Rejecting My Secret Lover At The Altar

After five years as his secret, his shadow, I watched him announce at a family dinner that he was bringing his girlfriend to meet us.

My heart swelled with a foolish hope that this was the dramatic moment hed chosen to finally make us public. I never expected him to actually bring another woman.

He had his arm wrapped around her, grinning like hed won the lottery.

"Come on, Jordan," he said, the old pet name sounding foreign on his tongue. "Say hello to your new sister-in-law."

After the woman left, he gave me a ride home, just as he had countless times before. In the plush back seat of his luxury sedan, the place where our absurd, secret life had unfolded, I finally asked him.

"Landon Montgomery," I whispered, the name a raw accusation. "You have a girlfriend now. What was my five years of waiting, then?"

The hand gripping the steering wheel tightened, a brief, sharp tremor.

"Waiting?" He didn't look at me. "Did I ever ask you to wait?"

He finally turned, his expression carefully bland. "Jordan, maybe don't get so hopelessly attached to people in the future. Its honestly a little terrifying."

He said it so carelessly, so dismissively, as if the five years Id sacrificed everything for had been my own ridiculous fault. I suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of fatigue. I smiled, a cold, empty thing.

"Fine. Then goodbye, Landon."

01

Under the dim streetlights, Landon leaned against his car, finishing his last cigarette.

He ground the butt out with his Italian leather shoe. In the last five minutes, hed checked his phone ten times and sent nine voice messages to the woman he'd just dropped off. His final text, I knew, was to his sistermy best friend, Sashaassuring her he'd delivered me home safe.

Landon lowered his phone and turned to me, a lingering trace of a smile from his other conversations still on his face. He seemed pleased, which made his tone light and easy.

"Look, Jordy, you're all grown up. You know what they say about adult breakups. Clean and simple, right?"

He reached out and ruffled my hair, an intimate, brotherly gesture that completely belied the seriousness of the conversation. It was a final, damning sign that he had never once taken me seriously.

He hadn't even been serious the night we started. Five years ago, Id gotten drunk, and wed ended up in his bed.

The next morning, hed sat against the headboard, smoking a cigarette, the smoke curling and obscuring his handsome, flippant face. "You like me?"

I'd nodded, panicked, but my fear was met with his easy, cynical laugh.

"Sure, lets go with it."

He added, almost as an afterthought, "But we can't tell Sasha. Shed probably take a knife to me if she knew."

He said it so casually, but I took it as gospel. From that day on, I lived in his shadow, a pathetic fixture in his life, feeling like an accessory he was too lazy to discard. I thought time would eventually make me special. I was horribly, devastatingly wrong. He continued his circuit of women, and I was merely a convenient, secret toy.

I stared at the ground, catching the glint of his phone screen as he sent yet another text. The person hed saved as "Girlfriend" had, I knew, only gotten his number at a bar two days ago.

I pressed down the acidic burn in my chest, took several deep, shaky breaths, and asked the question Id been terrified to utter for five years.

"Landon, why was everyone an option for you... but me?"

Landon froze, then sighed, a sound of genuine, yet self-pitying, annoyance.

"Its not that you can't be, exactly... Its just, I regretted getting involved that first night." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "I tried for five years to see you as a normal woman. I couldn't."

He looked at me then, his eyes dark and complex, both intensely present and utterly detached. "It's like... every other woman was a viable option for me, except for the one right here."

On the silent, empty street, his rare moment of honesty felt like the cruelest cut. I immediately averted my gaze, terrified that he would see the sudden, hot sting of tears.

"I understand," I mumbled, pulling my composure back like a heavy blanket. "Thank you for the ride home, big brother. It's late. I should go up."

I turned to leave, but his hand shot out and clasped my wrist.

Landon gently wiped a tear I hadn't even realized had fallen. He wore a look that said, 'Of course, I knew this was coming.'

"Why the waterworks? Why not try to fight for me, then? Stick around?" He grinned, a predator playing with its food. "Maybe, for Sashas sake, Id keep you amused for a little while longer."

It was a sick kind of temptation, but I couldn't fall for it again. The corner of a small, square package pressed against his jacket pocketa silent, sickening reminder of the necessities he kept for his other dates.

I pulled my hand back and took a resolute step away. I made sure my voice was calm.

"No, thank you, big brother. I hope you have a fun night."

Without looking back at his face, I walked quickly toward the gates. My rough, uneven breathing condensed into clouds in the cold night air. I'd thought I was done with crying. But once I was inside and had unlocked my door, I went straight to the balcony.

Landon was still standing by his car, staring at the apartment building. I knew he was waiting for the light in my room to come on, his perverse way of feeling absolved before he left to see Brittany.

How dare he? How could he hurt me so carelessly and then wait around to collect his peace of mind?

I yanked the curtains closed, slid down the wall, and finally, completely, gave in. I sobbed until my throat was raw, releasing five years of humiliation, betrayal, and unrequited devotion.

A notification chimed. It was Landon.

[Jordy, take advantage of being young. Go travel, go see things.]

[There are plenty of good guys out there. Don't waste yourself on one tree.]

