A Life More Complete(61)
“Tyler, if you’re going to become all indignant every time I mention something that occurred in my life while you were off living yours, we will be done. I’m not going to hide the fact that I fell in love with someone else. It is what it is. Get over it.” I huff and turn to look out the window. “Also, it’s completely preposterous for you to assume that I went on living my life waiting for you. It is ridiculous,” I mumble under my breath.
Tyler doesn’t respond, his eyes trained on the road ahead. I refuse to give into his childish behavior and acknowledge him. We drive for a few more hours in complete and utter silence. I guess he forgot how stubborn I could really be, especially when the argument at hand is unreasonable.
I remain silent as we pull into the parking lot of Carmel Lodge. I climb out of the car leaving Tyler standing there dumbfounded. At least the working part of his brain tells him to grab the bags and follow me inside. I check in and stalk off to the room with Tyler following a perfectly safe distance behind. We are both adults and I know I should probably know better than to hold a grudge about something so trivial, but I don’t care. He should know better than to have unrealistic expectations about my past life. Before I would have caved, apologized just to keep the peace. But I’m not the same person I was back then and I won’t be forced to be someone I’m not.
I strip my clothes and climb into the shower. Rachel booked us a beautiful cottage overlooking the ocean and even though she agreed to pay for it, I won’t allow it. The wedding is set to take place at dusk and the reception to follow, so I have plenty of time to get ready. I stay longer in the shower than necessary trying to come up with a solution to the standoff, when I realize my body is the one thing that Tyler can’t resist. Putting an end to this suddenly became as simple as a bra and underwear.
I quickly grab a black sheer lace demi bra and very tiny matching low-rise underwear from my suitcase. I slip into them and saunter my way out into the living room where I find Tyler sitting on the couch, his eyes focused on the television. I stop directly in front of him with a smirk on my face, yet somehow he remains completely steadfast. I lick my lips slowly and wait. He closes his eyes deliberately and stands. I know I have him as he walks over to me and circles me in his arms.
“I win,” I whisper in his ear. His hands cup my behind and he lifts me up. My legs wrap around his waist as he carries me into the bedroom. The smile on my face is huge.
“No,” he says as he sets me on the bed. “I win. I have you.”
“You’ve always had me. No one will ever beat you, so it doesn’t matter who came before or who came after. I love you.” He leans in and kisses me so passionately it takes my breath away. His need and urgency increase and I know he is seeking the one thing that will calm and sooth him—me.
I shower for a second time, this time with Tyler. He climbs out before I’m done and is dressed before I can even wrap a towel around myself. I’ve never seen him look so stunning as he does right now. He’s wearing a pale gray cotton suit jacket and matching slim fit pants. The suit fits like a glove, it shows off the muscles in his arms and his flat stomach with one button left undone. His shirt is pale blue and fitted. The color a near match to his eyes. I always thought the idea of wearing a suit without a tie was entirely pointless, but Tyler makes it look like an art form. The top button of his shirt is loose making me want to trail kisses from its starting point to the point where his pants hang low on his hips.
He makes me self-conscious as I slip into a black cotton dress. Tying the satin sash around my waist as I examine myself in the mirror. Not terrible, but definitely not up to the impeccably high standard of the GQ model in the other room. I press my feet into the t-strap Mary Janes that I borrowed from Melinda. I thank God that Tyler is tall because the heels put me near five foot ten. I head into the living area in search of Tyler’s opinion when he stops and looks at me briefly.
He narrows his eyes and says, “Are we going to a funeral? I’m sure you’re pissed that your sister is getting married before you, but seriously, all black? Did you bring anything else?” I’m sure the look on my face is strikingly reminiscent to the one I gave him when he so eloquently called me “a hooker”.
“Do you have any filter at all?” I ask, nonplussed. I can feel my fingers begin to tap and I walk back toward the bathroom trying to avoid the scrutiny that will come from presenting my OCD so openly. I untie the sash and pull the dress up over my head and toss it onto the bathroom floor. I can feel the tears fill my eyes and the lump form in my throat. Will I ever be good enough? Will he always find fault in everything I do? Normally I wouldn’t care nor would I allow anyone but Tyler to talk to me the way he does. I’m unexpectedly disgusted with myself. Breathing deeply I control my urge to scream at Tyler and pitch the ring at his head, all the while keeping my tears at bay. I change into something I find repulsively non-wedding appropriate, a pink tiered sundress and pair of flip flops.