Everything, from the china to the prime rib, is the exact replica of our table the night we got married. He even had a small cake decorated to match the top tier of our wedding cake. I should be laughing and crying at the sentimental gesture. But as I stare at it now, the emptiness I feel in the memory enrages me. I remember picking out the original cake like it was yesterday.
Brett loved peanut butter cake more than anything else, but the brown icing was ugly as all hell. So I had the bakery make a special peanut butter cake just for him but cover it in white icing so it would match my vision for the day. You should have seen my mother’s disgust when I told her the flavors I chose. However, that cake was us. I was always the free spirit, while Brett was focused and career-driven. Yet, just like that cake, we fit together despite everyone else’s expectations. It just worked.
"I was hoping it would remind you of happier times," he bites out when his overflowing emotions flip to anger from my rejection.
"Jesus Christ, I remember. I just don’t care!" I say the words honestly, but I didn’t mean for them to be the verbal knife that twists in his gut.
He swallows hard, and it’s more than I can take to witness his reaction. He will never understand how much I want to be the person he remembers—the person I remember. Instead, I feel so distant and removed. I’m completely alone, even though there is a beautiful man standing in front of me, begging me to love him.
"So, you remember sobbing your entire way through your vows?" he asks as tears prick his eyes.
I can’t do this with him again. I can’t watch him melt down—again. I’m not his wife anymore.
"I want a divorce," I say as my own tears begin to fall.
"So, you remember dragging me into the employee lounge at the reception just because you couldn’t wait a minute longer to make love to your husband?" he asks roughly, planting his hands on his hips.
"Please don’t do this. I don’t remember these things the same way you do. Just stop," I beg. My memories don’t pain me, but hearing his memories destroys me. I want to be Sarah Sharp again. However, just figuring out the Sarah part is hard enough.
He continues as if his words can force me to feel something. "So, you remember holding me so tight during our first dance that you joked that we were going to meld together?"
Suddenly, my frustration with the whole fucking situation overtakes me. "What do you want from me? Lies? I fucking hate that you do this to me. You can’t make me feel it, so I’d rather just forget every single minute of the past with you. Every tear. Every kiss. Every fuck! I want to erase it all. Maybe then you will leave me the hell alone. I am not that woman anymore. No matter how hard you fucking try, no amount of cake or fancy dinners in the world will make me magically come back to you."
My chest is heaving, but if Brett heard me at all, he doesn’t show it. He ignores me and takes three giant steps forward, cornering me against the wall. Then he reaches out, grabbing either side of my face and leveling me with his green stare.
"Come back to me," he demands desperately. "Goddamn it, come back to me. I can’t do this without you. We can start over—make a new life. Whatever you want. Just… Goddamn it. Please," His frantic tone shreds me.
When his mouth slams over mine, I don’t even have the energy to push him away. I stand motionless as he attempts to lure me into a kiss.
"Please, Sarah. Just come back," he whispers against my mouth as he peppers kisses over my lips.
And because I deserve it, I keep my eyes open and watch every heartbreaking emotion as he pleads. Brett Sharp is just one more person I have destroyed.
Finally, he stills and his eyes open. A single tear slides down his cheek, matching the steady stream falling from my own. He begins shaking his head and drops his hands from my face. Then he roughly shoves them through his hair before letting out a humorless laugh and covering his mouth with a hand.
"Fuck!" he explodes, spinning around and flipping over the entire dining room table.
The dishes shatter against the floor, and that fucking cake smashes into a million pieces.
Completely ruined—just like us.
"I shouldn’t have asked that," Casey says awkwardly, walking into the kitchen, as I stand frozen, desperately trying to escape the memories.
When I turn to tell her it’s okay, a knock on the door stops the unspoken words. As nerves flutter in my stomach, I try to calm myself. I run a hand through my hair as I head for the door and pull it open. However, the minute I lay eyes on the gorgeous man holding a red Gatorade with a messy bow and small bouquet of mixed flowers, I immediately relax.
"Hey, babe," Leo says with a warm grin as he steps forward to kiss my cheek.
"Hey," I laugh, taking the Gatorade and flowers from his hands. "You know this does not make me feel positive about going out with you again."
"Well, I figured, with my luck recently, I should at least make sure you’re prepared this time." He leans away to catch my eyes, a devilish gleam in his own. "You’re beautiful." He gives me a very obvious head-to-toe assessment and pauses on my breasts for a second too long.