Page 4 of One Touch
There he was. My fiancé. Fucking a woman who was bent over a beer keg on all fours. He was behind her, his tuxedo rumpled and dirty. For some reason, the most surprising thing about the whole scene, at that moment, was that the woman was wearing a white dress.
I clapped a hand over my mouth, stifling the sob that threatened to tear from my throat. How could he? On our wedding day?
“Lily,” said Vlad. “Shit. You weren’t meant to see this. But it doesn’t mean I love you any less.” For some reason, he wasn’t taking his penis out of the woman’s vagina.
I stood there, rooted to the spot, as a tidal wave of emotions crashed over me—shock, betrayal, fury, and oddly, a perverse sense of relief. In that moment, something inside me hardened. I wouldn’t let him see me shatter.
Suddenly, I thought back to what Ethan McCoy had said about Vlad. That he was a clown. He was so right.
I spun on my heel, and as I walked away, I heard Vlad call, “It’s just sex, Lily! You're the one I love!”
I stumbled back toward the dressing room, my mind reeling. How could I have been so blind? The late nights, the ‘groupies,’ the constant talk of being more ‘open’—it all made sickening sense now. But worse than the betrayal was the realization that I, Bluehaven Beach’s self-proclaimed love expert, had fallen for such an obvious fraud.
I took a deep breath and went back in to see my friends.
Mary-Beth’s brow furrowed with concern. “Are you okay, Lily?”
“Yep. Just fine.” I kept my voice steady, my smile fixed.
Elara’s eyes narrowed. “Do you still wan—”
I cut her off. “Trust me. It’s fine.”
Vlad wanted a unique wedding? A wedding people would never stop talking about? Well, he was about to get one.
“Now,” I breathed to the makeup artist, “make me look fabulous.”
***
What is a fairy tale wedding?
Does it need to take place in a castle? Does the bride wear a puffy, white dress? Does the “Wedding March” play as she walks down the aisle? Do the bridesmaids catch the bouquet in a playful scramble? Does the rest of the world slow down as the happy couple share their first dance under twinkling lights?
Is there always a happily ever after?
As I waited outside the stage room of The Gold Mine, my head swirled. Elara and Mary-Beth stood beside me in their gray dresses, and I had a feeling they were as nervous as I was. I gave both of their hands a squeeze.
Elara nodded at me. It was time.
They pushed the doors open and I tried not to get teary as I surveyed the rows of faces in the crowd. All my friends from town, people I’d grown up with, had gathered here today to wish me well.
There was Cole, Elara’s fiancé, and his two daughters, Rhea and Lexi. There was Vlad’s family, who were a little eccentric, but not entirely awful. Customers from my bookstore. Connie from the local hardware store and her son, Scout. The list went on and on. I was about to make a fool of myself in front of them all.
The only people missing were my folks. I hadn’t seen my dad for years. After he abandoned us, probably fathering a bunch ofother kids goodness-knows-where, Mom had a breakdown and moved to the Bahamas. She hadn’t managed to get flights to the wedding at short notice, so I decided that Elara would give me away.
Of course, that wasn’t going to happen now.
Vlad stood on stage, waiting for the music to start so that he could begin his performance. He had straightened up his tux and managed to make himself look like a man who hadn’t just boned another woman. His electric blue Stratocaster was slung across his chest and he had this irritating, pleading look in his eyes.
Ugh. I had really thought he’d cared about me. He’d written a song about me, for heaven’s sake. It included the line “You’re the one” twenty-six times.
He’d talked about us being more “open” lately, but had he really meant he wanted to sleep with other people? I thought he was just suggesting we communicate better.
Whichever way I looked at it, I couldn’t believe that Vlad truly loved me. And if I wasn’t even enough for someone as bad as Vlad, how would I ever be enough for someone good?
I clenched my jaw. I had to do this. So what if I never found another man? Better to never marry than to marry someone like him.
As I started to walk down the makeshift aisle—my shoes catching on the sticky, beer-stained floor—Vlad nodded to Renfield, another member of the band, who stood by the controls to the music. He clicked play.
