Forget me not

Two

Emilia

8 hours of driving across the country in silence. Confused and frustrated and angry at myself for, undoubtedly hurting not only Mason but his entire family.

I was ripping myself in half. Right down the middle and as much as I wanted either decision to be the right one. Neither of them was. One landed me a title of serious bitch. Putting me up amongst some of the worst people in the world. Not even calling the wedding off. Waiting until literal minutes before to dash out of the door and leave Fliss with my mess to clean up.

The other option. Marrying him. Going back telling him I got cold feet but I regret it and getting someone to marry us right there and then so we could be back on track. It made me feel sick. I didn't want to marry him. Not yet. I still feel like a kid. I shouldn't be talking about marriage and taxes or talking to doctors with my mother-in-law about how quickly I can get pregnant once I come off my contraception. I still feel 17. I'm not old enough to be having kids. I would be. Eventually. In a few years. I'd be ready to do it all with Mason there as a part time dad who's only there when he has to be. But he was already getting shit for us being together for 7 years and us not being married. 'Time was running out for her to have plenty of children. If you want 5 Mason, you need to get started'. I'd heard his mother say in early December. FIVE. I barely want 1 and they wanted five. As in three, four, FIVE.

I pulled the light green Fiat 500 into the spot I always parked in. He must have moved the spare into the garage when I left last time. A quick overnight stay last Christmas. Just me and Fliss. We were here less than 24 hours.

Right now, my focus was on the three other cars parked in front of the house.

He wasn't home alone.

I don't know why I was expecting him to be. His daughter was supposed to be getting married miles away and he hadn't been important enough to hit the guest list. Of course, he needed company tonight. I was exhausted. Needed out of this dress desperately. But I can't just walk into the house like this. My dad's best friend and son do not need to see me dressed up for a wedding when I haven't seen them since I left for college.

Only one option Emilia. We're going old school.

I climbed out of the car, silently closing the door and gathering as much of the dress as I possibly could, creeping around to the side. I'd done this hundreds of times with Chris. Sneaking in and out in the middle of the night. Never in a ballgown though. I guess there's a first time for everything.

I wrapped my hand around the wooden trellis, pulled at it as hard as I could to make sure it could stand my weight. Even though I weighed less than I did when I last did this. The dress weighed about a million pounds though. With a deep breath, I kicked my heels off and started climbing up and across the roof of the porch to my room.

There had always been a knack to this window. If Dad ever closed it whilst I was out, if he'd fallen for the pile of pillows and wig under the duvet that was, I could open it from the outside. Just had to push the right side slightly and it -should- yes!

I ducked in, pulling the dress to the floor behind me and carefully closing the window before they felt a breeze and came looking.

Band posters and old film photos littered the walls, ramming memories into my head as I flicked on the bedroom lamp and pulled on my wardrobe doors. Not a lot remained. Shorts and tee-shirts, 2 dresses and a single pair of jeans. 'Just in case' Dad had said when I was packing to leave. 'Leave some clothes here in case you come home and need them.' I honestly think he can see the future sometimes.

I'm glad that I'd put my bag in Fliss' car this morning. My phone, purse, ID. Everything I needed to survive right now was in there. I was also glad that I had savings to fall back onto. Not a massive amount. 10 thousand. Enough for me to work out what I want to do next, get myself some clothes and whatever else. Ice cream. By the litre.

"Cheddar-" Uh oh. I flicked the lamp off, standing otherwise perfectly still. It wasn't the cat he was looking for. It was the creaks of these fucking floorboards. "What are you doing you dumb cat?" A tired meow echoed from the hallway and I held my breath. I just want to go to bed and have today be over with already. I don't want to explain or talk about it or have them see me like this. I want this dress off and I want my bed and I want my dad. I bit down on my cheek. Stopping the tears as they threatened to fall. "Trashing her room again h------ Mia?"

I swallowed, shook my head. No. I wasn't here. He hadn't seen me. He was making it up.

"You- what- how-" He looked down at the dress, dropping Cheddar from his hands. That cat couldn't care less about the arrival of a new person in his house.

"I'm not here Chris."

"You are." I can't tell how he was feeling. I always knew how Chris was feeling. Always. But right now, he was an enigma. Maybe 8 years of us not seeing each other has trashed our telepathic bond or something. That or he was too confused to show me the feeling right now.

He'd grown up. Annoyingly. It's been 8 years Emilia. Of course, he'd grown up. Don't be stupid.

Tattoos and muscle and he was taller. He had a beard. Kind of. Like he'd only been growing it for a few weeks. It wasn't massive. He was. A good 6 foot 2. He was tall before but not like this. At 20 he wasn't this built either. Either way, he was still as stunning as when I left and even in the chaos of everything else right now, I was certain that 7 years apart had done jack shit for my crush on him. It was here, alive, and well. For fuck sake. Like I needed more complications right now.

"Hey Hank?"

"Yeah."

"Please don't Chris."

"What, were you planning on just staying in his house without saying anything? Have you gone mad?"

"Do I look fucking sane to you right now?" He half smiled. That same stupid smile he pulled whenever I was mad at him and he'd made me laugh.

"I don't know. Maybe you're always wearing a huge dress up in Easton. 7 years is long enough for you to change your style."

"8 years. And no. I don't. Now go away. I want to crawl into bed and forget I exist for the rest of my life."

"Mmm. Yeah so that's not happening. Get changed and come downstairs."

"No."

"Yes."

"No." Chris stepped forward. "I'm serious."

"I know you are. You're gonna come down anyway though."

"No-"

"Yeah you are because as mad as I am about you not calling or coming back or inviting us to your wedding, I'm going to pretend everything's perfectly fine. You don't need it right now."

"I want-"

"I know. You've said. You want to crawl into your bed and cry. I get it. Dramatic and everyth-"

"I am not-"

"Want me to carry you down like this?"

"What? No! I didn't climb in through the window for you all to see me-"

"Running away from your husband?"

"He's not my husband." I crossed my arms. He was enjoying this way too much. He was mad though. I could see it in his eyes. Apparently hurting people is second nature to me now. Don't know when that happened. It's all I seem to do. Drop a bombshell and leave the destruction before I can see the damage.

"Then why are you in a wedding dress?"

"You know why dipshit. You're not stupid."

"Say it."

"You're annoying."

"Not that."

"Go away Chris."

"Did you leave him at the alter?"

"DAD. WILL YOU COME GET THIS PRICK? I'M TRYING TO GET DRESSED." Chris smirked. He didn't want to tell my dad I was here. He wanted me to do it and he'd purposely bugged me until he got his own way.

"I'll get you a beer."

"Why so I can smash it over your head?"

"No. Because you need a drink Usain Bolt. I'll be back in 10 if you're not on that sofa."