Page 24

Love Runs Cold

I love you Ivy Sage Rutledge.

3+3

I love you, Ivy Sage Rutledge

=6

—Tayden

I ’m a fucking wreck.

I shouldn’t be the day I’m supposed to be marrying the love of my life, but here I am, in agony, a burning inferno inside me, no joy to be found.

Marriage to the world is simple: you find someone, and your worlds collide, eventually deciding to spend forever together, making a promise so easily given because of how your hearts feel.

For me, it’s nothing but a calculated decision; it always has been, emotions aside, what is best for all surrounding me, not the little organ beating inside my chest, the one I gave away so long ago that I forgot I had been missing it.

Men don’t grow up thinking about their wedding day, and I was no different.

No, those dreams were made for young girls.

Sitting here today in this room surrounded by my groomsmen, I’m well aware that the person I am about to marry is sitting in a room not too far from me, playing through all her childhood dreams of this day and those thoughts matching with exactly what she wanted her entire life as she takes in each moment and checks each box off her list.

I am not.

I can’t get Ivy out of my head.

I fucking miss her, but this is a means to an end.

I pondered many times how she would take the news once she learned of my upcoming nuptials.

I was certain I’d get some sort of response from her, but nothing ever came.

I am surprised by that; maybe she really meant what she said the last time we spoke.

We are done.

There’s so much I have left to say, so much I still want to know about her and share of myself with her.

Did she ever think of her wedding day? Sure, her life was very unconventional, but surely, she thought about it and had dreams of what that would look like.

As a child I never did, but over the years I’ve dreamt of her before me in her white gown endless nights and she’s breathtaking—perfect.

Shaking my head, I attempt to remove the thoughts, knowing damn well if she did, it was probably me at the end of her aisle, as she was for me; and here I am about to commit to someone else breaking her heart all over again.

Someone had to break the cycle.

Glancing around the room, I look at the men in my life cheersing Dos Equis, casually bantering back and forth.

I think back to the only memory I have close to this day, my twelfth birthday when I gave Ivy that smiley face ring.

The way her face lit up, and I was so nervous, to wake up the next day to never see or hear from her again for years, followed by all the moments after with her from the moment she found me on Facebook to a few months ago.

A lifetime together yet so far apart.

Our talks over the years, the way she understands me and lights up my soul when I see her name appear on my phone, the way her body feels in my brisk hands, and her smile, fuck, that gorgeous smile that claims every part of me as hers.

“Almost time, my guy!”

Maikel, my best man, exclaims, slapping my back like it’s guy’s night, and we are ten drinks in, which he for certain is.

Trying to hide my apprehension and closet my fears from the people consuming my dressing room, I turn to him, masking with a half grin, raising my hand up. “Hell yeah, my guy, I snagged a good one,”

I engage, wanting to vomit at the words that just left my mouth. A good one? Is that what one thinks of the woman they are professing their love to, a promise of eternity together in front of family and God?

“A good one? Bro, you snagged the entire taco truck, enchiladas, sides, and all. You have the empire, the woman, the kid, and the money; you have it all .”

I drop my head down toward the floor, shaking it left to right in embarrassment at how vile Maikel sounds comparing a woman to food.

I release a laugh, hopeful not to alert irritation; after all, to them, I am one of the boys, but fuck, it gets irritating never being surrounded by men as deep as I am.

Always shallow and on the surface, but what do I expect? I never converse with anyone below the surface either, except the one person not here today.

Her—my smiley Ivy.

I look around, taking a deep breath, assessing the room, as I scan it with my eyes.

I stop when I have a clear shot of my father standing over in the corner, throwing back another Dos Equis, chatting with Uncle Carlos.

He looks at me, shooting me a proud father stare, raising his bottle to me.

I raise mine back, slightly tilting it forward, keeping my words to myself, pursing my lips in false affirmation.

He’s lucky to even be here.

