There's a light shining on you.
And baby I'm trembling inside.

The first time I saw you, you had this glow about you. It was an inner confidence that made you the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. This aura radiated from your every pour and I was drawn to you. Perhaps, initially, it’d been the curve of your backside and the expanses of your long, delectable chocolate legs that gave my insides a lustful quake, but when you turned and smiled in my direction, the air snapped with electricity. I had rose-colored glasses on, and I had you in my sights.

You probably couldn’t have gotten away from me, even if you’d tried. I was a quiet and unassuming but persistent man and not accustomed to being denied the things I wanted, at least, as an adult. You would call me selfish but I said…well, I’d probably have said selfish as well. I hadn’t been allotted the finer things in life growing up, and what I did have, I had to fight to keep it. Being protective was in my nature.

My mother was a junkie and a prostitute from the wrong side of tracks. Luckily, by the time I was old enough to realize the Johns she brought home weren’t really my “Uncle Steve” or “Uncle Dave,” she’d gotten clean. This didn’t put her in the running for Mother of the Year but I was thankful that I didn’t remember much of my childhood before mom had gotten better. As the years passed, I’d forgiven her for it all but, unfortunately, it seemed fate hadn’t let her off so easily. When I turned 18, she was diagnosed with lung cancer due to a two decade long love affair with nicotine.

We decided moving away from the city would be our best bet and at least mom could die…live out her life in peace. For about five years, everything was peaceful and serene, as it was supposed to be, but something in me yearned to return to the hustle and bustle of the big city. Maybe it was some internalized compulsion to face those mean streets that had been my mom’s undoing.

During her final months was when we finally spoke. I knew you could feel my eyes on you every time you’d saunter into the room. The maroon scrubs you wore should have been the antithesis of a turn on, but nothing could make you look anything but sexy.

When mom gave my hand a weak squeeze, I was snapped back from my inappropriate thoughts.

I turned my head toward her ashen face. Her thin lips were quirked in a soft grin and her eyes twinkled with knowing. My whole face became heated and had probably turned a deep shade of crimson.

“How are you feeling, Ms. Edwards?” You asked, as you checked her chart quickly then moved to her IV where morphine dripped into her veins.

“Fine. I just wish that damn doctor would give me the good stuff,” my mother grumbled.

I shook my head in embarrassment.

You simply giggled. “You’ve got morphine pumping through you, woman. What more do you want?”

I think the thing I loved about you the most was your unwillingness to treat my mom as if she were something fragile. You were always honest with her. She needed someone who didn’t walk on eggshells. I couldn’t be that person for her. She was my mother, and she was dying. I wasn’t sure how to deal with that, but you took everything in stride.

“That fuckin’ quack would rather start me on a cyanide drip than give me anything that would keep me completely coherent,” Mom said as her eyes began to close slowly.

“Ma, just go to sleep,” I urged softly and caressed the back of her hand with my thumb.

“Okay, son. Because you asked me nicely.” With her eyelids heavy and a lopsided grin, she turned to you. “Noel, my boy is single, you know.”

“That may well be, Ms. Edwards, but I’m seeing someone.”

She waved you off lazily. “Bullshit, Noel. You ain’t married. There’s still a chance.”

Once she was peacefully sleeping, I thought it necessary to address you and apologize on my mom’s behalf. “I’m, uh, sorry about that. Ma can be…” I didn’t really have the words for what my mother was.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said dismissively without looking up, continuing to jot down on the clipboard.

“Still, I apologize.”

This time, she did look up. The soft smile that spread across your angular jaw made my insides melt.

“It’s really all right. I like your mom. She cracks me up.”

“She’s pretty jovial...considering.” I wasn’t sure if I were bitter or resented the fact that my mother could joke about her situation while I was a complete wreck.

Your thinned into a serious line and you gave me a sympathetic look. “Would you rather her be anything but? She’s dying. I think the best thing for her is to spend the time she has left being herself, no matter how vulgar or outrageous that may be.”

I nodded shamefully. “You’re right. I’m just…” For the first time since I’d found out about the cancer, I had to keep from letting tears cloud my vision. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I don’t know what to do to make this better.”

Quietly, you moved toward me. “You’re doing exactly what she needs. You’re here supporting her.”

You placed a comforting hand on my shoulder and I barely contained a shutter. The heat from your palm seeped through the material of my crisp white collared button down. I yearned to feel your skin on mine, so I made the irrational decision to place my hand over yours.

Months of imagining what your skin would feel like didn’t do justice to the creamy smooth texture. The comfort you offered me was more than I ever could have asked for and more than you were required to offer.

“Thank you, Noel.” I offered you a small grin.

Your smile returned and warmed me again. “You’re welcome, Matthew.”

That day was the beginning of something new for us. I knew — by just looking into your doe eyes — that I could trust you with my heart. I knew that I could tell you anything and you would cherish it like it was the most valuable of secrets.

As the months flew by, I found myself looking forward to walking through the doors of my mother’s hospital room to find you laughing freely at something she’d said. Then, as soon as I made my presence known, you’d turn that smile on me. Each time I could feel myself falling deeper.

But you weren’t free. And the day I found out was no ordinary one.

It was one of mom’s “bad days,' as I used to call them. It was a day when she was so nauseous and weak that she was barely able to move or speak without becoming sick. She didn’t have very many of those days, but when they occurred, they weren’t pretty. It should have been a sign to me that bad news was sure to follow, but again, I just chalked it up to one of those days.

