Amie
“Holy mother of what the fuckicles! Bane, do not let anyone in here,” Ruby pushes him back through the door, then slams it shut, throwing the lock. Her eyes are saucers. It’s understandable.
I’m still wrapped around Lexington. Still trying to get him to have sex with me, and he’s desperately trying not to. And now I’m crying. Sobbing actually. I’m positive I’m having some kind of mental breakdown. On my best friend’s boyfriend’s brother of all people. And I thought Armstrong getting a blow job from not-me was as bad as it could get. Obviously I was wrong.
Ruby stalks across the room, hissing in an angry whisper. “What in the ever-loving hell are you doing, Lex!” She punches him in the back and shoulder, aiming for places where my body parts are not latched onto him.
“It’s not how it looks.” He scrambles to get up, but I’m still clinging like plastic wrap. I can feel his hard-on—thick and ready against me. It’s clear he likes what he sees, if he’d just given me what I wanted then maybe I wouldn’t feel so empty of everything.
Even as I think it I know it doesn’t make any sense. That my actions come from a place of devastation and desperation. I’m so angry and hurt. I feel broken and lost, stupid and embarrassed. There isn’t any one emotion I can hold on to that fits right now.
“Amie, you need to let go of Lex,” Ruby says softly. As if she’s talking to someone teetering on the edge of reason. Which is about right.
I shake my head even though I know I should do what she says. I’m just humiliating myself even more right now, but letting go means seeing his reaction to my loss of sanity and I’m not ready for that yet. Lexington shifts until he’s on his knees. He’s stopped trying to pry me off. In all honesty, he might need a crowbar. If I hold on to him long enough maybe he’ll just absorb me and I’ll disappear. Yet another strange and implausible thought, proving all rationality has completely evaporated. They’re whispering back and forth, the words not really registering through the haze of pain and anger that’s consuming me.
“Oh my God. Amie, honey, what happened to your dress?” Ruby asks.
“She cut herself out of it.” One hand leaves my body for a second, so I assume he’s gesturing to the pile of satin, lace, and beads I left behind in my transformation from bride to mostly naked crazy person.
There’s a deep inhale followed by a beat of silence, during which Lex’s palm moves up and down my back. It feels nice. Calming. I want it to go on forever and ever. I want him to reach inside my heart and have the same effect on the ache in there.
“Right. Wow. I’m not sure how I missed that. Okay. I guess a robe will have to do for now. She can change on the way home.”
Soft fabric is draped over my shoulders and I shudder at the sensation.
“Shhhh, it’s okay. It’ll be okay,” Lex murmurs as he pushes to his feet.
When I bury my face in his neck he cups my cheek, brushing away the tears with his thumb, which makes me cry even harder. Why does he have to be so tender? And sweet. I don’t want tender and sweet. I want revenge. I want what Armstrong did to me to be erased. I want Lex to forget everything I’ve just said and done and pretend it never happened and I want to be able do the same.
It’s loud on the other side of the door, banging and yelling muffled by the thin wooden barrier. I can hear Armstrong calling my name and what sounds like my father shouting. I just want all of it to stop. I don’t know how to manage any of this.
“We have to get her out of here. Armstrong is going batshit and so is everyone else. I think Bane wants to beat the crap out of him, if he hasn’t already, and Armstrong’s mother is having a complete breakdown. Amie can’t and shouldn’t have to deal with this right now.” Ruby’s hand is on my shoulder, gentle, as if I might shatter. I feel like I could.
“How’re we going to make that happen when they’re all outside the door?” Lex shifts his hold and grips my thigh. Not that it’s necessary, my legs are like a vice around him, thanks to my endless hours of Pilates in preparation for this farce of a wedding.
I try to tell them that I’m right here and they can talk directly to me, but all that comes out is a craggy sob. I get some more shushing from Lex and a few strokes over my hair.
“There’s a car waiting at the back entrance.”
“We’re getting you out of here,” Lex whispers in my hair.
I’m shocked by frigid air as Lex steps out into the winter night. Loud pounding along with Armstrong begging me to let him in is cut off by the slam of the door Lex just carried me through.
Moments later my butt hits cool leather and Lex’s voice is in my ear, deep, mollifying. “Come on, sweetheart, you gotta let go now.”
He’s right, but I’m so embarrassed. Not only has my husband humiliated me in front of everyone we know, and about three hundred people I don’t, I’ve thrown myself at Lex and he turned me down, and now I’ve cried all over him. This is the worst night of my entire life. Even the interrogation room in Mexico has nothing on this.
He strokes my hair again, then gently unhooks my legs from his waist. “It’s okay, baby, I get it. I know I’m irresistible.” My laugh comes out a sob. His lips touch my cheek. “No was the very last thing I wanted to say to you.”
I shiver at the admission, and wonder how much of it is meant to mend my battered ego and broken heart. I have no idea how I’m going to recover from this.
It takes effort to pry my own fingers from his neck. I can’t look at him, my mortification over my own actions finally sinking in. What the hell is wrong with me?
“Hey.” Lexington’s fingers rest under my chin. He tips my head up until I have no choice but to look at him. “I mean it. I’m going to regret this forever.”
Commotion behind him has him straightening quickly. I get a glimpse of him fastening his belt as he closes the car door and then he’s moving toward the hotel as the door bursts open. Armstrong storms out, yelling my name. I don’t know what he could possibly want to say to me. He’s done all the damage he can. His plea for me to come back is cut off when Lex’s fist connects with his face.
I watch what was supposed to be my future fall to his knees, hands cupping his face, and I wonder if his physical pain can in any way match my emotional agony. I don’t think it’s possible.