If it wasn’t for keeping up public appearances, he wouldn’t be after all he’s done.

Memories of my parents’ divorce start consuming my thoughts, and I can feel the cold sweat beading on my forehead, followed by the clamming in my hands.

I can’t help but wonder if I’m sealing my fate the same as theirs by getting married today, pushing myself into their tragic ending by doing what is right and not what my heart desires.

They wouldn’t care either way.

My parents aren’t awful, but they have certainly taught me that love is an illusion.

I swallow, trying to release the lump from inside my throat, failing to dislodge it, and all I want is to rip this fucking bow tie from my neck, thoughts of Ivy invading my mind fiercely and uncontrollably.

Reaching one hand down, I wipe it against my black pants, switching my beer to my other, I do the same.

Anxiety starts settling in as my mind races from my parents’ divorce, to the meaning we are gathered for here today, to her.

Fuck, little flame.

I’m so sorry.

I am marrying Anastasia.

Fuck, I am getting married.

The severity of it all hits me, and I just need a moment to myself.

I need to get the hell out of this room and find some fresh air before I fucking run.

Run, Tayden.

Her voice is crystal clear for me to go now.

That’s exactly what I start doing.

Racing through the halls, my breaths closing in time as I push through the crowds of staff arranging flowers and setting tables, working to make my day, her day perfect.

My heart starts beating faster as my desire to reach out to her slams into me like a truck on the freeway.

Every part of me needs to call Ivy.

I know she’s not the happiest with me, nor am I with her, but regardless, she should be here.

God, I sound selfish as fuck, wishing my childhood love would be in attendance at my wedding to another woman.

Wishing the woman I have been cheating on Anastasia with throughout the years emotionally, and sexually as of late, would console me in my apprehensions? I know it’s wrong.

I know I shouldn’t have allowed it to get this far.

I know it’s not fair to my future wife, but I can’t help but wish Ivy was here.

Wish it was her trailing down that aisle in her beautiful white dress.

Although, knowing her, it would probably be red.

The thought warms a smile on my face.

She has been my best friend, my lover, and my partner in life for as long as I can remember.

I had no life before Ivy.

She is irreplaceable.

Fuck Tayden, Anastasia is who you should be thinking of, not Ivy.

Finally, I reach an exit door.

My hands slamming them apart, the force causing me to lose my balance as I fall to my knees, hunching down, feeling the cold wrap around my body, watching my breaths become visible in the air.

My chest caving in and out as I try to steady my breaths.

I am certain this is what a panic attack looks like.

I have never had one before, but I am not surprised today would be my first.

I should have called her.

I should have explained to her, although we spent years explaining to each other why we can’t be together.

So, what would it really do at this point? I think the reason she and I have never gotten over us is because our explanations make no sense.

Our reasoning is a protection and not an actual justification.

There is every reason for us to be together and no reason we shouldn’t.

We have never been free from our absolution because we have spent years stuck in that stupid pact of never trying, letting guilt overtake us, and allowing fear to prevent us from taking the leap.

Fear that if we were to actually build a life together, it would not be like it is in our minds, in our dreams, or close to anything we have when we meet up every so often.

This is our unspoken bond, this is our legacy, and after today, it is eternally our story, quite possibly our ending.

I am a lot of things; a man with sexual desires for women other than Anastasia, a coward for never demanding from Ivy what we have always wanted, and a scared boy afraid to disappoint his parents by choosing her instead of their silent disapproval.

It has been no secret my parents never approved of her back then, but we were kids.

They never knew her, just what her father shoved down their throats.

Am I scared of them, or am I scared of truly being happy? Scared of being with someone who feeds every part of me and has the ability to take away all that is broken within me, a woman with whom I have no control around and who peels at my vulnerability with every breath she takes.Finally finding the strength, I lift myself up, brushing the whitest of snow off my trousers, pulling down on both lapels, straightening out my tux.

Looking up to the sky, releasing a long and steady breath, I fold my hands into my pockets.

