An SK Kind of Wedding

Chapter 1

Wedding day

This is the day I have been waiting for my entire life.

Ever since I was a little girl, I had this dream of myself walking down the aisle exactly as I am doing right now—in my vintage off-shoulder gown and silver stilettoes, my hair done up in a chic chignon, and my makeup just right—holding on to the arms of my mother and father on either side of me, my eyes trained on the man waiting for me at the altar. In my little girl's dream, my groom would be in a white suit, and he would have a big goofy smile on his face as tears stream down his cheeks.

My father squeezes my hand, and my mother pats my shoulder.

This is really happening.

The beautiful a capella version of Canti Chorum accompanies my every step closer to the man I love. He is in a white suit, but his is not a goofy smile. Nevertheless, it is disarming. His eyes are shining with unshed tears. The aisle is strewn with red and pink rose petals. The faces of family and friends beam at me as I pass them by.

Halfway to the altar, I am distracted by a very unusual sight: a lone red balloon slowly floating up to the church ceiling. My heart skips a beat, then I see a sudden movement to my right.

A figure is hurrying toward my groom, something in its hand.

Oh no.

No.

No!

This is not happening!

Not on my wedding!

I let go of my parents, whip off my veil, and run.

o o o o o

A week ago

Why him?

Because . . . you know what? I don't need to answer you.

I want another chance.

You've used up all your chances.

Carrie, please.

I'm sorry. We've been split up for almost two years now. Move on.

Bitch.

I stared at the last message from Kurt, and I felt an unwelcome weight of dread in the pit of my stomach. I didn't answer anymore, fearing I might bait him more. He never messaged me back.

Where did we go wrong?

Two years ago

Kurt and I had a very tumultuous relationship. From the first time we met during a common friend's birthday party at a bar, I was smitten. He was everything I ever found attractive in a guy—tall, well built, good-looking, longish hair, confident, almost cocky, with a dazzlingly perfect smile against his well-chiseled dark face.

I've never met anyone quite like him before, in all my years of dating, and I'm not shy to say that I've dated quite a bit. He had an intensity that I found very alluring. He was probably the first one who convinced me that fast was okay.

We were like a supernova, exploding brightly for a moment, then fading out slowly. Was it love? I thought so . . . when we were in the moment. We couldn't get enough of each other. Every moment we were not together was agony. But at some point, we had to go back to a reality that included our respective careers, friends, and families. In short, we needed to get back down to earth.

Apparently, Kurt didn't share the same sentiments. He said we should be enough for each other. So, we began fighting: every time I couldn't answer his calls or messages; every time I couldn't agree with all his demands to see each other because I either had work or family commitments; every time he would turn up unannounced anywhere I was at the moment, doing something else.

Like a stalker.

I mean he had an uncanny way of knowing where I was at any moment, even if I've done my best to ensure no one, who he could ask and check with, knew.

The hot and heavy romance turned dark and creepy fast. The intensity I found initially attractive had become almost frightening.

It had not been easy breaking up with him. Every time I tried, he begged me to give him another chance, and sadly, I would cave because I was still very much drawn to him. For a short while, we would be back to where we were—him overwhelming me with his presence and sweeping me off my feet at first, and then after a while, demanding and scary. When I decided I had had enough of the cycle, and no longer could give him another chance, things got ugly.

Because, according to him, no one dumped Kurt Benitez.

He laughed like he didn't believe what I just said.

"Didn't you hear me, Kurt? We can't continue like this. I want out!"

"You've said that several times in the past, Carrie, but you always come sniveling back to me!"

My pride hurt big time, but I needed to make this stand.

"This is the last time, I swear, Kurt. I mean it, this is it."

"Keep telling yourself that, Carrie. You know you'll never find anyone quite like me."

"And good thing too, you know? I pity the women you would get involved with next!" It was unnecessary, but I just blurted it out. I was angry. I was livid. I just really wanted him out of my life.

He stopped smiling, and his handsome face took on that aspect that was very frightening, like he could cut me in half just by his stare.

"Be careful what you say, Carrie. No one else will ever want you after me. You should be thankful I am even into you because you're not that hot you know?"

This was a favorite past time of Kurt. Making sure I felt like shit. Even if I knew he was just saying those words to hurt me, they pierced the armor I tried so hard to maintain with him around.

"Well, you know what? I'll take my chances. If I die alone, I would still be happier than in this hell of a relationship with you!"

He raised his hand, and I was afraid he was going to hit me. I braced myself.

He stopped and smiled at me, at my reaction. "Dear Carrie, always the jumpy one. How would you survive alone in the world with no one like me to protect you?"

"I'll manage. I just want you gone."

"Sure, sure, tell yourself that. But you'll come back to me, just like before. Because no one else will love you like I do. I know every little thing about you. I know what makes you tick. I know what you like."

"Shut up, Kurt. I am done. Leave."

He laughed derisively. But he left.

I'm sure he didn't think it was the last time he was ever going to set foot in my apartment. I was going to make sure it was.

It got so ugly that I swore off dating and any hint of a romantic relationship for a long time. It didn't matter that I was almost thirty and my biological clock was ticking.

Oh, and I took up self-defense classes and even learned to shoot a gun.

That ugly.

It took me almost a year before I started feeling safe again.