Take Two, page 1
part #1 of The Jilted Bride Series
Take Two:
A Romantic Comedy
(The Jilted Bride Series)
Whitney Gracia Williams
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2012 by Whitney Gracia Williams
whitgracia@gmail.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.
Cover photograph by Alagich Katya
http://www.flickr.com/photos/katya_alagich/6813664168/sizes/l/
This book is dedicated to my mother, Lafrancine Maria Bond Edwards. Thank you for always believing in me and my dreams. You have no idea how much that means to me.
Acknowledgments:
Jennifer Williams, you are the best sister in the world. Fred Jones, I can’t thank you enough for reading this all the way through and refusing to accept my laundry list of excuses. Ashley Warren, thanks for helping me with the first few chapters—hope I wasn’t too “list-y” in the others. :-) Nadira Williams, cheers to “Tonightttttt, We Are Young…Let’s Set the World on Fire!” William R. Edwards and LaFrancine Edwards, thanks for putting up with my “bumminess” and giving me the space to write the book. Jay Williams, muchas gracias for your input on the cover. Ray Edwards II, thank you for reading this out loud to me on numerous occasions. Tamisha Joiner and Tiffany Downs, I hope both of your weddings end better than Melody Carter’s. :-)
Thanks to Aster Teclay, Alonna Grigsby, Tanisha Hill, Sherbrina Shepherd, Christina Royster, Courtney Johnson, and Karleic Ellison for being great inspirations from afar :-)
Thank you to all my friends and family. I love you all.
Table of Contents:
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Take 3 Excerpt
I was almost married to the love of my life. I was almost moments away from a two week honeymoon in St. Bart’s. I was almost Mrs. Melody Scofield…
Chapter 1
Melody
Hurt and embarrassed, I sat in the first class cabin of a Boeing 707. I was heading to Tennessee, anxiously awaiting my parents’ embrace. Although I’d managed to suppress tears all day, my eyes were swollen and puffy—revealing five nights of uncontrollable bawling.
As the flight attendant announced the emergency procedures, I crossed my legs and realized I was wearing two different tennis shoes. I hadn’t even bothered packing a suitcase, only a carryon with a couple outfits. I knew those probably wouldn’t match either, but I didn’t care. I just needed to get away from New York City, away from my heartache.
The plane began its ascent and I exhaled. Two hours and thirty minutes away. Two hours, thirty minutes, and fifty five seconds away.
I tried to keep my mind occupied: I flipped through a worn copy of Sky Mall magazine, watched the woman across from me paint her toes orange, and ordered Rum & Coke.
I was tempted to pull out my laptop to get a head start on the latest Matthew McConaughey movie, but I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t in the mood to write a movie review, especially for a romantic comedy.
“That’ll be twelve dollars, Mrs. Scofield,” the flight attendant smiled as she handed me a drink.
I wasn’t sure if it was the twelve dollar price tag for a six ounce glass, or hearing her voice linger on “Mrs.” for more than half a second, but I began to cry.
Five days ago, I was standing at the altar with my fiancé, Sean Scofield. He was everything I wanted in a man—kind, loving, supportive, successful. He was also one of the most attractive men I’d ever met.
I gazed into his bright blue eyes and recited my vows. “Sean, you are my first and only love. When we met six years ago, I had no idea that the guy I tripped over on the subway would end up being my husband. I wake up every morning and think of you, of us, of how wonderful these six years have been. I look forward to spending the rest of my life with you and I promise to cherish, love, and respect you forever.”
A soft applause arose from the audience and Sean smiled at me. I broke our gaze and took in the venue.
The theme for our wedding was Old Hollywood. Sean had spent over three hundred thousand dollars to bring everything to life: the aisle’s red carpet, the white Marilyn Monroe-inspired bridesmaid dresses and Humphrey Bogart tuxedos, the twenty piece orchestra, the thirty thousand red and white roses, the faux paparazzi, and the chandelier modeled after the one in Phantom of the Opera. We’d even taken three months of dance lessons to nail the routine from Dirty Dancing at the reception.
I turned to face Sean once more. His bright blue eyes were gleaming, his short sun kissed hair was brushed away from his face, and his wide smile hadn’t faded since I walked down the aisle.
Suddenly, I remembered all the times he showed up on campus to surprise me, all the times the other girls would fawn over him and jealously whisper as we walked hand in hand.
“Melody,” he said. “I loved you the first day we met. I’ve known that you were the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with ever since. Every day we’re together is amazing and I look forward to every day after today. I promise to love you, respect you, cherish you, and protect you until death do us part. I love you.”
I felt my cheeks redden and squeezed his hands.
“I love you too,” I whispered.
“If there is anyone here today who feels that these two should not be wedded in holy matrimony,” the pastor adjusted the microphone, “please speak now or forever hold your peace.”