Focus Tayden.

My hand brushes over my eyes, wiping away tears I didn’t even know had escaped.

I catch a glimpse of something red from the corner of my eye, and my gaze immediately shoots to it, like all I was feeling she was too, and she came to stop me from making the biggest mistake of my life.

Hope intrudes me as I glance over, only to realize it is just another largely, oversized arrangement of red roses being wheeled towards the altar.

Of course, of all the colors in the world, Anastasia had to choose red.

I understand the dynamic as it shines off that white snow so fiercely, but red? I’m trapped in my head, and now I am surrounded by her everywhere I turn.

The day I will forever break her heart, the day we both agreed we would never have unless it was to each other is painted in her favorite shade.

Marriage was our only limit.

And I stand here about to break it, break her, and possibly us forever.

All the guests have found their seats.

The snow is starting to pick up, little kisses falling from the sky, at least that’s what she’d say if she was here.

I knew snow was a possibility today, but watching it fall is breathtaking.

All the bridesmaids and groomsmen have made their way down the aisle taking their places, and I stand here physically prepared to get married, but emotionally, my thoughts are far from where I stand.

I focus on the beauty created for Anastasia and I today.

The mountain view behind us, with the slopes visible to the human eye.

I can see the trails so perfectly carved out from the trees.

The oversized arch filled with hundreds of red roses I stand under now glistens with the light snow coming down over them.

One hand folded in the other, looking down, I try to remain still in the moment, awaiting my bride to walk down with her mother and father.

Seeing her will wipe all my doubt away—I hope.

The music starts to play.

Taking in a deep breath, I glance out at the walkway, looking at the small spruce trees lining the path for her, decorated with perfectly placed roses, adding to the thousands of others surrounding us, as she turns the corner.

“My god, is she stunning, ”

I mutter under my breath, a smile appearing on my face as I look down at her and all she is.

All the reasons I chose her replacing the ones of Ivy: her grace, certainty, wit, sense of humor, and her kindness, before all the things she is not start flooding my mind—who she is not.

“Wow, bro.”

Maikel nudges me, his shoulder colliding with mine, knocking me out of my trance, pulling me back into this moment between her and me and all that have come to share it with us.

“Who gives away this woman?”

the preacher questions.

“We do,”

Mr. and Mrs. Costilla reply before taking her hand and placing it in mine.

“You look stunning,”

I whisper to her before squeezing her hands in endearment and approval.

“Gracias, Mi Amor,”

Anastasia replies, her shoulders shooting to the sky as she grips my hands a little tighter, her red lipstick curving up her face as she releases a smile followed by a squeal of excitement. She is beaming from ear to ear.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the love between Tayden and Anastasia. Marriage is a sacred bond between two people, forged in the fires of understanding, respect, sacrifice, eternal love, and loyalty,”

the preacher continues.

I start looking around the moment loyalty leaves his lips, glaring out into the sea of guests staring at me like they know, and I feel bare, seen. The words take me back as I search for my guilty pleasure amongst them all, Ivy.

She’s not out there, Tayden. She’s not coming to comfort you in your decision. She’s not coming to object and confess her desires.

“Marriage is the dependence on one another to navigate life and all you hold dear within it forever. Although the road may not always be clear, your promise to each other is that clarity within the stormiest of days. Before we begin, does anyone have a reason as to why these two should not be wed?”

The preacher pauses.

Looking up, I glance around, wiping the beads of sweat from my forehead at the thought of her barging down the aisle in protest.

I wouldn’t ever want Ivy to stop my wedding, nor would I expect her to, but a small part of me wishes she would.

The other part knows I’m doing what’s best for me, for my future, for normalcy.

Anastasia will make a great mother.

She has already proven that in her role as a stepmother figure to Laila.

Although it may not be wave-crashing, fire-igniting love, it is consistent, dependable, and still more than most have in their lifetime.