“Oh, screw him, Noel.”

“Ma, stop it.” I couldn’t say I didn’t feel the same, having just seen the engagement ring sitting comfortably on your finger.

You were always so much more tolerant of her moods than I was.

“Now, Tammy. That’s not very nice. You keep talking like that and I won’t invite you to my wedding,” you joked while adjusting the setting on her IV.

After a while, the formal “Ms. Edwards” title dropped and she was simply “Tammy” to you. I know she would have been happier if you’d just conceded and called her “Mom” as she’d insisted.

“Psh. I’ll be dead and gone by that point.” Mom grumbled.

“That very well may be, but you won’t curse my fiancée’s name, Tammy.” You said pointedly. It was the first glimpse I’d caught of anything other than humor or compassion etched across your face.

I loved this side of you as well — maybe even more so than your usual happy demeanor. This was something new about you and it made it all the more exciting, even with the circumstance from which it had come.

“I’m sorry, honey,” mom sighed. “It’s just the meds talking.”

“Which is why I don’t knock you out for saying things like that.” You smiled and let it roll off your back.

You were so amazing.

That lucky bastard didn’t deserve you.

His name began with an “E”, I believe. I never could remember because the very thought of actually invoking his name made him tangible, even though I’d never met him. You told me he worked in the city, as I did. He was some kind of credit analyst, so we probably ran in the same circles. I was a technical report writer, and a damn good one at that. I could explain the most complex of financial reports in layman’s terms. I was highly sought after in the financial profession, having been offered jobs around the world.  We’d probably passed each other in the city or seen one another in a meeting a thousand times and had no idea we were in love with the same woman.

The problem was you had no idea I was in love with you either. I think you were the only one. Mom could see it clear as day, even though we never discussed it. She always had this grin on her face when she caught me looking at you. For a while, she was our only connection and I was afraid that once she was gone, you and I would never see each other again.

The day my mother was laid to rest was another milestone for us.

Your heart has been broken
But I could still see true love shine in your eyes

I was so lost in my own grief that it barely registered when your hand landed on my forearm. As I watched them lower the casket into the ground, I realized that comfort was no longer my lover. A deep seeded despair had taken residence in my heart, so much so, that even the warmth of your hand couldn't pull me back.

"Matt?"

I turned my head and looked down into your beautiful hazel eyes. My icy blues held resentment for you because even though you hurt, you didn't hurt as I did. You weren't feeling what I was feeling and for the first time — since I'd found out about the cancer — I felt truly alone. I looked away. Your eyes were always my downfall.

"Matthew?"

"What?" I said more forcefully than I had intended. Out of my periphery, I saw you flinch and I hated myself for scaring you.

"We will get through this," you soothed.

Contempt for the word "we" had me pulling away from your touch. You didn't know what it was like to lose an integral part of yourself. She wasn't your mother. You didn't understand how I was feeling. You couldn't.

I didn't want you to.

"It's my grief, Noel. Not yours."

Your head snapped up and fire burned in your eyes. Behind the anger, I knew I'd hurt you. I didn't thrill me to do so, but it made me feel empowered to know that a few little words could affect you. 

"I cared for her too, damn it. Don't push me away like this." Your watery plea broke through some of the ice that had begun to form around me. I couldn't intentionally hurt you and not hurt myself indirectly. 

"Hey, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." I pulled you close and murmured into your silky ebony curls. "I know you cared."

"I did...do." She stepped back and with her eyes glistening with tears, cupped my face with both hands. "And I care about you, too."

I sighed. Caring was a whole hell of a lot different than love.

"What?" You caught the undertone of that sigh.

I was sick of keeping these feelings to myself. I needed you to know how deeply you affected me.

I shook my head. "Just..." I leaned down and wrapped my arms around your waist and pulled you into another embrace. I poured my soul into this one. I hoped to transfer some of these emotions to you. You tensed at first but eventually you let me hold you. When you relaxed, I took a moment to bury my nose in your hair. You always smelled of something flowery. A field of sunflowers came to mind whenever you were close enough for me to catch your scent.

"Matthew?"

I heard your hesitation but I continued to hold you.

"Noel." I breathed deeply, mesmerizing the feel of you, how you molded perfectly to my body.

It was a perfect moment, regardless of the circumstances. Mom was somewhere smiling down upon us, I was sure of it.

"Noel!"

We both turned sharply and watched a figure stalk across the burial ground toward us. I began to step in front of you but you stepped around me to greet the intruder.

"Evan? W-what are you doing here?"

"Why didn't you tell me you were going to a funeral today?"

"Because, it was personal."

I could hear the annoyance in your voice. You didn't want him to know about today and I delighted in the fact that you kept him out of it. To know that you thought of what my mother might have wanted meant more to me than you could have ever known. I was sure she was probably looking down from heaven cursing the guy's name.

"I'm your fiancé, Noel." He had a vice grip on your shoulders. "You shouldn't have kept this from me."

I watched the exchange between the two of you. This was the guy you were going to marry? I could have rolled my eyes at his stuffy demeanor. His dark wool pea coat kept out the November chill and fell just above his knees. He was tall in stature, with broad shoulders, an angular jaw and dark skin. He was probably what you might have called the epitome of a Black Adonis but I was happy to continue to refer to him as "the bastard who didn't deserve you."

