Authors: Renee Ericson
“To Evelyn,” the guests echo.
After a clinking of glasses at the table, everyone partakes in the toast and sips their champagne.
I should be joining in on the toast, but it’s impossible at this moment. My thoughts are focused on Foster. Rising from my chair, I wrap my arms around the man who will be my husband this time tomorrow.
Not long from now, my life will be forever changed.
EIGHT
Foster
Pulling out the key card to my room, I stare at the doorknob lit by the decorative sconce of the tropical resort.
Tomorrow, at sunset, I’ll be marrying my Evelyn—the girl who somehow fits so perfectly with me, despite our differences, and the woman I love so dearly and fully, whom I’d do anything for, because her happiness brings me more joy than I ever could have imagined.
In less than twenty-four hours, we will each say our vows to become one. We will no longer be just her and me; we will officially be an us. My future will be our future, as it should be.
I left her moments ago, just after dinner. Our last minutes of being single are numbered, and I’m counting them. I will never again kiss her as a single girl or even as my fiancée. The next time our lips press together, it will be as husband and wife. Part of me will miss those carefree moments from our time as an unmarried couple. We have so many, but I’m ready for the next chapter of our story.
Flicking my wrist, I check the time on my watch. It’s not quite midnight. Struck with an idea, a plan to capture one last memory before we say
I do
, I slip the key card into my back pocket. With only about fifteen minutes until tomorrow, there’s still time left in today, the eve of our wedding. There’s time to sneak in another kiss to remember.
I back away from the door and head toward the walkway that connects all the rooms. It’s a small maze through the tropical floral to reach her room on the other side of the resort, and it takes almost five minutes to get there. I’m down to ten minutes before midnight.
I knock on her door, ready to kiss her senseless one last time.
I wait.
I knock again.
I wait some more.
I listen and hear nothing but silence on the other side of the door.
“Evelyn?” I call.
Nothing.
I check my watch again, noticing only five more minutes are left until midnight. Pulling out my phone, I resolve to texting her good night as I meander down the winding path back to my room.
As I’m about to hit Send on my text, I hear my fiancée’s familiar giggle just on the other side of a row of hibiscus bushes that divide the bungalows from the beach.
My feet instinctually carry me in her direction, like they are possessed by some force of nature, drawn to wherever she is. At the edge of the concrete, I flick off my shoes and sink my toes into the sand. To my right, only about forty feet away, Evelyn rests under the moonlight, overlooking the onyx-colored water. She smiles, laughing again, as she leans back on her elbows, revealing someone sitting next to her.
Their mouths move in conversation.
My feet move quickly as I’m set on stealing her away for a fleeting moment.
She bites her bottom lip and lowers her chin, focusing on her knees.
He touches her cheek with his palm, caressing it, and all the blood pumping in my veins freezes.
She turns her blonde head away from me.
He leans in, connecting his mouth with hers, kissing her.
He’s kissing her.
My once stilled blood jump-starts and boosts into a wild inferno of heat.
Without any thought, I close the distance between us and have the asshole by the collar, pulling him off of her and to his feet.
My fist meets his jaw.
Twice.
He stumbles to the ground, his hands and knees on the sand.
“Fozzie,” an erratic voice says at my shoulder.
She grazes my knuckles, physically reminding my mind of their impact. My fist begins to ache. I jerk away from her.
My focus darts from the fucking prick in the sand to Evelyn, who is crying only a few feet away.
“Foster,” she mumbles.
I shake my head.
Rage speeds through every particle in my body.
My chest expands and shakily pushes out air.
My life sinks and shatters.
She comes toward me, and I step away.
“No,” I say.
Curling and uncurling my throbbing fist, I back away.
She stands in place, unmoving, except for the tears streaming down her cheeks.
NINE
Evelyn
After dinner, I said my final good night to Foster before our wedding day. Wolfgang, the ever-loving and wonderful man of honor that he is, escorted me back to my room and said he would come and get me first thing in the morning for the bridal-party breakfast. My entire day is planned with events from sunrise until I walk down the aisle—filled with eating, a massage, pedicure, hair appointment and more eating. It’s an intentional whirlwind.