I took one step towards my almost-husband and squeezed his hands again.
“Excuse me!” a voice cried out.
I turned to face the audience as whispers and murmurs filled the room. A woman wearing a long pink dress was making her way down the aisle.
As she neared the altar, I noticed her eyes were bloodshot and her face was pale, sickly pale. Her frizzy blonde hair, which hung just below her chin, looked as if it hadn’t been combed in days.
Who is this bitch?
The blonde bitch stood in front of the two of us, looking at me and then at Sean. It seemed like she was just going to stand there, as if her sole purpose of interrupting was to see if she could stall a wedding.
I noticed my sister signaling for security out the corner of my eye, but the blonde bitch began to speak.
“Sean,” she sighed.
He knows her? Is this the friend that was sent to the psych ward two years ago?
“I do love you,” she cried. “I am in love with you. The other night I wasn’t completely sure but I know now. And I know that this is the worst possible timing and I’m sorry, but I…It’s not too late Sean. Tell me I’m not too late.”
The room fell unnervingly silent, no doubt so everyone could absorb every single syllable that fell out of Sean’s mouth. There were no more hushed conversations, no more muffled murmurs. Just silence.
Sean stood motionless. He didn’t even blink. He just stood there, staring at blonde bitch. After what felt like an eternity, he let my hands go and shook his head.
“I’m sorry Melody. I’m so sorry, but I can’t do this…Please don’t hate me,” he said as he stepped down.
I couldn’t feel the tears falling down my face, but I knew they were there. I couldn’t feel my heart stop, but I knew it was only a matter of seconds before I collapsed.
I looked at my sister, who was shouting at Sean and blonde bitch as they walked down the aisle hand in hand. I saw my parents rushing towards me, but I didn’t want anyone around. I wanted to run away. I wanted to hide.
I lifted the bottom of my dress, took one too many left steps, and fell backwards into my sister’s arms.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our destination,” the pilot announced over the intercom. “Welcome to Memphis, Tennessee. Local weather calls for a high of eighty five degrees and a low of seventy degrees with scattered thunderstorms.”
I glanced out my window and noted the heavy downpour.
I remained in my seat until the last passenger exited the plane. I was tempted to stay on board, tempted to ask how much they would charge for a one night stay.
Sighing, I stood to my feet and grabbed my carryon from the overhead bin. I managed to walk past two rows before my knees buckled beneath me.
I cried again.
“Ma’am! Ma’am!” the flight attendant stooped down and touched my forehead. “Are you alright?”
“No,” I slowly stood up. “No. I’m not alright.”
“I’m sorry,” she looked genuinely conc erned. “Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll get someone to bring you a wheelchair?”
I was usually against people taking pity on me, but not this time. I waited for wheelchair assistance as the flight crew stood in a corner whispering. Every few minutes I caught pieces of what they were saying—“She just collapsed.” “Should we report this?” “How much did she have to drink on board?”—but I was focused on trying to hide the rest of my emotions until I was alone.
“Ma’am?” a young man entered the plane and reached out for my hand. “Are you ready to go now?”
I nodded my head.
He matched me step for step, and when we were off the plane he motioned for me to sit in the wheelchair. He wheeled me through Gate B, and I couldn’t help but to think of how many times Sean and I had traveled in and out of airports—how many times he’d taken me around the world: Sri Lanka. Brazil. Germany. Panama.
As he pushed me past baggage claim, I felt tears falling down my face.
We headed towards the pick-up zone and the doors leading out of Memphis International flew open. I pointed out my mom’s gray Jeep and he helped me into the car.
“Thank you sir,” I heard my mom say as she closed my door.
I saw her hand the wheelchair man a twenty and fastened my seatbelt.
“Welcome home Melody,” she slid into the driver’s seat.
“Thank you.”
“We were really worried about you,” she slowly drove off. “I don’t know why you didn’t want to come home with us right after. It must have been—”
I wasn’t listening. All I could think about were the wasted preparations, the wasted rehearsals, and the wasted time.
“We got you some of that fancy hot chocolate you like. And we’re going to—”
The custom Vera Wang gown. The Christian Louboutin shoes. The Max Mara veil.
“We had all your wedding gifts shipped down. Do you have any plans for—”
The flower arrangements. The twenty piece orchestra. The photographers.
“Melody? Melody? Are you there?”
The custom rings that took six months to complete. The matching tattoos. The vows.
“Hun, you look really sick. Do I need to pull over?”
“No mom,” I rejoined her in reality. “I just want to get home.”
She turned the radio up and placed her hand on my knee. I looked out my window and watched the rain fall in sheets.
The Jeep maneuvered onto our cobblestoned driveway and my dad made his way out of the house holding a yellow umbrella. He opened the door on my side and lifted me into his arms.