I was also relieved to find that I'd never seen him before in my life. Having discovered that I'd seen your fiancée in passing would have surely killed me.

"You shouldn't have come," you said, and I could barely contain a snort.

Good luck telling a guy like that that he shouldn't have done anything. I could smell his type from a mile away — controlling, egomaniacal, and the kind of guy who thought the world was the supposed to fall at his feet.

"I'm sorry, baby. I just thought you could have used a shoulder to cry on."

I rolled my eyes at that remark and looked down into the hollow pit that held my mother's casket. I hoped she wasn't rolling in her grave listening to all of this.

"Evan, I'm fine. I think you should go."

"Noel, you're being rude," he chastised and turned to me. "Hello, I'm Evan Phelps. My deepest sympathies."

I kept my back to him. The guy was unbelievable. He couldn't know how much will power it took to keep from grabbing him by the lapels and tossing him into the pile of dirt set to be placed atop of mom's grave.

With a solemn expression, I turned to see his hand outstretched. I took it quickly and held his gaze.

"Matt Edwards. And thank you."

Mom was definitely turning in her grave. 

"Evan." Your voice was cold and disconnected. I didn't like how it sounded when he was around. "Can you please give me and Matthew a moment...alone?"

Without much protest, he began to back away, eyeing us. I wasn't sure if he'd caught what passed between the two of us but I couldn't really say I cared. Once his retreating back was a safe distance away, I turned back to you.

"Why didn't you tell him?"

"It wasn't his business," you said with conviction.

I smirked and shoved my hands into my jacket pockets to keep from reaching for the strains of hair that danced around your face.

"When's the wedding?"

I knew on what day the wedding fell. I'd received your invitation last week. It gone from a crisp piece of stationary with scrolling cursive over it to a crumpled ball in the corner of my room. I may not have wanted to recollect the day, but I knew it.

You opened your mouth to answer and shut it just as quickly. "That's not important right now."

"What is?" I watched you inquisitively.

You stepped closer and reached into my pocket, retrieving my hand. You intertwined our fingers and searched my eyes. "This is." You leaned into my side and stood with me before my mother's open grave.

As much as I wanted to push you away, my heart just wouldn't allow it. I must have been a masochist. It broke my heart to know that I couldn't have you but I just kept pushing forward, hoping maybe, you'd see the light. I knew that loving you was a mistake, especially with your wedding looming overhead.

And what hurt even more was that you let me continue to make a fool of myself.

The day before your wedding was the culmination of everything I'd felt, flooding to the surface. My mother had been buried a month to the day, and the emptiness of not having her around was eating me from the inside out. I would have taken up smoking just to rid myself of the jitters in my stomach, but luckily, you asked me over to your apartment. I could here the desperation in your voice, even though you tried to conceal it.

I'd just gotten through the door after a grueling 12-hour day at the office. Nothing had gone right and I was looking forward to putting my feet up and relaxing while I got as drunk as possible before I passed out. The thought of sprawling out across my bed had me sighing in pleasure but you were having none of that. My phone vibrated in my jacket pocket and some how, I knew it was you.

"Are you alright?" I asked and pulled my necktie loose.

"Of course. I just...I just need to see a familiar face." You tried a weak laugh but I wasn't buying it.

"Noel, it's the night before your wedding. Shouldn't you be with your family?"

Your parents didn't much approve of you associating yourself with me or inviting me to the wedding. They could obviously see how I felt about their daughter every time I watched you. I'd come to discover that your family was more than well off, with your father having been a financial investor in the early 90s. People had most likely called him a senseless wit, but he'd taken a leap of faith and it'd paid off in the end.

"Matthew, please. Just come over and talk with me?"

I sighed and rubbed the underside of my chin. "Just let me change and I'll be over in 20 minutes."

I wasn't sure if agreeing to meet you was a leap of faith as much as a long fall off a high cliff. Many would call me a fool for acquiescing but I had to trust in my gut.

So, I agreed to meet you. 

I beg your forgiveness
And I'll do whatever it takes

I don’t know why I’d called you. It was the night before my wedding and I was in my apartment alone, with nothing but my thoughts. I was too analytical for my own good, my mother used to say. Thinking too hard usually got me into trouble. After having thought way too long about it, I picked up the phone. Something in me was compelled to call just to hear your voice, but when you spoke, the overwhelming desire to see your face became unbearable.

I took a deep breath and slid both hands down the front of my dress; my wedding dress. I was scared half to death staring at my reflection. The Vera Wang strapless, silk bodice should have been perfect. It was perfect. It fit like a glove and accented my shape beautifully, but something didn’t feel right.

As I continued to stare in the mirror, a ball of nausea became lodged in my throat. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to push down the ominous dread that settled at the pit of my stomach. I should have been excited to put on my wedding dress and know that in a few hours I was going to marry the man I loved. Up until 6 months ago, I was excited to be getting married even though I wasn’t exactly thrilled with the pick of husband. I’d known Evan since I was a child, and I couldn’t say I particurally cared for him back then either. Our parents had written it in the stars that we were destined to be together, though we both had differing views of how married life was supposed to go. Regardless, the planning portion had me so busy, I barely saw him and I wasn’t complaining.  I was the epitome of a blushing bride. I had no idea how my life would have changed, the moment I set foot into that hospital room.