I am a lucky man.

This I know to be true. Yet I can’t help but feel so fucking unlucky.

I feel my heartbeat starting to settle with the lack of objections; relief and sadness both flow through my veins as the preacher continues.

“What is true love? Well, it is love, but even more, it is a bond that is forever. It is never changing; true love is like a link between the root, the heart, and the soul of two people that keep them adjoined forever.”

I look up at the preacher, recognizing these words.

Although they are neither mine nor hers, they are those of Ivy’s.

I glance at Anastasia, wearing the biggest smile across her face, as fear overtakes mine, pure dread.

Did she read the texts? Does she know? Surely not .

She wouldn’t come all this way to call me out on our wedding day in front of everyone we hold dear.

That’s not in her or how she operates; her father and family, yes , but not her.

She would never embarrass herself this way.

She tilts her head, squeezing my hands, and then it hits me.

I wrote these words down a few years ago in my home office.

I always had to clear Ivy and Red’s texts in fear of Anastasia ever seeing them, but this one thing she wrote I wanted to remember forever and always have the ability to go back to it when I felt I needed to hear her words.

Ivy always had a way with words when she wrote them out.

Red’s ability was always in person.

Anastasia must have found it and assumed I wrote it.

This is what happens when you live two different lives and love two different women in two different ways.

They eventually collide, and your childhood crush turned lifelong lover’s words are read at your wedding at the request of your fiancé unbeknownst to her.

Of all the business transactions I’ve made over the years, this is certainly the hardest one yet.

I have made this a transaction for all the reasons I am marrying Anastasia, but I do love her, just not the kind I know and crave so desperately with my past.

I glance away into the crowd as the tears start to pull at my eyes, my body tenses, trying with everything in my power to keep it together.

Anastasia will assume I am crying in happiness for my appreciation of her words, which they are not.

Tears pour as I feel I am in mourning for a greater love.

My worlds collide as I catch a glimpse of the back row.

There she sits—Red.

I’m not sure when she arrived, but relief settles in me as I see her long blonde hair cascading down this beautiful V-neck long-sleeve red dress that could take a man out.

She came; just breathe.

You two will make it through this as well.

You are more than lovers; you are best friends —forever and through.

The preacher’s words pull me back in.

“It is not fazed by time or feeling; it cannot be altered by circumstance or distance.

It is infinite.

When you have that with someone, the energy flows continuously and feeds both involved in that bond together over and over as an infinite replenishment of love.”

I look back up to Ivy, shooting a half smile her way, watching her stand, raising a champagne glass to me accompanied with a nod, acknowledging and accepting the decision I have made before she walks away, the slit extending up her thigh, exposing her long soft legs that on any other day I’d prefer wrapped around my face before she is no longer in my line of sight, and in a second, my soul shatters the tears uncontrollably building, pleading for release.

Turning back to Anastasia, the preacher continues withMi Amor’s words.

“True love is not something to barter, or an achievement, nor something you go after to obtain; it just happens.

True love cannot be monetized in any form.

It is its own existence within the universe.

It is timeless, untamed, and unintentional.

True love has no intent; it just is.

It’s like a precious stone everyone always wants to find, but many never get to hold.”

Fuck, it’s so true but I fucking have, I know what that love feels like.

The ache in you it creates.

The holes it heals.

Off in the distance, the sweet purr of the 763 horsepower red vintage 959 Porsche I purchased for Red a few years back after we had started talking again.

I’ll never forget the smile on her face when I surprised her with it.

Ivy was never into materialistic things.

Even as her wealth grew, she tended to always do more with it for others than for herself.

Buying her that car was me doing for her what she would never do for herself.

Like she did for me just a few months back.

Even more, it was a part of me gifted to her.

She’s never been into cars further than fucking in them, but she did appreciate all I loved about cars, and tried to love them in her own way.Fuck, she learned Formula One for me.

She learned my business for me.

