hold up my hand. "The day after you had a gender reveal party and celebrated that you decided I'm going to ask Clarabella, who isn't the mother of my child, to marry me." He looks at me, shocked that I know this. "This picture speaks for itself." I hold up the last one. "I'm just." I shrug. "You are a liar!" I shout at the top of my lungs. "A fucking coward." I shake my head. "Now the question is why. Why did you do it?" I ask, and then it hits me, and I take a step back. "Was it because you loved me, or was it because I had a better social status?" He just swallows. "Oh my God." I clap my hands together. "Wow, was I an idiot."
"It's not that," he says, trying to cover it up. "It's you and me; we just fit."
"We fit?" I scoff, disgusted. "We"—I point at him and then to me—"fit?" I shake my head, smiling. "We don't fit because I hate cowards." I point at him. "And liars." I point again. "And weasels." I point at him again. "Which you are all of the above. You have a child, who has your blood, with someone else and you…" I close my eyes. "Pathetic." I take one more look at him and then start to walk out of the room.
I walk past him, and his hand grabs my arm, stopping me from walking out. "Please, Clarabella, I was going to tell you. I was just waiting for the right time."
I yank my arm out of his touch, and his hand falls to the side. "The right time would have been the first night you took me out." I put my shoulders back. "Like this is the perfect time to tell you one, go fuck yourself, and two, the wedding is off."