Behind my closed lids I could see, your mother, Tammy’s face; the alabaster skin and bright blue eyes that were trying to stay strong but were slowly waning. I’d been the nurse assigned to her room by chance. The day we met, nothing had gone right. I’d been banished to the clinic where I was sure I’d be wasting my time with stitches, flu symptoms and hypochondriacs. I was sure I’d die of boredom that day.

“Kid, you better get the hell outta my face. I won’t be poked and prodded by a pre-schooler,” Tammy shouted from behind a curtain.

Your mom always was a character. I loved that about her. I had no idea that I’d become accustomed to that tone of voice and come to love the woman in which it belonged.

“Ma’am, if you don’t let me check your temperature I can’t—” I recognized Kyle Hamilton’s voice. The kid had only just graduated nursing school 3 months ago. He wasn’t as seasoned as I was, having been an RN for 2 years. He wasn’t used to dealing with people like Tammy, but I knew how to handle uncooperative patients.

“Why don’t you shove that thing up your ass and take your own temperature?” I could just hear the glare of her eyes, tearing apart the poor guy.

I barely contained a laugh as I pictured poor, fresh-faced Hamilton trying to take the disgruntled woman’s temperature.

I pulled the curtain back and watched both patrons turn toward me and just as I thought, poor Hamilton stood stunned with a ditigal thermometer in hand and uncertainty in his eyes. He visibly relaxed when he spotted me.

“What’s going on?”

“Thank, God. Someone I can trust,” Tammy sighed in relief. “Since when did this hospital start employing infants?”

“I think Dr. Stratton needs your assistance,” I winked at Hamilton as he handed me the chart and quickly scurried away. “Now, Miss…?”

“Edwards,” she coughed, trying to catch her breath. “Tammy Edwards.”

“Ms. Edwards, I’m Noel Faulkner. What brings you to us today?”

My brows frowned as she continued to wheeze and cough, trying to answer. Her face contorted in pain with each violent lurch of her body. She brought both hands to her mouth to gain some semblance of control. When Tammy’s hacking finally calmed, and she was sure she was in control once again; she pulled her hands from her face. Relief was short-lived for both of us, as we noticed bright blood coating her palms.

I immediately called in a doctor who ordered x-rays, but there was no mistaking the cause of your mom’s symptoms. Oncology wasn’t my particular trade but having lost an uncle to cancer, I’d seen the affects it’d taken on my own family. Maybe, perhaps, that was why I’d outright declined Tammy’s request to keep this from you. You deserved to know how bad it’d gotten. You deserved to be there for her from beginning to end.

“Ms. Edwards, You need to inform your family of your worsening condition.”

“My son already knows of my condition,” she said curtly. “I’ve been living with it for some time now.”

“But he doesn’t know how much it’s progressed,” I spoke idly as I concentrated on finding a vein in her arm.

“I put him through damn near enough for a lifetime. I won’t have him watch his mother die of goddamn cancer. I won’t.”

I sighed and continued to take her blood. Tammy’d been coming back for the past month to learn about the type of treatment that was available to her. I tried convincing her to speak to you about it but you knew your mother better than anyone. She was as stubborn as a mule.

“So, you’re just going to die alone in a horribly light, iridescent, sterile hospital room?” I raised an eyebrow as I extracted the needle from her arm.

I’d learned over the past couple of years that some patients required the truth. Coddling them wouldn’t help their situation. Tough love was the only medicine. And I knew with Tammy that would be the only way I’d get through to her.

“Noel, you just don’t understand,” she said meekly. I could tell your mother was neither a weak woman nor was she easily spooked, but subjecting you to the realization of her untimely death terrified her.

“The hell I don’t,” I shook my head and placed a cotton ball over the spot where I’d just injected the needle. “I understand that you’re trying to protect him but you’re also being extremely selfish not telling your son where you’ve been running off to for the past month.”

I was overstepping my bounds as a professional but it wasn’t fair to you. I didn’t even know you at the time but I knew that you didn’t deserve to be kept in the dark. After a day of convincing her, she’d broken down and called you. You’d dropped whatever you had planned that day and rushed right over to be by her side.

I waited in the hallway to meet you when you arrived. You stepped off the elevator and I knew who you were immediately. You asked a passing nurse for the appropriate room and when she pointed in my direction, I straightened. As you moved closer, your features became better visible. Your blue eyes were wide with concern but were definitely your mother’s. There was no mistaking it. There was a vulnerability about you that I’d never seen in a man before and I was drawn to it immediately.

“Is Tamera Edwards in there?” You asked, out of breath.

“Yes, I—”

You never let me finish because the next thing I knew, you were rushing in to confront Tammy. I listened from the hallway as you tore into her for not telling you sooner about the decline of her health. I could hear in your voice how much it killed you to not be able to help her and see the signs that she needed help. I was surprised to hear the anger in your voice, because you didn’t look like the kind of guy to ever lose his cool.

Other than that initial meeting, we rarely spoke but I’d take every opportunity to watch you when you weren’t looking. I began to notice things about your face, which I otherwise wouldn’t have if I hadn’t studied you. You had dimples embedded deeply into both cheeks that I discovered one sunny day in September when you grinned at me. And, I never told you this, but I fell in love with the small mole under your right eye. A beauty mark was never so true to its name.

