Page 45 of Unwrapped
“You think I wanted to disappoint her?”
“You turned her down, didn’t you?” He doesn’t wait for my answer. “I’ve got news for you, man. Big Shot has wanted her foryears. He kept his distance out of respect for you, but one of these days he’ll make his move. Are you going to let it happen tonight?”
My blood boils with the thought of Camille in Jude’s arms, but my brain’s default mode kicks in. “But Ryan’s gonna be at the wedd—”
“But Ryan, my dick!” Sawyer bellows into the phone. “Enoughwith the buts! Jesus Christ, Dean. Do you hear yourself? I could sit here and list out all the obstacles I’m facing. But Sandra. But the court. But having no clue how to be a single parent. But, but, but. I could wallow in misery and accept defeat. Am I doing any of that? Fuck no. I’mfighting. Bottom line, if you love that woman, you fight for her.”
“It’s more complicated than what I want, Sully.” The statement leaves my lips automatically, but for some reason, it doesn’t hold its usual weight. Maybe it’s the anger simmering in my veins from yelling at my mother, or my frustration with myself for fucking up everything, but I’m no longer convinced my life is all that complicated.
“Only because you’re making it that way. I’m tired of you always coming up with excuses for your unhappiness. Your own inaction is the reason you’re miserable. You let Cami walk away from you eleven years ago, and you did it again last week. For what? Feelings of loyalty toward your asshole brother, who only cares about himself? Respect for your mom, whose head is so far up Ryan’s ass, the only thing she sees is shit? Why are you giving them that power? Would they do the same for you?”
“No. They wouldn’t.” I make the admission without thinking, then sit bolt upright in a moment of clarity. Reeling, I drag both hands over my face as the pieces fit themselves together in my head. “They’ll never be the ones who put in the work.”
My idea of loyalty and respect doesn’t align with what my family believes. Their actions speak for themselves. Why has it taken me this long to finally see that? Forget my mother’s neglect, the whole sibling dynamic is one-sided. Ryan basks in the glory of his success, reaping the benefits at my expense, while I wallow in defeat.
He wins, I lose.
He thrives, I hurt.
All because I accepted his terms without question. I clench my fists, enraged by my history of martyrdom.
“My point, exactly. You can choose to sit ringside for the rest of your life, or you can dig out your gloves. What’s it gonna be, my friend?”
I’m done with being passive. I launch myself off the bed and stalk to my dresser, snatching Ryan’s most recent campaign flyer. His pompous face stares back at me, and it finally clicks.
He and Mom were never the problem to begin with.I was. I made myself a fucking martyr, and now I’ve hurt Camille even more. Eleven years ago, I stood back when she fell into Ryan’s arms. I let him seduce her when she should’ve been mine. He would never have hurt her if I’d manned the fuck up and gone after her. But I didn’t.
And now? History is repeating itself because I didn’t learn my lesson. I allowed her to walk away from me last weekend when I should’ve held on to her. I’m the one at fault for our breakup. I’ve done nothing but hurt the woman I love.
I’m the true villain in this story.
The realization plows into me, and I stumble backward clutching my chest.
All my life I’ve stepped aside so Ryan could move forward. Accepted defeat without question. Sure, my family walked all over me, but Iallowedmyself to be their doormat. Well, guess what? I’m tired of being trampled. My days of putting myself last are over. I deserve a victory for once, and Camille deserves a hero, not a spineless fuck who can’t stand up to his own family.
I tear his photo in half, crumpling it in my fist. “I want to be in the ring.”
“It’s about fucking time.”
Mood Music: “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear” by Norah Jones
As far as marriage ceremonies go, this one was short, sweet, and relatively painless. Even though my stomach was twisted in a giant knot, I kept my gaze riveted on the bride, and never once made eye contact with my ex. I refused to give him the satisfaction. Jude said Ryan stared at me throughout the whole thing. Good. He should stare. I look beautiful in my red satin gown.
He wasn’t the only one staring when Jude and I showed up in his expensive sports car. Whispers of, “Oh my God, that’s Jude Holland!” filled my ears as we strolled into the venue. It amazes me how people flock toward the ones with money. Granted, Jude is a literal billionaire—and he looksbeyondstunning in his suit and tie—but everyone’s acting like he’s royalty. When I asked if the attention bothers him, he shrugged and said, “It’s all part of the job, sugar.”
I can’t imagine being in the spotlight like that.
We make our way to one of the smaller ballrooms at Hotel Polaris for the cocktail hour, claiming a table in the far corner.
He sips his whiskey—the one alcoholic drink he’s having tonight—and surveys the room. “This place is nice.”
“I know. I’ve always loved this venue. My job has their annual New Year’s Eve bash here, so I’ll be back next week. I love how it’s all Christmassy,” I murmur, taking in the garland and twinkling lights. “I hope they keep the decorations up until after the new year.”
“Most places do.”
“If not, they really should. It’s gorgeous.” I admire the row of decorated trees on the opposite side of the room and make a mental note to have a closer look at their ornaments. The festivity seeps into my soul, calming me and chasing away the sadness I’ve clung to all week. The fog is lifting, and no matter what happens tonight, I’ll get through it. Even the string quartet near the bar is playing their version of “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.”
“You look beautiful, Cami.”
