Damn the Day I Met You

Dresses and suits surrounded me. The smell of alcohol and sweat was clear in the air. Chatter and gossip was heard at every corner while the music was barely heard in the backgrounds. And all I could think about was him.

It had been about eight months since I came home and I still wasn’t used to this life again. Fake smiles, champagne, and gossip; it never changed. Worse was that these shindigs reminded me time and time again of Tristan.

“You know,” my best friend, partner in crime, and guest of honor, Anne, sneaks up behind me. “The Maid of Honor is at least supposed to fake happiness at her best friends, aka the brides, wedding.”

A slight smile appears on my face, “I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not. But it’s okay. Let’s just say I’m not exactly going to make you do a toast tonight.”

I shove her lightly and laugh a little, “I can do a speech. I’ll just tell a few stories, see how your future in-laws feel about you then.” Anne was becoming family. Or at least as close to family as it gets. Dakota and Finn’s oldest son David fell head over heels for Anne a couple years ago. She was my roommate in college and I brought her home one weekend. I haven’t been able to separate them since. So really, embarrassing her would be easy.

“You don’t have the guts.”

“Wanna bet?”

She shakes her head laughing, “It’s good to have you home Katie. We’ve missed you over here.”

“I know.”

“And if any of this, any of it at all, gets too painful—”

“Anne, I’m fine. I wasn’t even thinking about him until you brought it up.”

She smirks, “sure you weren’t.” Someone calls for her from across the room and she excuses herself. I move myself to the back corner and sip my champagne, watching the rest of the party go on.

I hadn’t heard from Tristan since the day he walked out. I thought about him daily, hourly at that, but had no way to reach him. Lucy wouldn’t tell me, nor would my parents. I’m still getting used to her being here in the US, but I also understand why my parents did what they did. Even by adopting her, I’m sure they feel guilty for past events. I thought I’d be able to get it out of them by now but I’ve had no luck.

Not that I would even know what to say. ‘I’m sorry,’ just doesn’t cut it in this case. And maybe I haven’t found him because I’m still drowned in fear. What if he’s moved on? What if he rejects me like I have him? I deserve it, that’s for sure. I’ve left him more than once now. Three strikes you’re out, right?

To think this could be my party right now. That’s why Anne was giving me an out. That’s why it seemed no one bothered to talk to me. Those who knew what happened knew that anything wedding-related would be painful. I wasn’t even engaged and the thought of marriage makes me sad.

Soon my glass of champagne didn’t feel like enough and the bartender was handing out what I felt were watered down drinks. But I needed something stronger, something to warm my nerves.

“Finn!” I call out to my uncle who was walking by. To be technical he was my godfather but I never used that term.

He headed my way, a goofy grin on his face. “Since when did you drop the uncle?”

I chuckle, “since I was like five.”

“It still has a nice ring to it. What can I do for you m’dear?

“Please tell me there is actual liquor in your kitchen. This bartender isn’t giving me much.”

It was Finns turn to laugh at me, “Weddings huh? They do kind of suck. You’ll find everything you need in the kitchen. Just be cautious of the chef, I hear he hates weddings too.”

“Maybe he’ll be my soulmate then.” I joke lightly, turning in the direction of the kitchen.

“Just go get your drink before the speeches start.” I groan at the reminder and make my way to the kitchen. There were champagne glasses lined up everywhere, ready to be served for the toasts. And in the far corner were a stack of plates that were waiting on the cake. It was all nice and organized, just like any wedding caterer should be. Speaking of, where was this wedding-hating chef? He didn’t seem to be around. I grab a bottle of scotch and a glass of started towards the library.

The sound of a tray hitting the ground stopped me in my tacks. I didn’t turn around, not instantly. But the voice behind the ‘shit’ that came soon after made me do a full 180. My breath caught in my throat and I couldn’t move. Frozen in spot, I continued to stare at the one man I swore I would never see again. The one person who would never leave my head these days. The reason this shindig was the worst thing ever.

Standing there in a crisp white chef’s jacket, holding a now empty tray, was the one and only Tristan Bertina. I didn’t know what to do. Should I run and pretend this didn’t happen? That honestly sounded like a pretty good idea. “The party is outside miss.” Tristan’s voice woke me from my thoughts. Of course the party was outside. Did he think I was an idiot? I was standing there with a bottle of scotch trying to get away from said party. “You should make your way back to it.”

I gulp, still speechless at the whole scene. Maybe he was right; maybe I should just take a deep breath and go back outside. But how could I function knowing he was standing a mere 100 feet away from me? Was I supposed to be okay in this situation? Of course I was. I broke up with him, not the other way around. But here he was. All calm and collected, giving me what may be the best advice ever.

Or it may be the worse. Why was he trying to get rid of me? Did he find someone else, or was it just too painful to see me? I decided to go with the latter thought, knowing that it gave me more options. “Why is it that people keep telling me what to do?”

“All I know is that I was told to make sure everyone stayed outside.”

“Well I’m not everyone. I’m family. I grew up in this house. And I’m not about to go back out into that fiasco because some stupid Italian chef was told to keep everyone out.” It was true enough. I did spend a bit of my younger years living here before my mom found an apartment. Not that I remembered those times, but it happened. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need this drink more now than I thought.”

Before I could get too far away, Tristan grabbed my wrist. We both froze as the comforting tingles flew through us. I don’t think he knew what he was doing. I don’t think he planned on grabbing me like that or even stopping me from walking away. Hell I know neither of us thought we would run into each other. Especially today of all days. “I’m not going to let you go drink your pain away. Not when I’m to blame about said pain,” Tristan finally voices.

I laugh dryly, “don’t flatter yourself, this is hardly your fault. This pain has my own name written all over it. Maybe a bit of my fathers, but mainly my own. You, sadly, did nothing wrong.”

“Katie—” Tristan says, just as I hear my aunts voice above the crowd also calling my name. I look between the two, not knowing which nightmare was worse. Talking with Tristan or giving a speech about love when clearly that wasn’t working out for me. And so I did the only logical thing I could come up with; I put the bottle down and I ran.