Page 12 of I Do, You Don’t (You Don’t #1)

Gideon

I slide the worn brass key into the lock, the one she pressed into my hand years ago, back when loyalty still meant something. The bolt clicks softly, as if welcoming me home. My pulse quickens, adrenaline prickling under my skin.

The overhead light spills a pale glow across the living room.

Her wool coat, dark as birch bark, is draped over the arm of the couch.

On the low coffee table, a half-empty crystal wine glass catches the flicker of a lone candle, its flame dancing across the walls.

The air smells too clean, too deliberate, as if someone drowned this place in perfume and hoped no one would notice the lies.

I step inside, shoes scuffing against polished hardwood. A loose board creaks under my weight, louder than it should, like the apartment itself is warning her I’ve arrived.

Then I hear her, voice muted but unmistakable, drifting from the bedroom down the hall.

Each footfall is deliberate, measured. The hallway’s narrow walls press in, shadows pooling at my feet.

Delilah’s door hangs ajar, cracked just enough to frame her silhouette.

I don’t knock. I press my ear to the gap, determined to uncover the lies once and for all.

And what better way than by eavesdropping.

“I told you,” she says, her laughter tinkling like shattered glass. “He never showed. You should’ve seen Lara’s face, like someone ripped her heart out and left it bleeding on the altar.”

My breath hitches.

“She floated down the aisle, all smiles, all hope. And then, bam. No groom. No Gideon. Just silence, pity, and that stupid string quartet trying to pretend nothing was wrong.”

I clench my jaw. My fingers curl into fists.

“She kept looking around like he might appear out of thin air. Like love alone could summon him. God, it was pathetic. Her face crumpled in slow motion. I swear, I’ve never seen anything so satisfying.”

I close my eyes. Lara’s face flashes behind them, soft, radiant, searching.

I remember the way she looked at me the night before the wedding, devastated when I took Delilah’s side over the stupid dress and the bachelor party.

I imagine the agony she must have felt when she realized I’d stood her up.

A pause. Then another laugh, cruel, bright.

“I showed him the photo and planted the seed of doubt. He was already spinning his wheels, desperate to escape that wedding. All I had to do was give him the final push.”

I press my back against the wall, the wallpaper’s floral pattern rough against my skin.

It feels like it’s closing in, vines curling tighter.

My chest constricts. I picture Lara in her white lace dress, or at least I assume it was lace.

The cruelty is that I never got to see it: her hopeful smile, her eyes scanning the crowd.

I’d let her down. Let Delilah twist me. All because of a photograph. A lie.

“I knew he didn’t want to marry her,” Delilah says, her voice slicing through my thoughts. “I saw it in his eyes. He felt trapped. I liberated him.”

Liberated. The word makes my stomach churn.

The truth is, I’d been blindsided by her trickery. My love for Lara unraveled in a single moment of doubt. I hadn’t felt trapped with Lara, I’d felt safe. Seen. Loved. But Delilah knew exactly where to cut.

“I mean, come on,” she continues. “Lara’s sweet, sure. But she’s not me. She doesn’t know how to handle him. She doesn’t know how to keep him. I do. I always have.”

I bite down on the inside of my cheek, welcoming the sting as blood floods my mouth.

“She looked like a lost little girl in that thrift-store dress,” Delilah says. “I almost felt bad, almost. Her dad looked like someone had died. Honestly, it was the most entertaining wedding I’ve ever attended.”

Heat surges up my throat.

“I got him. I won.”

I almost push the door open. But I wait. I need to hear it all. I need to know exactly what I’ve lost.

“She’s going to spend the rest of her life wondering what she did wrong,” Delilah says. “And I’m going to be the one he chooses. He always does. Lara was just a phase. I’m the one who’s been here, who knows him. She never stood a chance.”

I stare at the candlelight flickering across the floor. It sputters, choking. The wine glass glints red, like blood. The air feels heavy, perfumed and poisonous.

I draw one last breath. Then shove the door open.

The hinge creaks, loud, final, a grim announcement of my arrival.

Delilah whirls around, phone pressed to her ear. Her wide eyes flash with fear, like a cornered animal in a trap.

“What the hell is this?” I demand.

She stammers, “M-mom, can I call you back?” Her thumb swipes frantically across the screen, killing the call.

“Gideon ,” she breathes, her voice laced with relief she tries to pass off as poise. “You scared me.”

Good. Scaring her is the least I can do.

The cloying weight of her perfume, jasmine, gardenia, hangs between us.

Not ready to tip my hand, I step into the room. “Who sent you the photo of Lara and Calvin?”

Delilah blinks, slow. “What photo?”

“Don’t play dumb. You said it came anonymously. Who sent it?”

Her mouth opens, then shuts. Her gaze flicks to the window, the night sky black beyond the glass, then drops to the floor.

“I don’t know,” she says at last. “It just… showed up.”

“Try again.”

“I swear, Gideon. I didn’t make it. I didn’t even question it. I thought you deserved to see it.”

“You doctored it.”

Her lips part, then seal again. Her eyes dart to the candle, the wine glass, the door behind me.