Only moments after entering my room, there was a knock at the door. At first, I thought it was Wolfgang, wanting to offer a night of watching romantic comedies, but I was surprised to find Gerard, my longtime family friend, on the other side of the threshold.
He asked if I wanted to take a late-night walk along the beach, like we used to in our teens when our families vacationed together. We spoke of our memories, laughing about mishaps and reminiscing about a time of mistakes and tears. We’ve both come a long way since those days.
Not far from my room, we took a seat on a small stretch of sand to continue our conversation while watching the waves come in. He told me of his work, recounting a hilarious story about dealing with a contractor who insisted on wearing a suit with a hard hat. The visual was quite…different. And then I asked him about Caroline, his wife, and if they were planning to have a family of their own anytime soon.
“Caroline and I don’t intend on having any children,” Gerard says. “Not now or anytime in the future.”
“Oh.”
“We’re getting a divorce.”
“But…”
“She’s here for appearances only. We are going to tell our families when we get back home. Our marriage is over.” He inhales sharply. “It’s actually the reason I wanted to talk to you tonight.”
A strange sensation stirs in my belly—not one of butterflies, but of sourness and anxiety. I bite my lip and lower my chin, focusing on my knees, as he continues to speak.
“I have regrets about how I handled things with you.” He palms my cheek, and ice shoots through my veins. “I kept my distance because I thought you would refuse me, based on my family, but here you are, marrying into one that encapsulates everything you always said you hated.”
Turning to face him, I open my mouth to speak, to tell him I love Foster and that his family has nothing to do with my desires to be with him forever. Foster captured my heart with his and nothing else.
But I don’t get a chance to voice my words.
Gerard’s mouth is on mine.
This can’t be happening.
It must be a dream.
The second I realize it’s reality, Gerard releases me in a quick motion.
A multitude of emotions scatter through me at once. Disgust. Empathy. Violation. Fear.
Shakily, I lift my eyes. Foster has Gerard by the collar. He hits my longtime friend across the jaw. There’s a ferocity in Foster’s eyes that I’ve never witnessed before. Gerard stumbles slightly, and Foster connects his fist to the French man’s face again, sending him to his hands and knees.
Standing over Gerard, Foster is a solid and unmoving statue, forcing his opponent down with his glare. My heart races erratically, skipping and bounding in my chest. Every nerve in my body is shaking. My emotions are crying out with confusion and humiliation.
He saw. He had to have seen the kiss.
And it’s the night before we’re to be married.
Reaching out, I grab my fiancé’s fingers. “Fozzie.”
He jerks away from my touch. Foster’s head snaps in my direction, and he pierces me with a foreign stare. He’s beyond furious.
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, and my mouth quivers. “Foster.”
He shakes his head, declaring there is no conversation to be had.
I panic. My world is crashing down. This is my Fozzie.
Stepping forward, I lift my arm in an effort to fuse the disconnect happening between us. He takes a step backward, and everything within me comes to a torturous halt.
“No,” he says.
A waterfall of feelings streams across my cheeks, wetting my face. Foster continues to walk backward, away from me, full of evident rage and hurt, until he turns the corner and disappears out of my sight.
TEN
Evelyn
My entire being quakes and shatters internally as I stare at the empty space where Foster’s figure once was. Strands of my hair are whipped up by the ocean breeze and plant themselves on my wet cheeks.
Gerard coughs and groans behind me.
A fury is ignited within me.
Turning on my heel, I sneer down at him as he fumbles to rise from the sand. He adjusts his suit jacket and wipes the blood from the corner of his mouth. As he adjusts his jaw back and forth, it cracks a few times. He winces.
“I think I need to see a doctor,” he says, pondering the blood on his fingers.
“I think you need to leave the fucking island.”
