Prologue
May, 2012
It was like his senses were in overdrive: the fast dripping of the leaky faucet, the tickticktick of the clock overhead, even the roaring beat of his own racing heart echoed loudly in his ears.
And that was just hearing. Everything in front of him moved by as if in fast-forward: the women in front of him moving fast in dresses with silk ribbons and matching teal chiffon as they adjusted make-up or straps to their heels, the hairstylist fluffing and spraying hair as she walked past each and every one. He felt his eyes darting back and forth between them all, searching, seeking.
The moment he walked in the door, he zeroed in on spotting her. She was the only one that mattered; had been for the last seven (well, three, with the feelings) years. Her laugh was heard, silencing every other distraction - but he didn’t see her.
Her.
And then he saw her. A glowing light adorned in a white gown, grinning widely and talking animatedly with the woman doing her make-up.
Her.
The woman he was to be walking down the aisle in the next twenty minutes to marry the man of her dreams.
Her.
The woman he had been in love with for three of the seven years they had known each other; never brave enough, never the right time to speak on his feelings - not when the man waiting at the altar had swooped in only months after he realized that he might have been in love with the girl he looked at as his greatest confidante and biggest support system.
It was too late now; their marital home and just been closed on weeks prior, honeymoon booked, future family planned. And he might have said something until he saw the dreamy look in her eyes as she spoke of their plans for a family; a family that he was sure he could never give her - he wouldn’t. He would have given her every piece of him, move heaven and earth, give the world - but children? Children were never a plan for him. Now? He loved playing and being an uncle, loved children - but he didn’t see himself as a father himself.
He thought maybe that would change within the walls of the many relationships that he had - that he’d see himself marrying, having children with them - building his own family like the one he grew up with, but it never happened. The need to pass down his genes, his name - was never an urge, never a tug at the heart.
He tried to get over her; he tried to move on with stable relationships (because that was how he was, what he was known for). A couple lasted a year, maybe two. Another couple only lasted a few months. Four women came and went, and while it stung, it didn’t sting like the moment she showed up at his door with a boulder that reflected the sunlight on her finger.
It still stung to this day.
He raised a hand to his chest as he felt the familiar deep pressure in his sternum, now sure that this was going to be how he went: a silent, broken heart. The only one to blame would be himself - he could have made opportunity, could have even ruined moments just so she knew.
She had to of known. Had to. He might not have vocalized it, but he knew his actions spoke loudly enough.
He made sure to get her favorite flowers on her birthday. Got her gifts every Christmas. He held her hand when she cried. Held her hair back when she got sick. He was there when her father died (which now came back to bite him in the ass, as she asked him to escort her down the aisle).
“Hey.”
He shook from his thoughts as a soft hand touched his wrist, bringing him back to reality. A concerned gaze met his, blue eyes meeting blue. Swallowing hard, he forced a smile, fully aware of the soft skin just barely grazing his hand now. “Hey, you.”
She shifted on her feet, still unsure about him. “Are you okay? You didn’t respond when I called you and you zoned out for a bit, there. And you were pressing into your chest -“
“Heartburn,” he said quickly, stopping her concerned observations. “And I was just taking it all in, is all. There’s a lot going on and I didn’t want to get in the way.”
“You sure? You look awfully pale …” She took his hand, pulling him into the room and sitting him down in a chair, joining him in the seat next to the one he now occupied. Her hand held his in her lap, still studying his face. “Josh, if you’re not okay -“
“I’m okay, I promise.”
It wasn’t the first time he lied to her. Wouldn’t be the last at this rate. How much more could be spew out into the world until it came back in some negative karmic energy?
He inhaled slowly as he finally took a moment to look at her. To really look at her.
His Genevieve. Gen. Gigi.
if he couldn’t breathe before, he was suffocating now.
Her gown hugged every curve of her body, from her breasts to her thighs before fanning out slightly. The bodice was heart-shaped (which, he learned was a princess neckline after all the depressing visits to the bridal store with her), bottom of the dress ruffled. But his favorite part? The back. A deep drop showing her fair skin and a train that also ruffled to match the front, it starting right at the top of the dress - and the top curve of her ass.
Her make-up was light, cheeks glowing. If she didn’t light up his world already, she was now.
“Josh.”
She brought his attention back to her, squeezing his hand. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Slow and steady.