“You lied,” I say, my voice low, steady. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“I was protecting you,” she murmurs, stepping closer. “You were spiraling. You needed someone to ground you.”

“Ground me from what? From the woman I planned to marry?” My voice cracks.

“She wasn’t good enough for you,” Delilah snaps, nostrils flaring. “She never was. I’ve always loved you.”

I laugh, bitter, hollow. “You watched me walk away. You let me believe she betrayed me. You humiliated her.”

“She would’ve hurt you eventually.”

“No one has hurt me like you.”

Her mask fractures. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”

What?! She knew exactly what she was doing.

“You meant every word,” I say, her triumphant laughter still ringing in my ears.

Delilah collapses to her knees. Mascara streaks her cheeks; tears shimmer in the candlelight. She looks ruined, ragged, utterly alone.

“Please,” she sobs, voice strangled. “Please don’t leave me. We belong together.”

I step back. Her trembling hands reach for me, fingertips brushing the hem of my coat.

“I don’t love you,” I say, each word a blade. “I will never love you.”

Her gasp ricochets off the walls. She folds inward, shoulders quaking.

“You don’t mean that,” she whispers. “You’re just angry.”

“I mean every word.”

“We can fix this,” she pleads, crawling forward like a wounded animal. “I’ll tell Lara the truth. I’ll explain everything. I’ll make it right.”

“You can’t fix what you shattered.”

“I did it for us,” she chokes, tears pooling on the hardwood. “I did it because I love you.”

“You did it to win.”

“I did it because I couldn’t stand to watch you marry someone who doesn’t see you the way I do.”

“You saw me as nothing but a prize.”

“I saw you as mine,” she whispers, voice cracking. “I’ve waited for years. I’ve watched you fall for people who didn’t deserve you. I thought if I just, if I just showed you, ”

“You showed me who you are. ”

Delilah’s sobs deepen. Her body trembles as she presses her forehead to the floor.

“I’ll do anything,” she cries. “I’ll beg her. I’ll go to her house. I’ll fall on my knees on the porch, in front of her dad, I don’t care.”

“She won’t care.”

“She has to,” Delilah says, her voice climbing. “She has to know I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to hurt her. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You meant to win.”

“I meant to be loved,” she whispers, voice breaking. “I meant to matter.”

I stare down at her. She’s collapsed now, palms pressed flat to the floor, sobbing into the hardwood.

“I’ll disappear,” she pleads. “I’ll leave town. I’ll never speak to you again. Just, please, don’t hate me. Please.”

“I don’t hate you,” I say quietly. “I just don’t love you.”

Her head lifts, face streaked with tears and snot. “But I love you. I love you so much it hurts.”

“I know. That’s the problem.”

Delilah crawls closer, hands trembling. “Please. One day. One hour. One minute.”

“You can’t have even that.”

Her voice sharpens, desperate. “I’ll make you forget her.”

“You don’t get to rewrite this.”

“I love you,” she says again, clinging to the words as if they could erase the truth.

I shrug her off. The leather collar of my coat slips from her reach.

Unfortunately for her, she overlooked one crucial detail in her scheme: her mafia brother.

“Calvin knows,” I say, voice like ice.

Delilah’s face drains. Her lips part, but no sound comes.

“What? ” she breathes.

“He knows everything. And he’s pissed.”

She stares, frozen. Her mouth opens, then shuts. Her hands fall limp in her lap.

“I didn’t think he’d find out so soon,” she whispers. “He wasn’t supposed to.”

The flaw in every plan: the piece you forget. If I were Delilah, maybe I’d have assumed Calvin would keep his blood ties quiet for months, maybe years. But Calvin ties up loose ends faster than she imagined.

To twist the knife, I state the obvious. “He did.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” she says, voice small.

Sure.

At last I look at her. She hasn’t looked away. Her expression is unreadable, but her voice steadies. “Please, give me a chance. Forget about her. Move on. I’m sure she has.”

The thought of Lara with anyone else makes my jaw ache. The brutal truth crashes in, I hadn’t lost her back then. But now, I almost certainly have.

Delilah’s gaze darts to the door, then back to me. Desperation burns in her eyes.

“That’s what you don’t understand, Gideon. You both gave up on each other. I was the only one still fighting.”

“No.” The word tears out, my voice cracking. Even as I deny it, the truth scrapes against my ribs. I had given up. I hadn’t asked questions. I hadn’t waited. I just walked.

She senses the fracture, steps closer, her voice softening. “You didn’t fight for her. Not when it counted.”

I want to scream that she’s the one who twisted everything. But I won’t. I won’t give her that power. Not anymore.

I turn for the door. “Goodbye, Delilah.”

The slam that follows is sharp, final, like a gavel falling.

Outside, the cold bites deep. The city stirs—horns, sirens, shadows slipping through the dark. Life moves on.

I left the love of my life at the altar.

Because I believed a lie.

But I won’t let that be the end.

I may not deserve her forgiveness, but I’ll earn the chance to ask for it.

And I’m coming for Lara like a tax return: inevitable, overdue, and fully accounted for.