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If I ever hurt you
You know I hurt myself as well
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“Flat white and Americano for Bree!”
Bree hurried to the counter, picking up her two coffees. When she turned back around, she smacked into a hard chest, nearly making her spill the hot liquid onto the chest’s black winter coat.
“Bree?”
She never expected to hear that voice again, but there he was, his dark brown eyes so clear in front of her. Tall and muscular as ever. “Evan?”
He gasped her name again, “Bree…”
Bree hadn’t seen Evan since they finalized their annulment a little over a year ago. He made no contact since, and of course, she wasn’t willing to pick up the phone.
Evan stuttered, “I, uh, never thought I’d see you again.”
“Um, same here,” Bree gulped, the cups burning through to her palm.
He hung his head low to see the two coffees. “Caffiene high?”
Bree frowned, lightly chuckling, “Uh, no, actually, one is for my assistant.”
“Shouldn’t she be getting that for you?”
“No, I don’t let her do that. I sometimes like to get it myself.”
“That’s nice of you.”
Bree nodded and shuffled on her feet uncomfortably. They were still in front of the pick-up counter, people were swarming in and out to get their drinks.
Evan didn’t look angry or unhappy to see her, rather he was cool and collected. That was the complete opposite from the last time; they had lawyers involved, sitting around each other. He didn’t want to make things simple for her, he cursed, he insulted; she had never felt so small.
He looked the same. Hair was shaved on his head and he carried the stubble on his face. “Uh, are you interested in having coffee together?”
Bree flinched back. “Why?”
“I…” Evan expired a long breath. “Bree, we ended things on a bad note and I want to rectify that.”
“You don’t need to do that. What happened…happened.”
He nodded once, reluctantly accepting. Bree eyed the door at his back, ready to flee from him, but he kept on, “So, are you still in the photography business?”
“Yeah, which is where I’m headed now.” She side-stepped him. “I have to get going. I have a meeting in like twenty minutes”
“Well, let me drive you there,” he suggested, persistent and unwilling to let her go.
Bree sighed heavily. “Evan—”
He pitched forward to her. “No, please. I have a driver. He can take you. I just…I want to talk…”
Mind-running through so many reasons she shouldn’t accept—specifically her boyfriend—Bree was running late to her meeting and it would take thirty minutes to get to the other side of town if she took the subway. She ended up grumbling, “Fine.”
They got into his SUV, the back seat spacious and windows tinted. Bree glued herself to the door on the far end, as Evan sat a little closer to the middle seat. She told Evan’s driver where the address was and they went off.
Evan cleared his throat. “I, uh, would love to know how your business is doing?”
“I’m meeting up with a couple who hired me for their wedding.”
He meagerly snickered to himself. “Wow…a wedding. A bit ironic right now, don’t you think?”
Snapping her head side-to-side, Bree warned, “If you’re thinking of insulting me—”
“No, that’s not what I was thinking,” he mumbled, giving her a sidelong glance.
Bree scrutinized his defeated posture, tapping her nails against the paper cups she gripped. “Evan, what do you want—”
“You still seeing Wrigley?”
She scoffed. “So this is what it’s about? Wrigley?”
His lips pinched downwards as he shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Wrigley and I are together. Yes.” Bree dug her bottom into the seat this way and that way due to her unease. “Why does it matter to you?”
He lifted one shoulder. “Just curious.”
Bree thought back to all those years ago how she felt about him cheating on her. She was heartbroken; maybe young and naive, but truly heartbroken. She couldn’t imagine how it would feel to find out that her best friend was fucking her fiance for months on the day of their wedding. Huh, well…now that Bree thinks about it, she guesses she would know the feeling to some capacity…
But, it would probably be worse of a feeling, especially since they had a life built together before the exploding of truth bombs.
Closing her eyes, she huffed, “Look, my meeting is an hour and a half long…” His eyes slowly looked into hers—like a kicked puppy. “We can meet at the coffee shop down the block from the venue. It’s 787 Coffee Company.”
“Thanks.”
Bree rolled her eyes as the car came to a stop in front of the hotel the couple had their venue. “Don’t thank me just yet.”
“No, seriously.” Evan eyed her sadly. “There’s a lot we should discuss. And something you should know about Wrigley.”
Bree straightened her spine. “Wrigley?”
“Yeah…”
Later in the evening
In their dining space, Bree and Wrigley sat across from each other, spaghetti on their plates. The only sound was of their forks hitting the ceramic and the constant devouring of their food.
After hitting the gym, he headed home and upon stepping foot, it was silent. Bree was cooking over the stove, not saying much except a meek ‘hello’ as her greeting and an ‘okay’ when he said he was going to take a shower. It was rare she spoke so little to him. Usually, she was going on and on about her day, about work, or…well, anything.
