Naked Love(84)

Sydney slides the key back to me. “Who cares? We’ll get that storage unit emptied tomorrow. You need to take that grand and open an account at a different bank and make sure the phone is brand-new and with a different provider. You need to completely cut him out of your life.”

“Amen.” Deedy holds up her mug of coffee like a toast.

Me? I read the letter a third time. It makes no sense. Anthony thrives on winning. This isn’t him winning. It’s him surrendering.

“Deedy, I’ll get Ocean up and have Dad watch Asher. We are going to get our hair done because it’s your wedding day!” Sydney’s so much better at Team Deedy than I am, but I’ll get there.

I stare at my fingernails. They are neat and trimmed, but I should’ve gotten them painted. Men are done ruling my life, toying with my emotions, and trampling my self-esteem. “Do we have time to stop someplace so I can get a couple coats of polish on my nails?”

Sydney grins. “Absolutely.”

*

“Fuck me …” I whisper.

“Shh!” Sydney nudges my elbow. “We’re in church,” she grits through her fake smile as Jake walks Deedy down the aisle.

Jake Matthews in a suit. My ovaries just exploded, sending a volcano of heat down to disintegrate my panties. I didn’t think I could possibly hate him more, but I do. He gets an extra dose of hate from me today because of how fuckable he looks in that black suit and mustard and white tie that matches the color of our strapless Dress Barn dresses.

I think it’s that Jake looks completely out of place in a suit, which makes him look vulnerable despite everything else about him that screams confidence.

Peeling my gaze off Jake, I watch my dad. He often looked at my mom that way. I don’t remember all the looks he gave her, I was young, but I remember this one. It’s bittersweet because I’m happy for him, but I miss my mom. It’s bittersweet because I caught a few glimpses of Jake looking at me like that on our trip. But that’s all they were—glimpses.

I deserve a man who looks at me like that, even on my worst day. And the most bittersweet reality of all is that I might not have ever realized my true self-worth had I not met Jake Matthews.

A tear releases from one eye. I quickly wipe it off my cheek.

The minister starts to speak of second-chance love.

Another unavoidable tear.

My dad mouths “I love you” to Deedy, and ten more tears insist on breaking free.

Lautner winks at Sydney.

More stupid tears.

Jake, from the front pew next to Asher, hands Ocean a handkerchief to give me, and … I die.

“Pull it together,” Sydney whispers.

I blow out a slow, shaky breath and think of something … anything to dam the emotions. Focusing on Deedy and my father, I think about tonight—their wedding night—and how she’s going to ask him to go there. And then I imagine where there might be and what he might do to her when he gets there.

Yep, that dries up all the tears. Now, I need to deal with the bile crawling up my throat.

“I pronounce you husband and wife.”

Our tiny gathering cheers as my dad kisses Deedy. It’s soft and fairly quick. PG for the grandkids. He takes her hand and leads her out of the sanctuary. Lautner follows them with his wife and two beautiful children.

The minister waits, but after a few moments of me staying rooted to the same spot and Jake unmoving from his seat on the pew, he exits the sanctuary as well.

And then there were two …

I can’t not look at him. Just his presence manages to demand my attention.

“I know what you want.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

I tighten my grip on my small bouquet, tighten my jaw, tighten the chains around my heart.

“Acceptance. You want me to accept you for who you are. The good, the bad, and everything in between.”

Acceptance.

I play with that word in my mind, applying it to the things that I’ve done, the person I am, the dreams I have, and the fears that haunt me.

“No.” I take three steps to walk toward the back of the sanctuary.

Jake grabs my wrist. “Ave …” Like his grip on me, his voice leaks desperation.

I jerk my arm from his grasp. “I don’t want you to accept me. I don’t accept how you’ve treated me. I don’t accept Anthony cheating on me. But here’s the thing with acceptance … it’s not really a choice. Not accepting something doesn’t change the fact that it happened or that something just is. Acceptance is this illusion that we’re in control. I unknowingly had a relationship with a married man. It. Happened. You choosing to accept it doesn’t change a single thing. So if your acceptance is simply your brain finally wrapping itself around reality, then yay for you. Good job, Jake. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” My feet move on their own, spurred by the self-preservation signal from my brain.

Just as I reach the back doors to the sanctuary, Jake’s defeated voice stops me. “So, that’s it? We’re over? There’s nothing I can say to make things right between us? Not a million sorry’s for what I said to you? Not begging you to forgive me for letting my past and all my resentment toward my past tear us apart? Nothing?”

I chuckle, but it’s the kind that hurts, the kind that steps up to take the pain when you’re just too cried out. “The English language has hundreds of thousands of words. There’s always … something to say.”