Page 221 of Bridesmaid Undercover
“Just stay away from me,” she says, moving past me and grabbing her dress.
“Everly, wait,” I say as I stand as well. “It’s not like that.”
“I don’t want to hear it.” She picks up the dresses I didn’t put away and brings them over to the rack, where she hangs them up.
I watch her angrily make sure everything is in place and when she’s done, she heads toward the shop’s back door, and I follow closely behind.
“Everly, can I just explain?”
“No,” she snaps. “I never should have let you touch me in the first place. I swore to myself that I wouldn’t. That I wouldn’t give in, and then, God, one look from you, and I’m breaking every rule in my head. I’m such an idiot.”
“You’re not,” I say as she opens the door and steps out with her dress draped over her arm. “Everly, this is all just one big mistake.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” she says as she ushers me out of the store and shuts the door. She presses a few buttons on the keypad, and the lock clicking into place fills the silence between us.
And with that, she heads toward her car, which is parked on the street behind the store.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I say, pushing my hand through my hair. “I meant how I handled all of this.”
“Yeah, well, it was probably best so I didn’t get too attached. Breaking me on morning one was the way to go, Hardy. Now I just need to stick to that broken spirit and stop believing there could be more.”
“But there could be,” I say, moving in front of her so I can look her in the eyes. When her watery gaze meets mine, it feels like a gut punch so deep that I can feel the pain all the way through every nerve ending. “I spoke with Haisley, Everly. She said…she said she just wants us to be happy.”
A lone tear rolls down Everly’s cheek and before I can brush it away for her, she wipes it herself.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” she asks. “Is that supposed to make me throw my arms around you and celebrate?”
“I…well…no,” I say with a pinch to my brow. “But, I thought?—”
“You thought what, Hardy? That I was going to automatically forget about everything else? And if she wasn’t going to stand in the way of anything happening, then why would you once again fuck around with me? Why not just tell me?”
I drag my hands down my face as frustration engulfs me.
Not frustration with her, but frustration with myself.
“Because I thought that I could warm you up first, show you that I wanted you and then, I don’t know…tell you that we could be together.”
She shakes her head. “Wow, Hardy, and here I thought you were a smart man.” She takes a step back from me. “You realize the kind of torment I’ve been putting myself through, right? I hated myself the day you came into my office because I wanted nothing to do with you, and then there I was, wanting you so badly, giving in to temptation and comfort—the same comfort you gave me that night. But at what expense? You should have told me then that everything was cool with Haisley.”
“I didn’t think you would believe me, that you would accept that answer. I wanted to show you that I wanted you, that you were the person for me, regardless of my family or work or anything else.”
“By continuing to mess with my head? You’re playing games, Hardy, and I don’t want to and won’t be part of it.” She turns on her heel and walks toward her car.
“Everly, wait,” I say as I jog after her. When I touch her shoulder, she spins on me, her finger going right to my chest.
“Don’t,” she says in a stern tone. “Don’t touch me. Don’t come near me. I’m not kidding when I say whatever this was…is…it’s over. After this weekend, I will be asking Maggie to move me off any events with the Hoppers and the Canes. I’ll have Scarlett take them over because I’m done. I don’t want this.” She looks me in the eyes. “And I don’t want you.”
Her words slice right through me as she turns away, opens her car door, shoves her dress in and then slams the door shut.
I stand there, stunned, gasping for air as I realize just how badly I fucked this up.
How I lost her because of my own dumb choices.
How I probably won’t recover from this, because the girl I’m supposed to be with, the girl I’ve fallen for…my girl…she’s driving away with no intention of ever seeing me again.
“I knowmy dad’s speech was a bit boring,” Ken says, coming up to me at the bar. “But I didn’t think it was so boring that it would make the best man seem like a depressed sack of potatoes.”
A sack of potatoes on one of the fanciest rooftop bars in San Francisco—not sure that’s what Ken and Polly’s parents were going for with this rehearsal dinner. And I attempted to tuck myself away from the romantic ambience—with the twinkle lights shining above the soon-to-be-married couple, the soft instrumental music pouring through hidden speakers is setting the mood for friends and family to pair up and peacefully sway together.
