When I Was Yours (Page 52)

“You’re being a butthead,” Evie whispers as soon as the door is shut.

“Did you just seriously call me a butthead?” I laugh. “And I’m not being a butthead, babe.”

“You are. You’re being sarcastic and, quite frankly, snobby. I know this place is a little different, but we chose it. And Trixie is being really kind to us. So, stop being an ass, and just be nice.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” I give her puppy-dog eyes. “I’m being an ass and a butthead and a snob. And I really fucking hate snobs. Forgive me, babe.” I brush my fingers over her cheek.

She lets out a soft sigh. “There’s nothing to forgive.” She leans close and gently kisses me.

“Right, kids, we’re ready for you!” The sound of Trixie’s clapping hands startles us both.

I glance from Trixie and back to Evie, my lips lifting into a smile. “You ready to get married?”

Her eyes shine with happiness, and it makes my heart feel like it’s going to explode.

“More than ready.”

I take her hand in mine, helping her to her feet, and then we follow Trixie to the chapel.

I thought I’d be nervous, walking to the chapel to get married, but I don’t feel nervous at all.

I just feel ready and happy, the happiest I’ve ever felt.

“Okay, so, Adam, you come up to the altar with me.” Trixie comes to a stop by a set of red double doors. “Evie, you wait here. When the music starts playing, you come through the door and make your way up the aisle as fast or as slow as you like. Okay?”

“Okay,” we both answer at the same time.

Trixie hands Evie her bouquet.

“See you at the altar, babe.” I wink at Evie.

I follow Trixie up the aisle to where our minister, Ike, is.

Apart from sporting a mullet and leather wristbands, Ike looks fairly normal—he’s wearing a black suit and tie. To be honest I was half-expecting him to be wearing leather pants and no shirt.

Ike introduces himself and then gives me a quick rundown on the proceedings. Then, I’m introduced to our other witness, Nigel, the Jon Bon Jovi impersonator. And he looks nothing like Jon Bon Jovi.

I’ve got to say that I never thought I’d be getting married with a Jon Bon Jovi impersonator standing beside me. But, honestly, I don’t care. All I care about is that Evie’s here, and she’s about to become mine for real.

“Ready?” Trixie ask me.

I press my hand to the ring box in my pocket. Then, I give her a nod.

She lifts a remote in her hand, and the humming sounds of the intro to “Livin’ on a Prayer” begins.

Evie appears and begins walking up the aisle.

She has never looked more beautiful to me. Seeing her like this, walking toward me, about to become my wife, literally takes my breath away. I know it sounds cliché, but I don’t care.

Her eyes meet mine, and she smiles.

And the world narrows down to the beautiful girl coming toward me. For some crazy reason, she sees something in me. She loves me and wants me forever.

And, God, do I want her.

I’ve never wanted anything more. And I know as long as I have Evie, my life will be as perfect as she is.

Adam kept everything, everything that was me…that was us.

Now, he’s caught me in here, like I’m some sneaky person, and he’s stormed off, angry. I feel like I’ve intruded in on his private thoughts, a secret I was never meant to see.

I only came in here because nostalgia pulled me here. I just wanted to remember for a while.

Then, I opened the door and saw everything. So many of my sketches that I gave to him are framed and hanging on the wall, including the first one I ever drew of him, which is hanging in the center.

My easel is set up by the window, like it never left. My sketchpad that I left behind is on the table. Beside it are unfinished sketches. My pencils, the ones he bought me, are in their holder.

Our wedding rings are on the dresser. Our wedding picture is in the frame that Max bought us as a gift. The pendant I bought Adam for his birthday is hanging over the corner of the frame.

And my wedding dress has been hanging in the closet, the only thing in there.

The room is filled with him and me, our past, and I need to know what this means.

Why did he keep these things? Why does he still have them after all these years? And why keep them in this room of all places? In his old bedroom where so many of our memories were made?

I have to talk to him.

I put my wedding dress back where I found it and leave the room.

His bedroom door is open, but he’s not in there.

I head down the stairs. Turning into the living room, I see him standing at the glass doors, his back to me, as he is staring out at the twilight sky.


His whole body stiffens at the sound of my voice. On quiet feet, I move across the wood floor toward him.

When I reach him, I stop just a step away. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t prying, I swear. I only went in there because…memories, you know. I just wanted to remember the good times. I had no idea…all those things…our things…were in there.”

I tentatively lift my hand. Carefully, I touch his back with the tips of my fingers. “You kept…everything. Why?”

He spins around. Grabbing my wrist, he yanks me to him, so my chest slams into his, forcing the air out of me. He stares down at me, a mixture of hurt and anger and frustration in his eyes. “I don’t want to talk. I just…” He squeezes his eyes shut. Then, they flash back open, and without another word, he slams his lips down on mine.

Even though kissing him is probably the wrong thing to do right now, I don’t stop him. If anything, I encourage it.

Just the feel of his mouth on mine…it’s like I’m finally breathing again after being underwater for too long.

Adam’s an addiction I could never give up.

I wrap my arms around his neck, parting my lips, letting his tongue have the entry it’s seeking.

He kisses me rough, frantic. His hands are everywhere, like he can’t touch enough of me.

Spinning me around, he pushes me against the wall. “I need to be inside you.” He breathes heavily against my mouth. “I just fucking…need…you, Evie.”

His words are my undoing.

His fingers skim my thighs. He takes hold of the hem of my dress. Bunching it up in his hands, he pulls it up and over my head.

I rip his shirt off, sending buttons scattering everywhere.

That’s when things get a little crazy.

Literally tearing off my bra, he slips his fingers into the cups, curling his hands into fists around it, and rips my bra in half. He shoves it off my shoulders, and I shake it the rest of the way to the floor.

I can’t even bring myself to care that he’s just shredded my new bra, the one I bought with the matching panties, which also just lost their life to his hands.

The silky material floats to the floor, landing on my bare feet, and I kick it away.

We both go for the button on his jeans at the same time. He lets me undo it.

I yank the zipper down, loving the sound it makes. It gives me chills, knowing that I’m that much closer to having him inside me. His eyes watch me the whole time.

When I have his jeans open, Adam shoves them down over his hips. That’s when I see he’s commando underneath them.