There were also little things about your personality that made me want to know you better. You were so gentle and patient with your mother. You never let her bad days get the better of you, even though she rarely had them. It wasn’t until the very end did I begin to see the threads of your control unraveling.

“Mom, you can’t fall asleep just yet. You’re scheduled for kemo in a few minutes.” You caressed her hand gently as you sat next to her bedside.

“Yeah, Tammy. You’re not checking out on us are you?” I chuckled as I inspected her IV but when I looked at her graying complexion, my smile fell. “Tammy? Tammy, stay awake for me.”

With one shallow breath, she told you she loved you and let her eyes close.

“Mom? C’mon, mom, stay with me.” You shook her shoulder as she slipped into unconsciousness. “Noel, something is wrong.”

I rushed to her side and checked her vitals, which were weak. I knew she was in trouble. I had the doctor on her case paged and immediately pushed you out of the room. Even as I assisted the physicians, I watched you through the window, pacing outside. Your hands were linked and resting on the back of your neck. I tried to convey my sympathies through my eyes but you turned away as they began to use the defibrillator on her chest.

Once she was stable, I went outside to check on you. You’d planted yourself on the floor next to the door. I could see defeat in the way your body slumped forward and your head hung. There was a knowing there that didn’t require my confirmation.

You knew what I was going to say.

“How long?” You asked without meeting my eyes.

“She’s not going to wake up, Matt.”

Your chin rested on your chest and I could see the quiver of your lips. I slid down next to you and mimicked your posture. The hallway was crowded with passersby but I paid no attention to the commotion around us. When I heard you sniffle, I rested a hand on your shoulder. The comfort I offered only managed to bring about more tears.

I’d never seen you come undone before and I’d never wanted so badly to take away your pain. I would have taken your grief and made it my own, if it were possible. But It wasn’t my place or within my power. The only thing I could offer you was a shoulder to cry on, and you gladly accepted.

You’d needed me then, but I’d never felt like it was enough. I opened my eyes and wasn’t surprised that tears clouded my vision. I sniffled and took one last fleeting look at myself in the full length mirror. This was the worst thing that could have happened. Loving you wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan. I turned my head when a knock sounded at my front door. I quickly swiped at the tears rolling down my cheeks and called out for you to come in.

“I’ll be out in a second, just…just give me a minute,” I grunted and tugged at the zipper of my dress that didn’t seem to want to budge.

“Are you alright?” You called out to me. Your voice was coming closer and I began to panic, pulling as hard as I could to release myself from the confines of my dress.

“Yeah! I’m fine!” I twisted and struggled. “I’m just…ah!”

“Noel?” You asked cautiously from behind my closed door. “Noel, are you sure you’re okay?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose in humiliation. I was stuck in the damned thing.

“Yes, Matt. Y-you can come in.” I sighed in defeat. “I need your help anyway.”

When the door creaked open, I kept my back to you. I was too ashamed to turn and face you. I didn’t want you to see me this way. I knew I shouldn’t have called you, but I was weak.

I was weak for you.

With my back turned, I could hear the hesitation in your footsteps. Your eyes were burning a hole in the back of my head. Having had enough of your silent scrutiny, I finall turned. Your hand was still on the knob as you stood in the open doorway, blinking. I squirmed uncomfortably under your gaze and tried to chuckle to lighten the mood.

“Can you believe it? I’m stuck in my wedding dress. How ridiculous am I?” I tugged at the zipper again, knowing it wouldn’t help. “A little help?”

I turned to face the mirror and watched your reflection move closer. You touched my shoulder; the skin goose-bumped. The contrast in our complexion never ceased to amaze me. Wordlessly, you took hold of the uncooperative zipper and slowly tugged it down. I felt your breath at the nape of my neck and the hand on my shoulder tightened as your other hand deceased lower.

“You’re beautiful,” you said in a low tone.

I bit my lip and tried to keep from fidgeting. It was a completely nervous habit you brought out of me.

“Thank you,” I breathed and stepped away from you. Your hand lingered on my shoulder and left a tingling sensation in its wake.

I turned to meet your eyes and was surprised to see that your orbs were clear and calm. I expected them to be clouded with emotion but there was almost a faint smile on your face.

“Why the look?”

“What look?” Your grin widened and your dimples winked at me.

“That look,” I gestured with one hand and tried to keep my dress up with the other. “The grin spreading across your face.”

I wasn’t quite sure why that look was making me so annoyed. You weren’t a smug guy but the look you were giving me was very smug indeed.

You shrugged. “Isn’t it bad luck to see the bride in her dress?”

“In the case of the groom, yes.” I rolled my eyes and turned back toward the mirror, playing with a possible up-do I’d been considering for the day of.

“What about in the case of the guy who’d like to be the groom?”

My breath caught as my eyes snapped up to meet yours. My movements stilled as our eyes held. I barely breathed as your hands moved over the outline of my bare shoulders but didn’t come in contact with my skin. I could feel the heat radiating from your palms even though we never touched.

I tried to contain a shutter as you lowered your head to become level with my ear. “I want to touch you Noel, but I’m afraid of what I’d do,” you whispered.

I closed my eyes, savoring the feel of your moist lips at the shell of my ear. I wanted you to touch me. God, help me. I wanted you to touch me so badly.

“I’m not afraid, Matthew.” I said so quietly, I wasn’t sure you’d heard me. “Touch me.” I reached for your hand and intertwined our fingers, as I’d done many times before.