“Genevieve, I’m fine.” He squeezed her hand back as best he could, praying she didn’t notice how clammy his hand suddenly had gotten. He absently wiped his other hand down his pant leg, looking anywhere but at her. “It did suddenly get hot in here, though.”
She reached up, placing a cool hand to his forehead. It was relieving against the inferno that spread all over his skin as time passed and grew closer to the moment where he would give her away, give his heart away and let her take it without him. “You feel okay,” she observed, flipping her hand from palm to dorsal a few times to check the difference. “Don’t tell me you’re nervous,” she smiled, nudging him with her shoulder, “a celebrity such as yourself shouldn’t have any fear giving me away in front of 150 people when you’ve performed in front of one hundred times that.”
He pulled his hand away from hers, unintentionally hasty. “It’s not that, Gen,” he murmured, rubbing his hand where hers had enveloped it, “I’m just - “ he stopped, looking back over at her. Suddenly, it was just her in that room with him; no one else was there to bear witness to his words. “I need to tell you something.”
This was it. Timing be damned. She had to know. She had the right to know. His stomach twisted as he inhaled, she catching his reaction and grabbing his hand once more. It didn’t help the sudden onslaught of flutters and churns that began in his stomach.
“Josh -“
“Gigi, I -“
“Time to take your places, everyone! Genevieve, I need you and your escort to follow me.”
He looked over at the wedding planner, sighing deeply. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe she shouldn’t know. Who was he to throw something so heavy on her when she was getting married?
He got up quickly, her hold firm on his hand, still. “I just wanted to tell you how happy I was for you,” he said softly, hoping she wouldn’t see through the bullshit. Thankfully, she seemed to, squeezing his hand and adjusting their hold so that she was now linked through his, hand resting on his forearm. He leaned down, placed a barely there kiss to her cheek and straightened quickly, urging his heart and his mind to pay attention to the planner and have no mind to the crushing pains in his heart.
She leaned into him, her grip on his forearm tightening. “Are you ready?”
No! No, no, no, I’m not ready to let you go.
He swallowed his words, forcing a smile as he looked down at her, giving a short nod. “I am. Are you?”
She shifted, adjusting the bodice and fluffing her train. It seemed that she was stalling, just as much as he wanted to. As quick as that thought crossed his mind, she looked up to him, giving him a bright smile that nearly brought him to his knees. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
He looked forward, taking a step but freezing when he felt resistance. “Gigi -“
“Tell me this is right, Josh,” she whispered, eyes darting back and forth between him and the bridesmaids in front of them. “Tell me I made the correct choice and that I’m marrying Charlie for the right reasons.”
He swallowed, shutting his eyes as he willed his selfishness away. It was right; it had to be right - Charlie could give her things that he couldn’t. Give her a house full of babies. He loved her, too. She deserved it all. All that he could not give. Would not give.
“You did,” he said, barely managing the words as she searched his face, “he loves you. You love him.”
She nodded, both turning as the doors opened and everybody stood, waiting for their entrance. For her entrance.
He cleared his throat, reaching over and squeezing her hand reassuringly as the cue for them to begin their walk was given. “You’ve got this, Gen,” he smiled, eyes turning back to the aisle as they began their walk. “I’ve got you.”
The short walk felt like an eternity; every step he took, a piece of his heart was left behind. In mere moments, he would give her away and that would be it. That would be the end of the life he knew and he was only to blame.
As they stopped, he turned, leaning down and placing a kiss to her cheek once more. Her lips barely brushed his skin, hands now clammy in his.
“I love you,” she said softly, pulling away as a slight hint of tears glistened in her eyes. She gave him a smile, releasing her hold and stepping towards Charlie, who held his hand out to her.
He took a sharp intake of breath, catching his bearings and sitting down next to her mother, she reaching over and taking his hand and squeezing. He squeezed her hand back, shutting his eyes tightly and wishing he were anywhere but there at that moment.
He tried to think of anything, anything at all to keep him from standing and objecting; from standing, taking her hand and running, no words expressed. He would take her away from it all faster than he could write a song - faster than he could say the words.
Instead, he sung to himself in his head, off-beat, off-key - anything to bring his frustrations to something else - anything to keep him from hearing their vows, their commitment to one another.
It was the only thing he could do.