From this morning of bliss, their typical mornings, to this evening of soured air; it left him unsettled. Wrigley took heed of the daggers her eyes kept shooting in his direction.
At his last bite, Bree voiced, “So I heard something today.”
Wrigley relaxed back into his chair, chewing before swallowing then dropped his fork to the side meticulously. “Am I in trouble here?”
“You are,” she said simply, drumming her fingers on their wooden table. “Are you in contact with Evan?”
His brow puckered. “Evan? Haven’t heard that name in a long time.” Bree gave him a frustratingly awaiting look that had him denying quickly, “Of course I’m not, Bree.”
“Oh, yes you are!” Bree abruptly stood, grabbing her plate and heading to the kitchen.
Wrigley was confused more than ever. “How would you—”
A clanging echoed; Bree had thrown her dish with all the others not even caring if it cracked. “He told me!”
He scoffed bitterly, “So now you’re in contact with Evan?" Wrigley followed her with his plate, crouching beside her at the sink.
“Oh don’t try to point the finger at me!” she yelled, pointing a finger in his face.
He laughed mockingly, flickering his sight from her fiery eyes to her finger. “No one on this side is pointing any fingers but I am curious what you and your ex husband were doing talking about me.”
“He’s not my ex husband,” Bree deflected; uptight now that he was calling her out. “He’s just my ex. We weren’t technically married.”
“Tomato tahmato,” he mocked, then exhaled hard through his nose. “What the hell is this interrogation even about, Bree?” He gently put his plate in the sink on top of hers.
Bree crossed her arms, her hip reclining on the edge of the surface. “He told me you asked him for money. And I want to know why.”
Wrigley rapidly blinked when realization dawned on him. “Bree, that was a year ago. I …it didn’t mean anything. My parents weren’t talking to me, they practically cut me out of their lives, I…I was only scared of losing you and—”
“Stop.” She held a hand out, eyeing the floor before her disappointed glare travelled to him. A glare that made him want a portal to magically appear beneath his feet and swallow him up.
“Bree—”
“No, don’t do that to me. What makes you think I need any more than what we have now?”
Another mocking laugh escaped him. “A year ago? It felt like you needed more than…this…” He motioned his arm at their surroundings; their small, intimate one-bedroom apartment that Bree would never give up anything for.
“Wrigley—”
“No, I know.” He bowed his head. “It was …a long time ago, it was a mistake to contact him and I told him to forget about it immediately after I made the call. It was only two months after your annulment, I didn't think he’d answer me.”
“What did he say to you?”
Wrigley tapped his foot nervously, looking elsewhere but her pitiful gaze. “It's not important now.”
Evan made no contact with Wrigley after she and Wrigley left the reception that day—or so she thought. Wrigley, at the time, could have cared less about his relationship with Evan. But she knew there had to be some part of him that carried a sliver of remorse for tearing up his wedding and relationship. And the things Evan probably said to him, would make him feel even worse about himself than he already bottled up.
Bree clasped his hand, rubbing a soothing thumb over his knuckles.
He grudgingly asked, “What um, what did he say to you?”
“Everything he’s wanted to say to me but never had the chance to.”
His disheartened eyes fell on their hands, squeezing hers back for comfort. “You ok?”
“I'm fine.” Bree pondered, slowly shaking her head in sudden new vexation. She let go of their hands to rake fingers through her hair and paced within the short space in front of him. “I didn’t deserve it from him, you know? All the crap he said to me after the wedding. He acted like I was the devil. When he basically manipulated me into the relationship. He's a liar and a cheat. Not me!”
Holding back the roll of his eyes, Wrigley huffed snidely under his breath, “You still feel pretty strongly about this.”
“Well, yeah!” Bree threw up her hands in frustration. “You know he confessed to me that he went to Oliver for relationship advice?”
“And what advice was that?”
Bree snorted, like the thought of it was ridiculous, “That I crave stability and need to know he is there for me, which sure, who doesn’t want that in a relationship but you know he got my mom drunk at the exhibit that night just so I could come running to him…? Talk about manipulation 101!”
Wrigley closed his eyes, shoulders falling as he stepped out the kitchen and around their island to stand on the other side of it.
“What is it?” Bree’s gaze followed him and the immediate knot between his brows.
“I, uh, might have already known that...”
Bree’s mind slowed. Wait…
“And you never told me?” she began to chastise.
“You shut me out!” he argued.
“That's not an excuse, Wrigley! God!” Bree shut on the water for the sink to begin washing, but fuming with anger, it was hard not to want to throw a dish against the wall to see it shatter. “And not once in the year we’ve been living together that you wanted to maybe mention it to me?!”
