21
ASHER
Of all theways I thought I would feel on my wedding day, confused, agitated, and heartbroken were not on the list. I went to bed last night hoping that I would miraculously wake up today knowing what I was supposed to do. Needless to say, I was disappointed that my mind did not feel any clearer.
I felt more confused than ever.
Not wanting to try to force sleep any longer, I pulled off my comforter and got out of bed. I made my way into the bathroom, where I turned on the shower and let steam fill the room. Once the water was ready, I stripped out of my pajama bottoms and stepped inside.
I let the hot water pelt my body until my skin was bright pink and numb. I guess I’d hoped that it would make me feel better. But as I stepped out of the shower and onto Coralie’s rough, flat bath mat I realized that hope had been foolish. I didn’t feel better. If anything, I felt worse.
Worse because the towels that Coralie had picked out felt like the kind of towels you get from a hotel pool. Worse because my feet didn’t sink into the bathmat like they did with the one that Ella had picked out. Worse because I knew I was marrying the wrong woman.
Ella was the one for me. That kiss last night solidified it.
I knew it was Ella’s hands on my face the moment she touched my cheeks. I knew it was Ella who brushed her lips shyly against mine. I knew it was Ella’s body that my fingertips pressed into when I reached out and pulled her to me.
But when I raced after her in the rain, she looked at me like it didn’t matter that I had been the one kissing her back. And I realized we were never going to happen. I was always going to be the one who loved her more than she was capable of loving me.
“It was a kiss. That’s all.”
Her words repeated in my head like a sadistic echo. I’d found a way to move on after she rejected me outside her apartment. Now, I could only focus on one truth. I would never move on from that kiss. It burned me so bad that my heart was permanently scarred.
I dried my hair and then my body. I wrapped the towel around my waist and pulled open the bathroom door, reveling in the cool air of my room. I walked over to my nightstand and grabbed my phone, praying that there were messages with more mind-numbing wedding plans so I could focus on something other than Ella.
Coralie had texted me that she was with her parents and to expect them around 10. I sent her a heart hands emoji as I reminded myself that this was the woman I was going to marry. This was the woman who actually loved me.
She responded with a kissing emoji, and I forced myself to smile at that.
All my thoughts of Ella needed to stop. Coralie was the one who was going to make me happy, I just needed to let her.
Next was a text from Shelby wondering if I was up and showered. She had my boutonniere and was going to bring it by around nine. I shot back a quick text letting her know that I was up and ready for her whenever she got here.
I wanted to ask Shelby if there were any logistics that she needed help with, but I knew she’d tell me that she had it covered and that I should just enjoy my wedding day.
If she only knew.
I dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt—no need to put on the tux yet—and opened my bedroom door. Noise in the kitchen piqued my curiosity, and I walked through the apartment to find Mom standing next to the stove, pulling out a pan.
“Hey, ma,” I said as I walked over to her and planted a kiss on the top of her head.
Mom looked over at me. She looked a little worse for wear as she gave me a weary smile. “Why did you let me drink like that?” she asked as she set the pan down on the stove and yawned.
I frowned at her. “Trust me, there was no way I could have slowed you down last night. You were on a roll.” I glanced around at the ingredients she had laid out on the counter. “What are you making?”
“Omelets,” she said as she pulled open the fridge and grabbed the carton of eggs.
“Can I help?”
She shook her head. “It’s your wedding day. I’ll make you breakfast.”
I eyed her, but she just waved me away.
“Go. Sit,” she demanded.
I sighed as I walked over to the coffee machine and pulled down a mug from the cupboard above it. Once the mug was topped off, I obeyed my mother and moved to sit on a barstool so I could watch her.
My mind started to relax as I watched Mom crack eggs into a big bowl. The stress of last night started to dull, and I began to believe that I might actually get through the day. But then Mom’s gaze met mine, and I realized she had things she wanted to say. Things I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear.