But this time felt different.

Without much thought, I released the fabric of my dress and let it pool at my feet. I turned to face you and never let go of your hand. I stood on my tip-toes and kissed the underside of your jaw and heard your quick intake of breath.

“I shouldn’t have come here.” Your voice was raw and husky. “This is wrong.”

I kissed your cheek, then corner of your mouth. “Does it feel wrong?”

I’d never claimed to be a seductress and I’d never intended for this, but I wasn’t going to stop it. It didn’t feel wrong when you touched me. It didn’t feel wrong when you finally touched your lips with mine. And it wasn’t wrong when you made love to me.

It was wrong what I did to you the following morning.

I was a fool to ever let you down
I want you to stay

I was the obedient and reliable one, out of my two older sisters. Camille was the oldest and rebellious type, having pretty much defied all of my parent’s expectations to become a singer. She’d been touring the country for the past year with her rocker husband. They seemed happy, and I was happy for them. My second oldest sister, Yolanda, had tried to make up for Camille and got married young, only to discover that she was a lesbian. She and her girlfriend were going on 3 years, much to the shock and disgust of my parents. So, it was no wonder that, when I came along, my parents had pretty high expectations for me. I had lived up to all of their hopes and dreams and had become the only person in the family to join the medical profession. The icing on the cake for them was a marriage to a wealthy, successful, young tycoon.

Enter Evan Phelps.

I couldn’t say I was in love with Evan, far from it but he was around when I needed him. He was a reliable guy (as I was the reliable girl), albeit, vapid and self absorbed at times. Being that we were two reliable people, it only seemed right that we’d end up together.

My parents were happy (more like ecstatic), my sisters weren’t feeling the pressure now that all attention was focused on my wedding and I was fairly content with the direction my life was headed. Everyone seemed gung-ho about the whole thing. Nothing could have gone wrong, and then you derailed everything.

On the day of my dress fitting, you and I’d had a deep conversation about where we saw ourselves in the next year or two. I did most of the talking; as I could tell you didn’t want to discuss life without your mom. We both knew that she wouldn’t last longer than a few weeks at that point.

“I’d love to have kids in the next few years,” I said as I escorted you to the cafeteria.

You nodded and grinned. “Names?”

“I’m not sure what I’d name them.”

“What do you mean?” You gave me the craziest look, as if you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “Every woman, since the beginning of time, has thought about how many kids they’d have, what they’d be named, and what their profession would be. Who are you, and why haven’t you thought this through?”

I rolled my eyes. “Excuse me for breaking the mold.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” you chuckled. “It’s just a little odd that you say you want kids but haven’t really thought about what kind of people you’d want them to be.”

I honestly didn’t have a response for that. I had wanted kids but I hadn’t considered who their father would be because I just didn’t see myself with Evan long term. I could openly admit that I was marrying him out of obligation to my parents. It made my family happy and up until a few weeks ago, I was alright with that—even if for a year or two of marriage.

I was the reliable daughter, remember?

“Well, Mister Know-It-All, what kind of people do you think my kids would be?” I asked, half expecting you to wave the question away but intrigued by the potential answer.

“If you had children, I think they’d be strong-willed and stubborn, just like you.”

I stopped and glared at you, seemingly unamused by your assessment. “Hey! That’s not—”

“Wait, I’m not finished.” You held up a hand. “They’d also be extremely kind and well-mannered because I know you wouldn’t stand for disrespect. They’d be passionate about whatever career field they went into because you’d demand nothing but the best. However, you’d tell them that they should follow their hearts and do something they loved, even though you’d probably drop hints about medical or nursing school at every turn. And, of course they’d be the most beautiful children on the face of the earth. So, you’d have to have only boys. You’d just have too much trouble reigning in a daughter who looked anything like you.”

I blinked as you spoke idly and continued to go about grabbing a tray and filling it with assorted foods. I stood completely dumbfounded. How someone I’d barely known could see so vividly, children who didn’t yet exist, both shocked and thrilled me. The image of two boys with sweeping dark hair, light caramel skin and intense eyes like yours had my heart rate accelerating.

After my shift, I headed straight for the dress shop but our conversation was the only thing my mind could focus on. I was simply going through the motions as I tried on one dress after another. I brought my mother and two sisters with me, even though they’re opinions of style all greatly differed. Being fussed over had always annoyed me, even as a child. I was a simple woman who enjoyed the simple things in life. Though. I could afford the finer things, I opted for modesty.

“My, don’t you look a sight.” Grace, my mother, sighed and smoothed out my train. She squeezed my shoulders and stood behind, watching our reflections in the full-length mirror.

“Noel, you’re looking good girl,” Camille nodded.

Yolanda smiled and agreed. “Bride suits you for sure.”

I smoothed my hands over the front and took in my reflection.

It did suit me.

But I had an ache in my gut and it only seemed to get worse as the weeks wore on, as my wedding day came closer and as we became closer. I shouldn’t have let myself become so invested in Tammy’s case, or in your feelings. I knew I’d let myself care about you; fall in love with you even. But I never truly saw you in Evan’s place until the day of my wedding.

I watched you sleep so peacefully, with the sunlight filtering in through my large adjacent window. A golden halo was cast over your sleeping form and the lovely upward curve of your lips in sleep brought tears to my eyes. You looked completely content and I knew that expression could only have come from the night we’d spent together. It made me sick to my stomach to have to wake you from your dreams, but reality was calling and I had a wedding to attend.

