Iced Romance (23 page)

Which is when we came back here and were truly alone together.

I’d missed being held in Todd’s arms all these weeks when I was lying alone in my bed. But now he feels like a stranger.

I am frustrated with myself, angry at Todd for following me here and interfering with my life, and irritated with David for looking for me at Maxie’s earlier.

I grind my teeth and shift out from under Todd’s arm. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and walk to the window again, staring at nothing. The world is silent now. Nobody is on the street, nobody is moving.

Just blackness.

I crawl to the phone and pick it up. I hear the dial tone and hesitate. It’s late. How late, I’m not really sure, but David will be asleep. I shouldn’t call. I should just let sleeping dogs lie. I’m getting married in a few short hours after all. And I especially can’t call him while my fiancé sleeps a few feet away.

That’s like the premeditated adultery thing. And it’s definitely condemned in the Bible.

I put the phone back down and step into the bathroom. I am antsy, and I feel like my body is going to explode if I am confined here a minute more.

I’m going out.

I throw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and open the door, sneaking one last look at Todd. I grab the credit card he’d given me earlier and stuff it into my bra for safe keeping. Then I pad down the hallway, hit the button for the elevator and emerge in the gloomy lobby.

A night clerk looks up as I walk by. “Hi,” I say, waving at him halfheartedly.

“Miss,” he says, inclining his head, and then gives his attention back to the paperback novel he’s reading. John Grisham’s latest. I make a mental note to buy myself a copy of it later. I love John Grisham books. Always so formulaic, so technical. A perfect way to escape into a different world, away from the mess I’ve created in my own.

I walk through the circular, rotating door and breathe in deeply. The air outside is cooler than I’ve experienced yet in Florida, but it feels fresh and moist on my face. My eyes are irritated from crying so much lately, and the humidity makes them sting a little.

I don’t know where to go.

I sit on the curb, looking into the black bushes nearby. I’m under the same night sky as you, David, I think briefly. Are you thinking of me right now too? Or are you asleep, angry at me and already wishing you’d never met me?

Headlights appear at the far end of the street and as I watch, a cab pulls up in front of the hotel. A tired looking business man climbs out and I jump to my feet and wave my hand.

“Taxi?”

The cab driver smiles at me and motions for me to get in. I slide into the back seat and regret it almost at once. The cab is sweltering and has a vaguely familiar BO smell to it.

“Where is your destination?” The cabbie has a thick Puerto Rican accent and suddenly I realize why this seems familiar.

“I know you! You drove me to Kissimmee about a month ago,” I exclaim, leaning forward to see him better. I’m right, it’s definitely him.

The man squints at me and then recognition dawns. “You the girl who was so afraid of the neighborhood!” He begins laughing at the memory and I smile despite myself.

“So the AC is still broken, huh.” I fan my face with my hand and close the cab door.

“Yes,
señorita
, the air is still broke. But soon I get fixed. Just need little more
dinero.
”

“How much do you need to fix it?”

“Too much, unless you give good tip?” The man grins at me and I laugh. It’s like I’m with an old friend, even though he is a stranger.

“Can you just drive me around for a few hours?” I have no destination in mind, but I have to go somewhere, or else I’ll shoot myself. “Just keep driving and I’ll tell you when to stop.”

“Sure.” The cabbie takes off and drives past dark homes, down deserted streets. Orlando is ritzy, beautiful. It’s so different than my little Kissimmee, so much more glamorous, but I find myself missing the simplicity of Main Street, of the little shops and restaurants that I’d come to know and love.

I watch for the Italian restaurant that David and I ate at, but I don’t see it anywhere. Orlando is a big place.

After about thirty minutes, I lean on the window and drift asleep to the gentle rocking as the cab drives me around and around in stuffy humidity.

❄   ❅   ❄

I open my eyes and am completely disoriented. My shoulders and neck are in excruciating pain, my stomach hurts from where a seatbelt is cutting into my flesh, and my head pounds with the lack of fresh air.

“Ugh,” I moan, stretching and cracking my neck.

“
Señorita
, you awake? You want me to take you back to the hotel?”

I glance at the dashboard and see the current fare is at just over five hundred dollars. Crap. We must have been driving in circles for hours.

“What time is it?” I croak. I rub my eyes and blearily look at the passing palm trees.

“Eight o’clock,” the cabbie chirps. “So . . . hotel?”

“Yes, please. And, if you could drive fast, that would be great.” My voice takes on an edge of panic. “My wedding is in just a couple of hours. I’m getting married!”

“You’re getting married?” He seems quizzical. He changes lanes, honks his horn at a stalled minivan with flashing lights, and looks at me in the rearview mirror. “Why you spend your last night as a free woman asleep in a cab?”

I sigh. “It’s complicated. I couldn’t stay in my hotel any more. It was too . . . constricting. I had to get out.”

“If the thought of marriage makes you constricted, marriage will do it even more to you,” he warns, sounding sort of like Yoda.

“I know,” I admit miserably. “I just don’t know what to do at this point. If I go ahead with it, maybe my life will stop being such a disaster.”

“
Tal vez
.” The cabbie doesn’t sound convinced. “But
mi abuela
always say that people cannot run from problems. You have to face them head on.”

“I don’t have the energy to face them. I can barely get myself into the shower every day, let alone confront my multitude of issues. Thanks for the advice, but I think your grandmother’s wrong.” I am so, so tired. Physically, mentally, emotionally.