She learned me for me; to always help me be a better version of myself.

I’m not sure what her showing up meant, but I find comfort in her short appearance.

“Anastasia, do you take Tayden to be your lawful wedded husband?”

“I do,”

she replies.

“And Tayden, do you take Anastasia to be your lawful wedded wife?”

My throat dries as I try to speak the simplest of words. I do, say you do.

Suddenly, sounds of locked breaks, bending metal, and shattering glass take over the stillness of the winter day.Gasps from all in attendance form, our heads shooting in the direction of the sounds. Smoke fills the air, and my face turns white, unsure of who it is or what has happened. Something has gone very wrong close by, and to continue with this wedding without attending aid would be even more unethical than my marriage to Anastasia.

Instinct kicks in as I start trekking through the snow racing towards it, the smoke in the air my guide.

Fear takes over me like I’ve never felt in my life, afraid I will find something I am not prepared to see, fear of whether it is her or some random person driving by.

My panic grows with every step I take, racing into the unknown. I know others are behind me, but I don’t even glance back.

I race like the Devil himself is chasing me. I finally make it close enough, and my worst fear is confirmed as I lay eyes on Ivy’s car wrapped up under an eighteen-wheeler, completely demolished and entangled within the wheels.

The quiet in the air is eerie and haunting. I rush over to her car, trying with all my strength to pry open the door, but it won’t budge. I scream at her, “IVY! Ivy, wake up.”

Ripping my jacket off, I attempt to dislodge the door with my bare hands, pushing back my exhaustion. I steady one foot on the frame of the door as leverage, using my hands to grab onto the shredded door once more, grunting with each attempt to pry it open. I fail again, until suddenly, I hear my father and Maikel behind me. “Tayden, move your hands down. If we all pull at the same time, we have a chance.”

I move my hands down making room.

“One, two, three, pull.”

Screams explode from my lungs using all my force, tears flooding from my eyes, my vision all a blur at this point. I am on instinct, fueled by desperation. On the sixth pull, the door finally opens. I reach in, wrapping Ivy up in my arms. A crowd filled with wedding guests, workers, and traffic has formed. I’m fucking broken, in complete disarray, holding my past, unsure if she is even alive. “Get back, get away from her,”I shout.

Falling to the ground, laying her across me, I brush her blonde-as-the-snow hair away from her face, blood trailing down her forehead, forming a river down her cheek. I hear my fiancé’s voice call to the crowd.

“Someone call 911!”

Her voice snaps me out of my rage momentarily as I look up to her, she’s full of confusion and so many questions, but I have no concern for her needs at this moment, just Ivy’s.

I snuggle my face into her limp body, shaking her, begging her to wake up.

“Come on Ives, wake up.

I am sorry.

I’m sorry for it all, just please don’t leave, you hear me? Don’t leave me, not like this. You fucking wake up, little flame. Fight, baby. Fight like you always have.”

Glass-shattering screams at the top of my lungs echo through the tall pines as I hold her fragile body, the wind blowing her beautiful red dress as snowflakes drop down on us, soaking up her blood as they hit her body, her blood becoming one with the cold, tragically.

Her arms are limp and lifeless.

I fall back, continuing to embrace her lifeless body, begging for this to not be the end, our end, but she is gone and not breathing.

Refusing to give up, I lay her in the snow, starting CPR, pushing on her chest, and pausing only to share the oxygen within my lungs with hers, her lips turning colder.

“You fight, Ivy. You fucking fight for me. You fight for you. You fight for Liam. Fight for us. Come on now, fight dammit. That little girl didn’t become the woman you are today by giving up. Fight, baby , just fucking fight! ”

I yell out to her, pleading to her, to whomever, to just save her.

Suddenly, a hand touches my shoulder. Wiping the snot and tears from my face, I turn, looking up, my father standing above me, looking back at me, tears filling his eyes, as he realizes who lies in my arms. “She’s gone, son.”