[Get some rest.]

In the darkness, the three perfect, impersonal messages seemed so utterly ridiculous, so fundamentally Landon. My five-year obsession, that deep, humiliating anchor, finally snapped with those three vapid sentences.

I wiped my eyes, grabbed my phone, and typed back one final message.

[I will. Thank you.]

Then, I immediately called my mother.

"Mom? The arrangement with Theodore Brooks? The wedding? I accept. Seven days from now."

02

After hanging up with my mother, I collapsed onto the bed, physically drained. I tried to command my mind to move on, but the control center of my heart had shut down.

I couldn't help but remember the first time Sasha introduced me to Landon.

He was wearing a black track suit that day. When he made a three-pointer, the whole campus erupted in shrieks. But he ran straight to me, took the half-empty water bottle from my hand, and grinned.

He asked Sasha, "Who's this? I don't think I've ever seen this little sister around."

No one could be immune to a first meeting like that. I certainly wasn't. I fell headfirst, completely and utterly.

I broke things off with my family for him, and for him, I accepted five years of being the nameless, unofficial other woman.

I found out much later that my perfect, cinematic meet-cute had just been his standard opening line. Hed said it to every girl Sasha ever brought around.

...

"What? You're getting married?"

It had been three days since I ended things with Landon. Sasha had taken me out to lunch, worried sick over my silence, and I dropped the bombshell.

She stared at me, her brow furrowed with concern. "Jordan, I know you just broke up with whoever that garbage boyfriend of yours was, but you cant just marry some random guy out of spite!"

I smiled, shaking my head. "Do you really think I'm that fragile? This is a decision I've thought through. And hes not just 'some random guy.' Its... well, Theo. Theodore Brooks. It's an arrangement, technically. A childhood engagement our parents never fully let go of."

I wasn't lying. If I hadn't met Landon, I probably would have already been Mrs. Brooks.

Sashas worry didn't abate. She was genuinely concerned for me, the way a best friend should be.

I pinched her cheek. "Stop worrying. You're going to be my maid of honor, remember?"

"Maid of honor for what?"

The door to the private room swung open, and Landon strode in with a lack of ceremony only he could manage. He'd traded up, or at least traded out, for another date. The secret spot next to himthe spot Id desperately wanted for five yearswas, as he'd promised, always open for anyone but me.

Landon stopped in the center of the room, scanning the space before his gaze landed on me.

"Who's getting married?"

I squeezed Sasha's hand to stop her from answering. "It's nothing, Landon. What are you doing here?"

The girl behind him stepped forward, a vision of wide-eyed innocence.

"I made him bring me," she chirped. "I wanted to meet his family and friends. Hi, Im Brittany Miller."

It might have been my imagination, but a flicker of proprietary contempt crossed Brittany's face when she looked at me.

Sasha, bless her oblivious heart, didn't notice, and dragged Brittany to the karaoke machine.

Landon sat beside me, swirling the amber liquid in his glass under the room's soft lighting.

"So, already on the hunt for a rebound?"

I glanced at him. "Are you really that invested in my dating life, big brother?"

He let out a short, dismissive laugh. He leaned closer, watching me with a cynical amusement I recognized too well.

"Just checking up on my after-sales service." He paused, his gaze hardening. "If you cant find anyone, I could always help you vet candidates. Someone totally different from me, of course."

He leaned in further, his voice a low, taunting murmur.

"Someone who wouldn't make you drag yourself out with a fever to deliver his condoms, or parade his rotating door of dates in front of you. Someone whod be devoted. How does that sound?"

I froze, gripping the wine glass. He knew. He knew how agonizing those moments were. He just hadn't cared. He'd watched my pain and treated it as entertainment.

I downed the wine in one gulp, turned back, and met his eyes with a genuine, triumphant smile.

"No need, Landon. I'm getting married."

03

The air in the private room went instantly silent and brittle.

Landons eyes narrowed, his brows drawing into a tight line. A deep, cold anger radiated off him.

"Jordan Wells," he bit out, using my full name. "I dont appreciate that kind of cheap joke."

I simply smiled back, refusing to explain.

At that moment, Brittany approached with a glass of champagne. Whether by accident orI suspectedby very pointed design, she stumbled, and the contents splashed directly onto my white dress.

She gasped, covering her mouth with her hand, a picture of delicate remorse.

"Oh, I'm such a klutz! Sister, are you okay?"

Landons face was dark, but he looked straight at me, his voice sharp with cold displeasure.

"None of your business, Britt. This is what happens when people stand in the way."

"What are you saying, Landon?" Sasha rushed over, planting herself between us. "What does this have to do with Jordan? Youre usually so protective of her. Whats wrong with you today?"

I put a hand on Sasha's arm. "It's fine, Sasha. It doesn't matter."

I ignored Landon's thunderous expression and walked out toward the ladies room.

Outside the stall, I saw Brittanys reflection in the mirror. She stood behind me, her eyes full of undisguised, cold hostility.

"You're the one Landon called his five-year-long lapdog, aren't you?" Her voice was low and triumphant. "Do you know what else he calls you? An attachment he couldn't shake. A clingy shadow."