The cabbie swerves around a corner and steps on the gas, running through a yellow-turned-red light and jamming the brakes right before we smash into a Lamborghini. “You be okay, I know it. You survive in Kissimmee, you survive anything.”

I know he’s joking, but it’s reassuring. Maybe I can survive. Maybe this can all work out.

I lean back and close my eyes until the cab driver has pulled up in front of the Marriott again. When he stops, I grab my credit card out of my bra, lean forward, and hand it to him.

“I appreciate you driving me around.” I say, meaning it. Then, without hesitation, I add, “And please add an extra five hundred to the bill. Consider it a tip, or whatever you guys call it. You really need air conditioning.”

“You mean it?” He seems shocked. I nod and sign the receipt he hands to me for the grand total of $1,102.00.

“Thanks for the ride.” I climb out and stumble my way back into the hotel. It is much more awake now. Parents with kids are everywhere, asking directions to Disneyworld, yelling at their kids to get down from the fountain.

A few photographers are in chairs in the waiting area, and I have a sneaking suspicion that they are here for the wedding. I avert my eyes and hurry past them. They are watching the elevators, ready to leap to their feet at the first sign of fame, and don’t give me a second glance.

When I get back to the hotel room, I discover that in my mad rush last night, I had forgotten to grab a key card. I knock lightly on the door. Nothing.

“Todd?” I call, not wanting to wake anyone else up. I knock again. “Todd?”

No answer. He must be really hung over.

I wonder if the desk clerk would let me in if I go down and explain the situation to him?

I try knocking again. “Todd? Honey, can you wake up? I forgot my key.”

A giggle from inside the room is the only reply I get. I feel myself turn cold, my stomach lurches.

A giggle? Is there a
woman
in there? I’ve only been gone for eight hours and I’m sure he hasn’t been awake for more than one or two at the most. Did he seriously wake up and immediately get a woman on the phone and drag her to the hotel room? What is
wrong
with him? And what’s wrong with me for believing his apology crap?

“Todd, open the freaking door!” I am louder now. I don’t care who I wake up. All I want is for the door to open and to see what is going on in there.

“Todd, if you don’t open the door,” I yell, banging on the door, “I’m going to call security and make them open it.”

I raise my fist to hit it again, when the door flies open. Todd stands there, wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Babe, what’s going on?”

I shove past him and race around the room. “Where is she?”

Todd looks pious. “Who? There’s nobody else here.”

I fall to my hands and knees and peer under the bed. “I know somebody’s here, Todd. Don’t
lie
to me.” I am borderline hysterical.

“Babe, calm down.” Todd places a hand on my shoulder but I shrug him off. I stand, my eyes wildly looking for other possible hiding places.

The bathroom!

I run to the bathroom and push the door open. “Ouch!” A giggle and a disheveled blonde head appears from behind the door. Emily Poole, wearing nothing but a chagrined smile, blinks at me.

“Oh, hi Kennedy.” She is flushed and looks chagrined, holding her hands out to ward off my attack.

“You slept with Emily?” My rage is at a boiling point. I am disappointed, humiliated. “We’re supposed to be getting married in a few hours. And she
is
married! How could you do this to Jonny? He’s your best friend! You low life, scum-sucking pig!” I hit the bathroom door with my fist. Tears flood my eyes at the instant pain, and I curse under my breath.

To Todd’s credit, he looks away from me, unable to meet my eyes. He runs his hands through his hair and says after a long pause, “I’m sorry. I thought you’d left again. You know, like last time. Emily happened to come by and one thing led to another.” He holds out his hands in a helpless gesture and smiles. “It won’t happen again.”

“You’re right it won’t happen again,” I snap. “We’re over. We are one hundred percent done. We are not getting married today. Or ever. This is called being finished. Broken up. Don’t ever call me or see me again.”

I march to the door, furious at Todd. But mainly furious at myself.

Todd catches me from behind and gives me an awkward bear hug. “Babe, it’s not too late. We can get through this. Maybe counseling would work, or something. I’m sorry.”

Emily has found a bed sheet to wrap herself in and is now nodding her head. “It’s true,” she pipes up. “This will never happen again. Don’t tell anyone, okay? It’ll be our little secret.”

“Our secret that my supposed best friend cheated with my fiancé on my wedding day?” I spit the words out and glower at them over my shoulder. “It’s like you’re determined that we end up on
Dr. Phil
. This is unbelievable!”

I pull away from Todd and face the two of them. “Todd, we are finished. No counseling, no nothing. I’m leaving you in about five minutes, and I’m leaving forever. I’m not in the habit of gossiping and selling my soul to celebrity magazines, so the two of you can keep this dirty little secret for the rest of your lives. However, this is it. Stop looking for me. Stop trying to win me back.”

I lick my lips and then hurry to get the rest out. “If you ever come near me again, I will tell the world what you and Emily have done. I’ll tell everyone that you cheated on me on our wedding day. Your friendship with Jonny will be over. You’ll be more hated and despised than Jesse James or Tiger Woods.”

Todd holds out his arms. “Babe?” He seems confused. “You mean it?”

“I’m done,” I say lamely. “I’m really done. Don’t come back again, Todd.”

Todd frowns and rubs his temples. “I’m sorry.”

I nod. “Me too. But this is the way it has to be now.”

And for some reason, I believe him. He is sorry. He’s sorry for the mess, he’s sorry we’re not together anymore. Maybe he’s even sorry for cheating. But I can’t take a plain old sorry anymore.

I walk out of the room. The door closes behind me and I close that chapter of my life. Turn the page.

It’s over.