And I know what I need to do. Know that it’s not the truth but I need to be the bad guy here. Hurt him now to ensure Sarah has the best shot in a marriage with this emotionally stunted man who she loves.
“Yes. Loved. And I fell out of love with you a long time ago, Mitch.” I shake my head, twist my lips, and my fingers twirl around a lock of hair. I give the best acting job I can give. Try to use the upset I feel over purposely lying to him to drive the emotion in my next words. “I lied. I’m sorry. Hayes came back a few months before our wedding. I accidentally ran into him and what I felt for him, Mitch, was so very different, so much more powerful, than what I’d felt for you. And so . . . I tried to get over it. Over him. Attempted to push him from my mind and focus on you and our wedding but I couldn’t. The things you hated about me, he loved. The things you were trying to change in me, he praised. And I realized that even if Hayes and I never worked out, I couldn’t marry someone who didn’t appreciate those things about me.”
There’s hurt in his eyes. Wounded pride. And despite lying to him about the time frame, I realize everything else I’ve said is true.
“So it’s all true then.” He says the question as a statement, as if he doesn’t want me to respond. His voice is resigned. Disbelieving.
“What’s true?”
He shakes his head and chuckles beneath his breath like I should know what he’s referring to.
“Let me ask you something.” His voice lowers and eyes narrow. “What happens when you wake up one morning and Hayes is gone? Because he will leave, Saylor. He’s left you once before. It’s not like you don’t know about him and his girlfriend, right? How he cheated and walked away. So what makes you think you’re so special that he’s going to stick around this time? Because sorry to break it to you, but you’re not. You’re nothing in comparison to that spotlight he lives his life in. The one he obviously needs because he picked it over you before and as sure as hell, he’ll do it again. He’s Hollywood and you’re just . . . you. If you were devastated before, how do you think you’re going to feel when he does it now, knowing everything you gave up for him?”
My throat burns from the emotion his words are conjuring up. They dig deep down into the recesses of my mind where I’ve been trying to play dumb and ignore the what happens next aspect of this weekend. But with Mitch in front of me and his words ringing in my ears, I can’t avoid the fear they bring to me since the ghost of the previous devastation is still a shadow in my heart.
While I may feel unsettled, I know I sure as hell don’t want him to see the emotions I’m most likely wearing on my sleeve either.
“Excuse me, I need to use the restroom,” I say as I stand and clear my throat. “Best of luck to you and Sarah.”
I stride confidently from the room.
And I was wrong before. This—this walk—is my best acting job.
Because it’s Saylor Rodgers.
I remind myself again because I’m done playing the nice guy. Done standing here with a cheesy smile plastered to my face, taking picture after picture for the same people who’ve had no problem muttering shitty things under their breath all night long about the woman I love.
Another picture.
Love?
Flash burning my eyes. Smile a bit wider.
Seriously, Whitley? Love?
A shake of a hand.
Love.
A thank you for a compliment. Another autograph.
It’s always been her in some way. Hasn’t it?
Another photograph. Another hug I don’t want to give.
Yes. Love.
Smile for Saylor’s sake. To make them leave her the fuck alone.
Love. Hmpf. Who would have thought?
A forced smile. An apologetic excuse that I need to get back to my date.
Now what are you going to do about it?
A narrow escape from another hug by a woman smothered in strong perfume and a dodge of a lipstick smudge on my cheek.
Of course when I get into the main hall of the reception, Saylor’s nowhere to be found. My mind’s reeling from my realization and yet it shouldn’t be. How did I not realize I still loved her the moment I saw her in her cupcake shop with blue flecks of frosting in her hair and that feistiness front and center?
She’s not at the bar. Not at the table. Shit. I shouldn’t have left her alone. Shouldn’t have assumed she’d be fine despite her reassurances.
I see one of the others from our table. “Hey, do you know where Saylor went?”
“I saw her head outside a few minutes ago. Right before it started thundering.”
“Thank you,” I murmur and head that direction. The thunder rumbles the minute I head out onto the patio to look for her. It’s dark now and the air smells like rain.