Even though Id tried to shed that past life, hearing such a degrading description made my heart clench in a painful spasm.

I took a breath and turned to face her.

"Is that right? Well, I hope your time with him lasts longer than mine did."

Brittany's smug expression faltered, her perfectly composed face twisting with sudden, raw fury.

She suddenly grabbed my arm, forcing a grotesque smile. "It was only five years! And after all that, Landon tossed you out like trash! Like a stray dog he got tired of petting! Jordan Wells, the woman who walks down the aisle with Landon? That's me!"

The moment Landon arrived, he found me with my hand stinging, having just delivered a hard slap across Brittanys face. She was clutching her cheek, tears welling in her eyes, a perfect picture of a beautiful victim. She'd clearly hit herself to make the mark more convincing.

"Landon, I just wanted to apologize, but I don't know why, she"

Landon's expression was calm, almost unnervingly so. He looked past Brittany, straight at me, and asked only one question.

"Did you hit her?"

I looked him in the eye, knowing the answer didn't matter. "What if I told you no?"

He studied me for a long moment, then broke into a slow, chilling smile.

"Jordy. You're getting less and less agreeable. Lying, saying you're getting married..." He raised Brittany's chin, his thumb delicately stroking her cheekbone. "Such a pretty face. We can't let it get bruised. Come on. Let's get you to a doctor."

He wrapped his arm around Brittany's shoulders, starting to lead her away.

"Wait." I called out, my voice startlingly steady.

Landon paused and arched a brow.

I walked up to him and held out my hand.

"Give me back the bracelet I made you."

I was pointing to the dark wooden prayer beads he wore on his wrist. I had painstakingly sanded and stained each bead myself when I was a teenager. Landon had worn it religiously, everywhere he went.

Landon's smile instantly vanished, replaced by a deep, tight frown. His eyes were cold, and the air around us dropped several degrees. Brittany didn't dare make a sound.

Suddenly, he gave a harsh, short laugh.

He raised his wrist, feigning confusion. "This old thing? This piece of junk? Honestly, I've been meaning to get rid of it."

With brutal force, he ripped the bracelet off. The thick red cord snapped, leaving a red welt on his wrist. He tossed the beads onto the pristine marble floor. They scattered, bouncing with dull, final thuds.

"Pick them up yourself."

Landon dismissed me with that cold command, swept Brittany into his arms, and strode out.

I looked down at the mess of wooden beads. I had come to find closure for a foolish, youthful devotion. It seemed the beads weren't needed for that ritual anymore.

I drew a deep breath, raised my foot, and with a silent, resolute finality, stepped right over the scattered beads.

04

In the following days, I moved back into the Wells family estate and focused entirely on the wedding preparations.

Three days before the wedding, I finalized the decor with the hotel coordinator. He informed me that the flowers had all been changed.

"Mr. Brooks made a special request," the coordinator beamed. "He replaced all the classic roses with sunflowers. He said sunflowers are your favorite, Mrs. Wells. He wants to give you the very best."

A warmth bloomed in my chest. I sent a text to Theodore, who was still abroad.

[The sunflowers are perfect. I love them. Thank you.]

Meanwhile, Landon updated his social media. A photo of him and Brittany on a beach holiday. The sun, the sand, a beautiful resorta trip I'd begged Landon for over five years, one he always shrugged off, now handed to Brittany effortlessly.

Two days before the wedding, Theo sent over the finalized guest list. It was detailed, organized, and reflected a genuine care for the event, not just a business transaction.

Sasha texted me, frantic, saying she hadn't been able to reach Landon all day.

The final day before the wedding, Theo had a designer gownan incredible dress encrusted with diamondsflown in from Paris. As I stood by the mirror, gently stroking the fabric, I realized I was genuinely starting to anticipate the day ahead. All the pain and shadows from the past seemed to recede.

My phone screen lit up. Landon.

[The keypad on the front door is dead. You still have the spare key, right?]

My conversation thread with him was a wasteland of my green bubbles, my frantic texts about his absences, his lies, his excuses. His last message to me had been two months ago.

I smiled, flipped my phone face-down on the vanity, and let the notifications pile up.

...

The relentless ringing continued.

[Jordan Wells, how did you string those beads? The bracelet snapped.]

[Don't get the wrong idea. I didn't pick up the broken one. I just want to make a new one for Britt as a gift.]

[Jordan, answer me!]

[Since when did you learn to play games?]

...

The irritating chimes drove me to finally pick up the phone. I calmly deleted the entire conversation history, then went to his contact page, and blocked him.

Back at the Montgomery mansion, Landon stared at the red exclamation point next to his last message. He was so angry he wanted to throw the handful of wooden beads hed retrieved from the club floor back into the trash. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. His heart, he realized with a sickening lurch, was no longer under his control. He felt a deep, unfamiliar dread.

Sasha, dressed exquisitely for the wedding, came down the stairs.

She looked at her brother, who was pacing wildly, beads clenched in his fist.

"Landon, why aren't you dressed?" she asked, confused. "Are you really planning to wear that to Jordans wedding?"