“Matthew?” I called your name softly, to help stir you.

You mumbled incoherently and reached for me, but I moved from your grasp. Your eyes opened involuntarily when you realized I was lying next to you.

Your beautiful blue orbs were clouded with sleep and confusion as you tried to focus on me standing above you. Your slow grin was one of the sexiest things I’d ever seen and I hated myself for having to wipe it clean off your face with my next words.

“Matthew, you have to go.”

You blinked once, twice and a third time before my words sunk in. You sat up slowly, with your piercing gaze fixed solely on me.

“What?” You voice was husky with sleep but full of hurt.

I closed my eyes to gain composure. I needed every ounce of strength within me to do what I was about to do.

“I…I’m getting married today.”

You snorted, but nothing about this situation was humorous. Your expression wasn’t one of amusement. In fact, you looked ready to put a hole right through the wall. I’d never been afraid of you but at that moment, fear crept up my spine.

“You’re kidding. You’re not getting married today.” You shook your head and threw your legs over the side of the mattress.

I took a step back to put distance between us. I had to do this for you. I wasn’t good enough for you, no matter what anyone else thought. I was a selfish woman who’d played with your emotions, knowing full well who I’d eventually choose. I was going to hell for this.

“Yes—”

“No, you’re not.” Your voice rose and I took another step back. I sucked in a breath to retain some sense of self. I tried to muster up the cold civility years of being raised in boarding schools, and etiquette classes had afforded me. I could put on a chilly demeanor if it meant I could spare you another moment of pain.

What a conundrum; I had to hurt you to keep you from getting hurt.

“Matthew—”

“Noel, cut the bullshit. You don’t have to pretend with me. You don’t have to hide behind your sense of duty to your family or the fact that you can’t face the harsh realities of life.”

My head whipped back, as if you’d physically slapped me. “I’m not hiding behind anything. I’m getting married today and what happened last night was…it was…”

I lost my voice when you stood from the bed, discarding of the sheet that covered your body. You stalked toward me, like a hunter in pursuit of its prey. The closed door hit my back, caging me between its hard confines and the heat of your body.

“Don’t you dare tell me what happened last night was a mistake.” You said lowly and searched my eyes. “I swear Noel, if you even allude to that, I’m going to that church and announcing to everyone what happened between us.”

My eyes widened. “You’re threatening me? Is this some kind of ultimatum? Be with you or you’ll ruin my life?”

“You’re life is with me!” You shouted and I jerked. “Damn it, Noel. You’re life is with me.”

All I could do was close my eyes and shake my head.

“Why can’t you see that? Stop thinking of your mother’s happiness. Stop thinking of what your father’s share holders will think. Stop thinking of what Evan will say about you to your parent’s country club members. Think of you. What do you want?”

“I want…” You secured my chin between your thumb and forefinger when my eyes darted away. I focused on my rumpled bed, where we’d made love moments before. I focused on the mirror that now held the reflection of your lean backside.

I took a deep breath and focused on a spot on the wall over your shoulder; a blank, empty spot that held no emotional tie to us. That was the only way I could break both our hearts and stay standing.

“I-I want…you to go.” The words rushed out quickly, in one jumbled mess of incoherency that even I barely understood. I continued to avert my eyes until I felt you step away.

I watched you move silently over the bed, picking up your discarded shirt and shimming angrily into your jeans. I wanted to go to you then. I wanted to retract what I’d said and smooth things over but when I moved toward you, you held up a hand.

“Don’t.” Your voice was rough with emotion. I’d heard the same tone the day of your mother’s funeral.

“Matthew, just let me—” I followed you out of the bedroom and tried to stay in step behind you before you reached the front door.

“You’ve done enough.” You deadpanned and never slowed your pace.

When you stopped to open the front door, I laid a hand on your shoulder. “But if you let me explain—”

My words were cut off by a resounding kick to my closed door. I didn’t jump this time because I’d been expecting you to do something of the sort.

“I don’t need you to explain a damn thing!” You whipped around to face me. “You’re marrying some pompous ass prick because your parents approve and it’ll make daddy dearest the envy of Wall Street. Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? Do you understand that once I walk out that door, I’m not coming back? I love you, Noel. I’m in love with you and I know you love me too. But you’re willing to pass up something great to appease some Brady Bunch fantasy in your head of bringing everyone together by marrying a man you don’t love? It’s a weak move, Noel. You’re better than this.”

“I’m not weak,” I said meekly but knew you were right.

“Prove it.”

I stood awkwardly, unmoved, tracing patterns in your chest with my eyes. As I began to open my mouth to speak, you covered your lips with mine. The move was slow and unrushed, but it still stole my breath. I stood on my toes to pull you closer but you secured hold of my hips and pushed me back.

“Good bye, Noel.” I never heard you sound so defeated. Every single space of my heart reserved only for you began to crack and crumble into a million pieces.

I wanted to call you back, but I watched you quietly open the door and disappear behind it. Once the door closed, I stared at it as if willing you back. I was sure it would open and you would poke your head back in but it remained closed. It wasn’t until a minute later that the realization of what I’d done hit me.

My body wretched with a sob and I threw my hand over my mouth to muffle the heart wrenching sound.

