One would assume many things go through the mind of a bride on the eve of her wedding. Surely, most would fret over rain or the dress not fitting. But I was not an ordinary bride. From appearances, all seemed normal. The lovely, doting fiancé who was deeply in love with me. The joy-filled families were ecstatic at such a handsome match of two families. I was the envy of all the eligible women in town. And I myself was hopelessly, endlessly in love. A love so deep that the mere thought of my lover would send my heart racing so fast that I could hear nothing but the pound of my own heart. That was the sound that filled me as I neared him. In just his presence, he sent me lightheaded and dry-mouthed. I was drawn to him and bound to him forever.

"What are you doing here, Red?" His words came as a growl from across the dimly lit garage.

The humidity of the August evening spread a sheen of sweat over his torso, causing his t-shirt to cling to every ripple of his muscles.

"I..." Looking at him caused my words to choke and my thoughts to strangle.

"Isn't tomorrow the big day?" His voice was lighter now, apologetic, as he threw a dirty rag into a pail and turned away from me.

He knew; he knew that when he looked at me with that burning in his eyes, I was his. Even with his back to me, my eyes clung to his strong back. I wanted to run to him. I wanted one last touch, one last kiss, one last everything. But it was more than a want. It burned through me like a fire ripping through dry tinder. It was wild and unstoppable, and only he could save me.

He turned again, his eyes catching my lustful gaze. A crooked smirk crossed his face, pleased at that small hold he still had over me.

"You're a good woman, Angie. You're making the right decision." He nodded. "Lucas Turner is a respectable man. He'll take good care of you."

"But I don't love him," I argued.

Jack's shoulders rounded with a deflating exhale. He was tired, tired of this same conversation, tired of pushing me away, tired of losing.

"Angie, I'm not the man for you," he reminded me.

"Tell me you don't love me," I pressed, knowing he could never bring himself to be so cruel. "Say it, Jack, and I will walk down the aisle tomorrow with a clear mind and open heart."

"Clear mind and open heart?" He let out a chuckle.

"Don't tease me, Jackie, not today."

I tried to close the gap between us but tripped. In a flash, he was there, catching me just like when we were kids. My face buried into his chest before he could fully right-size me. I reveled in his musk before he peeled me from him.

"Angie..." The war between his mind and heart pulled his voice to a whisper.

"Jackie," I gazed up at his dark brown eyes for possibly the last time.

"I don't love you," he growled, but he as did he lifted me to the car behind us.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him into me. His lips sunk to my neck, sending the burn within me to my flesh.

"I'm not the man for you," he continued as his mouth moved to my clavicle and his hand fought with the buttons of my blouse.

I threw my head back, allowing him full access to whatever he wanted. I needed him. I needed to feel his flesh on mine, for him to engulf me.

"Stop me," he begged, but at the same time, his fight with my shirt proved too irritating. With one swift movement, he tore it off, sending delicate white buttons scurrying across the floor like mice running from a cat.

"I need you," I managed as I clung to his neck.

"You've never needed me," he protested before his mouth sucked in one of my nipples, only to release it a moment later. He let a small puff of his breath blow over it, causing it to pebble before him and then turned to my other breast.

"I've always needed you." As I protested, I pulled myself even closer, feeling him hard and ready against me.

A moment of morality paused him. "You're marrying another man tomorrow." His head bowed as the tips of his chocolate brown hair tickled my chest, but no laugh escaped me.

"Only because you refused me. All I have left is the chance of one last memory," I reminded him.

"Is that what I am? Am I a memory?"

"That's what you've made yourself. I will never love Lucas. You know that. I have always and will always love you."

Jack pulled away, ripping off his own shirt and tossing it at me. "In the war of the prince and the pauper, the prince always wins," he noted before returning to cleaning his tools.

"You are not a pauper, and he is no prince," I argued.

"Then why did you agree?"

"Because..." The answer screamed in my head. "Because you didn't ask."

"I didn't ask because you deserve more than barely scraping by in life. You deserve the big house and fancy cars. You deserve the world. He can give you that. All I can offer is grease stains and heartache."

"Well, you've certainly lived up to that goal," I murmured as I slid from the car.

"Angie," he called after me, but I didn't turn. I couldn't see him. If I had stopped, if I had even stuttered in my stride, I never would have walked away. But at every pace, I knew I was not just leaving Jack Scott; I was leaving my heart behind and welcoming the silence that the whole created.

WC 981