Page 128 of Merry Fake Bride

An apology rests on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t bring myself to say it yet as the sheer weight of the evening crushes me. I sit down slowly on the couch.

“Tell me everything," I say as Devon slowly sits across from me on the other side of the coffee table. “Please.”

Her fingers twist together and she nods, then she rubs at her teary eyes.

“No point keeping it a secret, I guess,” she murmurs. “You’ve already seen what he’s done to me.”

The scars across her back leap to the front of my mind. “That was him?”

She nods, unable to look at me.

“I moved to L.A. because I hated it here. I thought small towns were boring and New York was cliché. I was going to become this fancy accountant for a big firm, earn enough money that I only worked for three days a week and could spend the rest of it on the beach. But then I met Axel and everything changed. I just…”

Her mouth twists to the side. “I can’t pinpoint how. One day, everything was fine, and then the next day, I woke up and I was so alone. I hadn’t spoken to my parents in years, I hadn’t contacted any of my friends. All I did was work a shitty job and come home. Axel was my only social interaction. He never let me go anywhere alone. He’d drive me to and from work, he was jealous and snapped so easily. And the first time he hit me, I ended up comforting him and I don’t know how it happened.”

My heart beats slowly as the picture Devon paints grows before me.

“And then it was routine. I was too loud, too obnoxious, too rude, too fat. I was ugly, I spent too long speaking to the delivery guy, I looked at the neighbor across the hall. He always made me feel so guilty, and then things changed. He stopped slapping me and suddenly he was p–punching me. Throwing me around into furniture when he lost money at the track or couldn’t secure an interview. The cigarettes were because he didn’t like to get out of bed and I was a better ashtray. He broke my wrist twice, he?—”

She stops talking suddenly, and every fiber of my being wants to reach out to her, but I refrain.

Devon’s in a place where she feels she can talk and I don’t want to disturb that.

“I got away because he started fucking some other girl and one night, I thought he was going to kill me. He had this knife and his hands around my throat, and I was so sure?—”

She lightly touches her throat. “But she called him and he got distracted, so I left. I just ran and ran and ran and then when I could, I bought a ticket to France and abandoned the card.”

An odd sense of calm washes over me, like my anger has settled into my bones and my fate has been sealed.

“I never wanted to see him again. I never thought I would. I never told him where I came from so coming back to my parents felt safe. I was just going to keep my head down, help them save their bakery, and then that would be it. But then you came along and everything is all so…”

Her hand covers her mouth suddenly as a dry sob escapes her. “How have I created such a disaster so quickly? How did I do this? How could I not see this coming?”

“Devon.” Unable to stay away from her, I move to her couch and sit next to her. “Devon, take a deep breath.”

“I’m so sorry!” She looks up at me with wild eyes.

“I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I? Just like he said I would! I’ve ruined your company and your life, and your Mom’s too. Oh, God, you’re going to go to jail and it’s all my fault. The whole world is going to know and it’s my fault, and he’ll never stop hunting me down, will he?”

“Devon!” It pains me to raise my voice, but it’s just enough to get her attention.

When her eyes lock back into mine with tears rolling down her cheeks, I take her hand gently. “Breathe for me, Devon. Just breathe.”

She does, and after a few minutes she begins to calm down. Her eyes flutter closed and she gasps repeatedly.

We’re interrupted briefly by Martin who tells me Mom sent a crisis team and they’re in the lobby.

I order him to get rid of them, which he does. I don’t give a shit about the company or my reputation.

All I care about is the woman I love who has fallen into a hell made worse by my own mother.

“Devon, I want you to listen to me, okay? I need you to tell me something.”

She clutches at my hand and nods through her tears. “Anything.”

“Is he telling the truth about your being married?”

She shakes her head and then shrugs.