Glaring up at him, I shout back, “No, you don’t get to do that, not this time. I say when now, not you. Not ever, you hear me, Mr. Bergess? Not fucking ever!”

The sirens in the distance close in as I lay there holding the love of my life that I never allowed myself to have, crying out to the sky, shaking her viciously in my hold as I beg “Take me. Here I fucking am. Take me. Take it all. I beg of you, just please, not her. Don’t fucking take her. Don’t take my Ivy, my little flame.”

My roars travel with the wind. I’m a deranged man, a lost, broken fucking man.

Looking back down at her, my tears falling on her olive skin as I wrap my hands in her hair, lifting her to me as I lean down kissing her, her lips cold and frozen.

Her hand falls off to her side onto the blood-stained snow from her injuries, and my heart shatters further as I see that cheap Gatti-Town smiley face ring I had given to her so many years ago when we were just kids, in love and unphased by what our future would hold, as long as we had each other.

My hand wraps around hers; the ring, finally where it has always belonged, bound between our hands, uniting our souls.

Forever and through, Mi Amor. I love you Ivy Sage Rutledge.

“There was someone else in that car,”

a voice screams from the crowd.

I look back, spotting the person behind the voice. He’s wearing a red valet vest. He must have been the one who escorted her into her car.

Who the fuck would it have been? Liam? Who would she have with her? I race back to the car, searching it over again.

I could have missed something, my focus only having been on Ivy, but I come up empty-handed.

There is nobody else in the tattered car.

Just as I’m about to think he’s crazy, the shattered hole in the windshield catches my eye.

There was someone else.

They must have been thrown before the car got sucked up under the eighteen wheeler’s wheels.

“Check everywhere,”

I yell to the crowd. “There is someone else, somewhere.”

My father gasps out, “I’ll stay with her.”

My eyes darken, glaring past him as if he doesn’t even exist.

“Don’t you fucking touch her. I swear to fucking god, it will be the last thing you will ever do,”

I bite, my finger dead in his face, my eyes telling my mom to go to her.

All in attendance begin scavenging the area, yelling out, with pauses in hopes of hearing someone call back to us, assuming they are even alive.

Leaving the love of my life, I shuffle through the snow yelling out, “Make any type of noise so we can find you.”

“Liam, Olive?”

“Olive, Liam?”

“Say something,”

I shout over and over, hoping to hear a reply.

My heart is broken, and I have no strength left to give, but I can’t stop.Confusion is written on my face as I search.

Ivy doesn’t have friends; she stays to herself, so Olive and Liam keep coming to mind, causing me more panic as I continue to call out their names.

The world already lost the most beautiful woman with the purest soul.

I cannot handle another tragedy today, fuck, I need a win.

Now, mere inches from the tree line, I see something in the snow.

Reaching them, my legs give out, my body collapsing from above, and all I see is Red.

Dear Dairy,

Date: The night before the wedding

We are all honorable in dishonorable bodies.

Tayden and I have proved that our entire lives.

It IS possible to be an honorable human with deceitful traits.

Perfection is a mere figment of all’s imagination who claim to encompass it, and insanity for those who spend their days and nights searching for it.

It’s ironic how the human mind works.

You put someone in front of a mirror, and all they pay attention to is what’s right in front of them, the thing that takes up the most space, never looking at the surroundings or the smaller objects that are shared within its space.

My whole life has been a mirror, playing tricks, taking advantage of that human downfall, twisting and turning through life with everyone seeing me and not all the things shared within my space.

It’s been my survival.

I know it sounds warped and twisted; however, if it weren’t for the chess-playing humans who raised me, I would have never learned this.

Nor would I be able to make my next move.

For one can’t claim solidarity without the other’s consent.

I never agreed.

It was never in agreeance, but if it is, then…. well… Cheers! Let’s burn this fucking candle.

Checkmate Bitch

-RED

Queen pawn to D3, King pawn E4, Queen H5.