For the rest of the day, I was a walking zombie. My mother arrived unannounced 15 minutes later to help me get ready for the day’s events. Whether she saw the blank stare of conformity on my face or not, she went about being the dotting Mother of the Bride. In my mind, she chose to ignore my deep abiding hurt and pretended as if all her dreams were coming to fruition through me.

We arrived at the church on time and I was ushered to the pastor’s office, which had been converted to a changing room. My sisters (who were also my bride’s maids) fixed my hair and helped me into my dress. I remained silent as they poked, propped, curled and crimped. It wasn’t until they both stopped talking did they noticed I hadn't said a word all day.

“Noel…are you okay? You look out of it.” Camille cupped my cheeks with both hands and searched my eyes.

“It’s just nerves. She’s fine.” Yolanda waved the subject away. “I was the same way when I got married the first time. Girl, I was not looking forward to the wedding night when we’d have to—”

“Landa, shut up for a minute. Look at her. It’s more than nerves. Something’s seriously wrong.”

Camille swept a hand in front of my face, willing me back to reality but all I saw was the defeat in your eyes. My mind continued to replay that single moment when I lost you.

The door burst open behind us and my mother clapped her hands gleefully. “You all look so beautiful! Just the way it was supposed to be…my girls.”

“Mom, something’s wrong. Look at Noel? She’s completely out of it.” Camille gestured toward my face where a blank expression lay.

“It’s just pre-wedding jitters. Now, you all take your places! The ceremony is about to start.” She ushered my sisters out and held the door open, examining my back. “Take a deep breath, dear. You’re a beautiful bride. You and Evan are going to be so happy together.”

Somehow, that seemed to snap me from my trance. I turned to her smiling face and shook my head.

“No.”

This perplexed her and she stepped fully into the room. “What do you mean no?” her voice was hushed, as if she didn’t want anyone else to witness this private conversation.

“I mean, that we won’t be happy,” I said as I stood and dropped my bouquet to the floor, not caring that a few petals had broken off on impact.

“Of course you will,” she placed a soothing hand on my shoulder but her smile waned.

“No mom. I won’t, but I’m sure as hell going to be.” I made a move to step around her but she blocked my path, this time she didn’t try to mask the distress on her face.

“Noel, now stop this nonsense and come on. You’re getting married—”

“I’m not getting married today. I can’t marry Evan.”

She gasped and shut the door to keep any bystanders from eavesdropping. “Now, you listen to me, little girl. You are getting married today. All of those people came here to see you and Evan vow your love—”

“I don’t love Evan, mother! You love him. Dad loves him. Your high society friends love him, but I don’t! I love…I love Matthew.”

A sense of relief washed over me with the utterance of your name.

It took her a minute to recollect the name and put it with a face and when she did, there was fire in her eyes. “That boy from the hospital? My God, Noel, this is completely unacceptable! How could you do this to me? How could you embarrass our family this way? It’s not bad enough that your sisters were a disappointment but now you too? Oh, God, I think…I think I feel faint.” She laid a hand on her forehead and began to sway.

I rolled my eyes. She always took the dramatics to a new level.

“Mom, stop it,” I sighed. “I love you but I can’t marry Evan. I’ll go out and tell everyone myself.” I kissed her cheek and moved her aside to reach for the doorknob.

How I could have let you walk out this morning, I’ll never know. But somewhere between my apartment and the church, I’d grown a backbone. This was my life and I was going to live it however and with whomever I chose.

“Need me to drive?” I looked to my left where my sisters stood with grins plastered across their faces.

“Welcome to the DDC, sister dear.” Yolanda hugged me.

“DDC?” I asked when she pulled away.

“The Disappointing Daughters Club.”

I snorted and wiped at a stray tear that trailed down my cheek. “I’d appreciate if you’d drive, but first, I have to go out there and—” I stopped short when I caught a movement out of my peripheral.

I knew your stature from anywhere and had become acquainted with every inch of you, so much so that the sight of your back stole my breath.

“Matthew,” I said under my breath and began to make my way in your direction. You were making your way out of the church and I wondered what in God’s name you were even doing here.

“Matthew!” I shouted as I made my way outside, where the sun was absolutely blinding. I picked up the front of my dress and began to jog down the front steps of the chapel, still calling out to you. “Matthew! Matthew, wait!”

It wasn’t until the second time did you turn and look at me. Those piercing blue eyes held an ounce of surprise and wonder, as we stood in the middle of the street taking each other in. Car horns blared around us, but I didn’t hear any of it. You were all there was—all I ever wanted there to be.

“Noel, what are you…?”

“I love you.”

You blinked several times before you opened your mouth to speak but I held up a hand to stop you.

“Just let me say this before I lose my nerve. You were right. I was weak. I thought I had an obligation to my family’s happiness. You were right about that too. Evan was the golden ticket for everyone. He was everything my parents wanted in a son; a son they could be proud to say was a part of their family. It was pretty much a step up from an arranged marriage and I would have been content with that. I was content with that, until you. You and Tammy came into my life and you turned it upside down. Now, I’m not okay with mere contentment. I want to be happy and you make me happy. And I love you.”

I took a deep breath and watched you absorb my words. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d turned around, gotten into your car and driven away. I’d put you through a lot but I hoped with every fiber of my being that you would say something, anything.

“All you had to do was ask me to stay.”

I gave a watery laugh and wrapped my arms around your shoulders. “Stay?” I whispered in your ear.

“Always.”