“Well,” I said wistfully as I sat beside him, wondering whether I should say it to him or not. But what was the point of hiding it anyway?
“I love you.” I finally announced, heart-clenching as I looked earnestly at his face, my hands clutching each other nervously. It had taken a lot of will for me to open up and say that, but I knew that when it came to things like this, one of us had to take the first step.
But why wasn’t he saying anything?
“Tom?”
He still didn’t say anything. He was as still as a board, his back ramrod straight as he sat on the chair and his eyes looked forward. He reminded me of a statue and, slowly, a dark, crushing fear started to creep up on me.
“Tom? Aren’t you gonna say anything?”
“Sorry, Kylie,” He stood up, roving his eyes around the room. And the next thing I saw was his hand reaching for his laptop, the shirt spread on the sofa, his car keys, and a novel which he’d given to me earlier today.
“W-wait… w-what are you doing?” I stammered, shooting up as my heart hammered in my ears. He walked towards the door. “Wait! Tom! What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m leaving.”
And with that, he opened up the door and left the house, leaving me with tears in my eyes and a shocked, disbelieving expression on my face.
Chapter Seven
Tom
Remember all those sappy romantic movies? The ones that are always like: guy meets girl, guy falls in love with girl, guy or girl does something to mess things up and their love is challenged, but in the end, guy and girl always get back together after a grand show of their affection, preferably in public and ending with a cheesy, romantic proposal?
Those things always made me feel like puking.
In fact, I’d gone through something I called The Purge three years ago, marching around the house and hunting down every symbol of the fairytale love that still lingered around the corners. I loved my daughter, loved my business and even loved my money. But between men and women, that kind of unconditional love was a sham.
But then again, why am I here?
If the Tom of the past peeked at me knocking on Frank’s door right now, about to break the news of the century, would he die of a heart attack?
Probably not.
He’d have just killed himself. Just to make sure he did not become this detestable, love-struck being I was today.
How did it even come to this?
I honestly had no idea. One moment, I was running out of my daughter’s wedding with the memory of a woman’s hot kiss on my lips and the next, I found myself drinking vodka in a cheap apartment, gulping to the tune of Michael Buble’s ‘It’s a Beautiful Day’ while Kylie’s heartbroken face played and replayed through my head like the world’s most wicked broken radio.
Kylie…
I rang the doorbell, my heart clenching painfully.
How did I for once think I could live without her?
This week had been nothing short of hell. I couldn’t concentrate on work, I was a total jerk to everyone, including my poor secretary, I shouted at the mailman, the interns at the company, even the damn bellboy. Everything annoyed me and it had taken days for me to see why.
It was her.
I missed her.
But after admitting how much she meant to me, I’d been reminded of the reasons I couldn’t be with her, and how big of a jerk I’d been the last time we met and that only led me further through the downward spiral.
How could I have been so blind?
And now, after spending days as a drunken mess, I finally decided to man up and do the right thing. Just like in those corny romantic movies, I was going to do something grand. But this time, rather than the bride, I was to face my best friend, Frank.
And I was not looking forward to it.
“Hey man,” He smiled as he opened the door, “You’re right on time. I was just about to open up a bottle of scotch!”
Strung too tight for such jokes, I gave a brief smile. But of course, he noticed my tense mood. Raising his eyes, he said, “Something wrong?”
“I have to tell you something.”
“Sure. Glass of scotch first?”
Following him to his living room, I balled my hands into fists. There was no point in delaying this.
“There’s a woman.” I boomed out, stopping dead in my tracks as I leveled my eyes at him, “And I…” I swallowed, “I love her. True love. The kind that makes me stay up all night wondering what she’s doing. Yes, that kind of love.”
Frank's hand paused mid-air, still holding the bottle of scotch, “What?”
“I said I’m in love.”
“Are you kidding me right now?”
I didn’t say a word. We’d been friends long enough for him to know when I was dead serious.
Frank’s eyes went wide and I almost stepped forward in worry. But I held my ground. This was my grand gesture and although I didn’t need Frank’s approval, I owed him this. After all, I’d been the one to suggest The Merry Men club idea.
“Her name is Kylie, Frank, and I’m going to marry her.”
***
Kylie
“That is absurd!”
“No!” Susan screamed at her sister, reaching over to snatch the pack of cheerios from the table, “I tell you. I saw it myself. The baby stood up and talked, Jessie. She talked!”
“I think maybe you just had a little too much to drink that night?”
“Ugh.” Susan whipped her head at me, “What do you think, Kylie?”
Sighing, I picked up the laundry and put it back into the basket as I shook my head, refusing to look at them. They probably planned this, and had maybe gone over the script for this very, very bad show they were putting on in my living room. The pity party here was even worse than when that ex-fiance left me at the altar.
And this was not even the worst of it all