He steps toward me. “Evelyn…”
Pushing at his chest, I shove him backward. “How could you?” I bark. My breathing rate increases. “You’re such an asshole. I thought you were my friend.”
“I am.”
“No, you aren’t. A friend would never try to ruin another person’s happiness, especially on the night before their fucking wedding.”
“I thought—”
“No, you didn’t. You didn’t think at all. You didn’t think about anything but yourself.”
“Let me explain.” He steps toward me.
I shake my head and back further away from him. “I don’t want your excuses. I want you to go.
Now
. This very second. I can’t look at you.” I wipe away the wetness from my cheeks as the anger continues to build inside me. “I mean it, Gerard.”
“Do you hate me?”
“I don’t want to see you ever again.” I seethe internally even though every particle in my body wants to lash out at him. “I will never forget this moment—ever.”
“I’m so sorry. I just wanted…I made a mistake. I’ll talk to Foster. I’ll tell him it was my fault, that it was all me. I’ll make it right for you.”
“Don’t you go near him,” I mutter, frustrated. I am so lost, all because of a split second, a blink in time. “Just go, Gerard.”
Succumbing, he lowers his head, turns his back to me, and walks away.
Without wasting another breath of energy on him, I sprint back to my room and grab my phone. Frantically, I call Foster over and over, but each time, it goes to voice mail. I send him texts, pleading with him to pick up so that we can talk, but there is no reply.
Finally fed up with him not answering my pleas, I dart out of my room and beeline to Foster’s quarters on the other side of the resort. I fleetingly think about calling Wolfgang, to have him come with me, but this is between Foster and me and no one else.
Foster might not even be in his room, but I don’t know where else to go.
In front of his door, I listen for any movement inside. There’s nothing.
Knocking lightly so as not to draw attention from neighboring guests, I call, “Fozzie?”
I wait.
I listen.
I knock again, calling out his name.
A few moments pass, and I hear movement on the other side of the door. I hold my breath and focus.
“What is it, Evelyn?” Foster asks reluctantly.
And everything in me wants to break down the door between us.
Foster
Evelyn’s relentless. She always has been, and I hate to say it, but it’s one of the things I came to love about her. However, I don’t want her stamina right now. Everything just feels…wrong, and the vision of that asshole touching and kissing her keeps playing through my head. I’m in no mood for anything, other than being alone.
“I want to talk to you,” Evelyn states. There’s a forced
togetherness
in her tone. “Can you open the door?”
“No.”
“Why not? Fozzie, I need to see you.”
“No. It’s not a good idea. I don’t…I can’t look at you right now.”
There’s a thump against the door. “I didn’t kiss him. Foster, you have to believe me. It was him, not me. He’s going through a divorce—”
“I don’t care about the reasoning,” I spit. “How could you let him get that close to you? How could you let him touch you?”
“I don’t know,” she says, her words shaky. “He’s my friend, and he said he wanted to talk. I didn’t…I didn’t know that—”
“Are you not sure?” I ask. Might as well get everything on the table.
She hasn’t really been fond of this wedding. She stated so from the beginning. It was a fight just to get her to compromise on this small ceremony. Even the tiniest hints of doubt suddenly feel like boulders.
“What are you asking me?”
“Are you not sure if you want to get married? Is that why you were alone with him and allowed him to kiss you?”
She whimpers and sniffles, obviously crying. I don’t care. I’m so beyond livid right now. If there’s
any
hesitation at all in her mind about us or tomorrow, I need to know.
“Well?” I press.
“Fozzie”—she sniffs—“how could you even ask that of me? I love you. You mean…you’re my world. You’re the other half of my whole. Don’t you know that? Of course I want to marry you. I wouldn’t have said yes otherwise. You’re my forever. You’re my Fozzie.”
My heart splinters from the raw emotions she’s evoking. This is Evelyn, the strong girl I fell for, softened and on the verge of breaking.
I press my palm to the wooden surface of the door. Even when smothered in anger, I can’t help but want to console her. She’s my forever, too.