I couldn’t hold back anymore.
“He left me Daddy,” I sobbed. “He left me in front of everyone.”
“It’s okay Melody. It’s okay.”
Hours later, I awoke to the smell of hot chocolate and pumpkin pie. I dragged myself into the kitchen and pulled out a mug. On the counter was a note: “Left to get dinner—Corky’s BBQ. Your favorite. : ) Your loving parents.”
I couldn’t remember the last time I ate meat. Sean and I agreed to become vegetarians over a year ago.
I wonder if his blonde bitch eats meat…
I slowly poured myself a cup of hot chocolate and dropped the mug once I caught a glimpse of my engagement ring.
I feebly ran my finger along the small rubies that surrounded the four carat diamond. I didn’t have the heart to take it off yet. I was still in shock, in disbelief.
I was trying to pinpoint a moment in time when he may have started acting strange, when he may have shown a rare episode of suspicious spontaneity, but I couldn’t find one. I would’ve never guessed that Sean, my Sean, would leave me crying at the altar. He didn’t seem like the type.
Sean was an immensely talented jewelry designer. Four years my senior, he dropped out of law school to study under renowned jeweler Frances Durmont.
While I was in college, he treated me to small trinkets he created: tiny ruby rings with sapphire accents, beaded pearls with reversible clasps, and intricate charm bracelets—lots of charm bracelets.
He left Durmont during my senior year and opened his own shop, Belazi, a small storefront that once served as a book store.
Business was slow at first, but word quickly spread about his reversible beaded clasps, and he was able to move his store to a prime location on Fifth Avenue. His client list quadrupled in months and grew to include the likes of major celebrities and Fortune 500 CEOs.
With his newfound riches, he took me with him on business trips all over the world. He even took me to diamond mining sites, explaining the history of trade and manufacturing in great detail. He showed me all the places I’d read about, all the places I’d seen in the Hollywood classics.
He proposed to me in Naples, Italy, after we’d eaten two dozen pizze at La Notizia and were both drenched in a sudden summer rain.
I thought he and I would always be together.
Later that night I felt my mom French braiding my hair, softly tugging the strands as if she didn’t want to wake me.
“He was the one who convinced me to be a brunette you know?” I cried.
“Shhh,” she rubbed my back. “Go back to sleep. We can talk later.”
“Was she prettier than me?”
“Melody, don’t do that to yourself. There’ll be someone else.”
“I don’t want someone else.”
“Go to sleep Melody.”
I tried to keep my eyes open in protest, but I quickly succumbed to the stubbornness of heavy eyelids.
Chapter 2
Matt
I shoved my notes into my pocket and walked out of my trailer. For some strange reason, the usual throng of fans was nowhere to be found. The only paparazzi were two men chatting away on their cell phones, punching the air with their fists.
“Matt! Matt!” my agent Shelby waved at me. “I’m sorry! I didn’t realize you were going to be up so early today. George made a couple of adjustments to the park scene.”
“What? Why?”
“Do you really think they give agents insight on the creative process?”
I sighed. “What’s different?”
“Well, George thinks the ‘rain and kissing’ scene should involve some skin. So when you’re running through Central Park looking for the love of your life, your shirt will need to be off.”
“My shirt needs to be off? I thought my character had just gotten back from the airport.”
“He did,” she clasped her hands together. “But the air conditioning in the plane malfunctioned. So since he was in business class, the flight attendant asked him to take off his shirt to block the fumes coming from the cockpit. And then—”
This can’t be real life. I’m going to wake up any moment now and be on the set of a film with substance and not stuck in another romantic comedy that involves me taking my shirt off.
I mean, I’ve never minded stripping for the camera. Someone’s got to do it and it might as well be someone like me. But the sheer lack of “art” involved is getting to me. I went to Julliard for Christ’s sake! Surely Broadway will re-launch “Death of a Salesman” and I can snag the role of Willy Loman. Or maybe—
“Matt?” Shelby’s shrill voice brought me back to the present. “What brand of baby oil do you prefer?”
“I don’t care,” I rolled my eyes. “Where’s Joan? I need a couple of things from Saks before we wrap today.”
“I believe she’s across town getting your breakfast.”
“Oh,” I looked at my watch. I really was early. Two hours early.
I took out my phone. “Joan?”
“Mr. Sterling? Did I set your alarm for the wrong time? I’m sorry if I—”
“No, Joan. I’m just up early today. Is there any way you could bring me two extra bagels? White truffle cream cheese?”
“Not a problem sir. Do you still need me to pick up your order from Saks Fifth Avenue this afternoon?”
“Yes please.”
“And sir, don’t forget that I’ve made dinner reservations for you and Miss Ross’ two year anniversary tonight.”
“That’s tonight?” I sighed, trying to mask my annoyance.
