Chapter Twelve
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She looked amazing, as much as he hated to admit it. Her hair was in loose curls, cascading in long extensions down her back, her dress white, of course, a tube top cut with a huge skirt that was gathered in spots with real diamond clasps. Diamonds worth of the British Monarch were wrapped around her neck, but unlike any other day, she had not a single ring on either of her hands. Simon knew she wanted that one special ring, the one she would wear for the rest of her life, to not have to fight for attention with other jewelry. He had seen the ring, it was nothing in comparison to the one he himself had once given her, but that was in the past, like a distant black and white memory that neither of them ever talked about.
Simon could hardly breathe as he saw her across the room, adjusting her veil in the mirror. She seemed to think it wasn’t sitting just right, he could only smile as she scrunched up her nose trying to get the flimsy fabric to sit perfectly. He stood behind her, taking in the site, until she saw him in the mirror, watching her, and she slowly turned around.
“Simon… you came.” As if standing there wasn’t proof enough, she said it. She was always one for stating the obvious.
As he looked at her he wanted to speak, he wanted to tell her so many things, beautifully practiced words that he has spent all morning in front of the mirror practicing for her. He really did, but as he looked at this woman, his stomach in knots, twisting, hurting, he couldn’t find his voice. Every well crafted word slipped from his mind, as her eyes looked searchingly into his. She was waiting, he thought, somehow, someway he just had to find his voice.
“You look beautiful, Paula.”
There. He did it.
“Oh, really?” She questioned turning back to the mirror. “I don’t know, this whole big wedding thing doesn’t seem right… you shouldn’t get to do the big one after you’ve already had one, let alone two.”
Simon chuckled. The conversation was so awkward, he wasn’t sure why he was there, or what he was suppose to say. He had gotten out of his car and barely had time to straighten his jacket when Paula’s assistant scaled the lobby and meant him at the door saying Paula had to see him be for the ceremony. Now that he was standing in her hotel suite as her beau waited downstairs he couldn’t understand Paula’s logic, even though he normally did. Why had she called him there? Was she about to confess some deep dark secret? No, she wasn’t, because they didn’t have secrets from each other, just from the rest of the world.
“I really didn’t think you would come.” Her voice was soft, nerves ever so present.
Simon had never known her to be nervous. This is the woman who could brave the world no matter what, even if she didn’t want to, she would. Why was she nervous today?
“How could you think I would miss this spectacle you’ve paid good money for?” He joked.
She smiled at him through the mirror. She adjusted her veil, not able to get it to sit just the way she wanted to. Again her face was all scrunched, her nose wrinkled. Simon walked up behind her and straightened it for her. They stood there look at each other in the mirror, sadness in their eyes. They both felt as if they had failed, though they both knew that there was nothing to be done now. Choices were made, plans set, people involved. It was too late for them now.
“Honestly, I wouldn’t miss this for the world darling.” He whispered.
Paula turned around before he could move and kissed his lips. The kiss was soft, meaningful, and delicate. She left only the lingering feeling of her lips upon his, and a faint shade of pink when she pulled away. Simon looked into her eyes, reading them, knowing they were pleading with him, and telling him she still loved him. He could see right to her heart, as it broke a little more with each second he didn’t admit his everlasting love and devotion to her. Her eyes were the one thing that always gave her away. Her smile could lie, her laughter could hide any feeling, but her eyes could hide nothing from him. The brown irises of the women he loved were begging him to take her way from all of this, to take her home.
He ignored their cries.
“He’ll make you very happy Paula, don’t go throwing that away on kisses with me. My kisses are not worth it,” He lightly scolded.
She flashed him a flirty smile that had the words ‘Shut the fuck up Cowell’ all over it.
He did and walked her downstairs, holding her hand in his. No words were needed as he left her in front of the doors of the banquet room. She took both his hands in hers and kissed him sweetly on the cheek. He watched as the doors opened and the music began to play. She walked slowly, stepping with one foot and the meeting them before stepping again, just right with Pachelbel’s Cannon. Her shoulders were squared, her movements stiff, as they should be on a day you want to get just right. When she made it down the aisle, she turned to watch where he sat down, but she saw him standing there, in the same spot she’d left him in the entry way.
He winked at her, then turned and walked away.
The preacher was talking, his muffled words somewhere in her distant subconscious. She watched as he walked out of the building, the doors to the room she was being wed in closing behind him.
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