Wrigley shouted at her back, “The topic never came up about your mom or Evan so I didn’t think about it anymore! It’s been years and he told me the exact day you shut the door in my fucking face!”
Bree tried to calm herself with deep breaths, scrubbing their plates hard to get the grime off then placing them in the dishwasher. When she was done, she shut off the faucet and dried her hands; a small, worried voice trembled from behind her…
“So who, uh, contacted who first?”
Bree didn’t have to turn around to see the insecurity in him; the way he’d fidget or flailed. She could hear it from the tremors in his voice. “Wrigley.” Bree turned, and leaned on the sink. “We bumped into each other at that Bridge Cafe place.”
“So you had coffee together.”
“I was getting coffee for me and Judy,” she refuted, gesticulating with her hands. “I just happened to see him at the pick up counter.”
Fury and pettiness oozing from his pores, he snickered, “That’s some meet-cute shit…”
“Wrigley!” Bree scolded her frustrations at him.
He put his palms up. “I'm sorry… I'm sorry…”
In all fairness, Bree shouldn’t have scolded him for making jokes out of it, she did actually have coffee with her ex…
Listen, she wasn’t the best at making the right decisions even when it came down to causing trouble. “We might have…met later for coffee after my meeting with the groom and bride this morning…”
Wrigley’s heart looped to his damn feet. “So you did have coffee with him?”
“It was just coffee a–and it was only a few minutes. I had to get back to work…”
He swallowed. “What made you say yes to him?”
“I–I felt…bad?”
“After how he treated you?!” Wrigley scoffed, hands on his hips like he was scolding a child. “Bree, come on! You know he was manipulating you to get to me and you let him!”
It was her time to be a bit insecure. “I–I know…I figured that out after the fact… I just—”
“So you two had coffee…you two talked about me…anything else I should know? Should I take my name off the lease and give it to him, pack up my things and say sayonara!?”
“Oh my God! Don’t be like that!” she chided at his childish behavior. But then she stopped and looked at him. He wasn’t playing any games. His now uncoiled demeanor, the light in his eyes gone and replaced with a wall of defense. “Wrigley,” she started slowly. “I don’t love Evan anymore, you do understand that right?”
“Oh yeah! Sure,” he clearly ridiculed. “I understand perfectly.”
“Really? Because I get the feeling you don't.”
“What do you want me to say, Bree, you married the man!”
“For twenty-four hours!”
“You still said yes!” Wrigley raged, slamming his hands on their kitchen island; a bomb that was ticking imploded and drained the color from her face, her stomach heavy with shock at his unforeseen outburst. Never had she seen Wrigley so intensely irate and it was directed at…her. His fingernails descended bit by bit into the tingling palms of his hands as he took calming breaths. When his gaze raised to see hers, Bree splintered at the red rimming around his eyes, at the tears fighting to spill. Putting his weight on his closed fists, he continued in his wrath, weak within it, “You know, you never told me why that is! How you could act like what happened between us was nothing! How you could look him in the eye and say ‘Of course, Evan! I do! I want to marry you! I want to spend the rest of my life with you!’ How you could just go on with your life and not once think, ‘Hey, maybe I should choose Wrigley? The man I’ve been fucking for months!’”
“He was my fiancé!” Bree countered. “He was committed to me! I had a life with him before you! I couldn’t just throw that away for—”
“For a few casual fucks with his best friend, right, of course!”
“God, Wrigley!” she spat, disgusted that he could make her feel so low about her—sure, questionable—choices back then. “If you're going to keep throwing that in my face, I don’t know how we can move forward together!?”
Chest moving up and down rapidly, Wrigley’s dirty look laid heavily into hers. A minute ticked by as they placated their raging hearts. Then, “You’re right.” Something inside her went vacant at his controlled tone and how simply he spoke. “I don’t know why we try.”
Wrigley marched his way to the front door, snatching his keys and pulling the door open.
“Wait, wait,” Bree’s voice shook, tears welling her eyes as she strided to follow him. “Wh–where are you going?”
“I’m going to get some air—” The door slammed shut, leaving her alone in the cold apartment.
She bit to her nail bed, not completely but enough for Bree to realize…they hurt. Cross-legged on the couch, she stared at the clock under the television…
12:58 a.m.
It was getting late. Later than either one of them have stayed out in the year they have spent together…
It was then she heard the door unlatch. Bree sprang to her feet and sprinted around the couch to him. “Hey.”
“Hey…” Wrigley closed the door, tossing his keys in the bowl.
They awkwardly stood a distance away from each other.
Bree twiddled with her fingers. “Where did you go?”
“Went to the park. I, uh, was talking to Pippa…”
She sniffled, “Yeah? What did you two talk about?”
Wrigley massaged the tip of his fingers at his neck. “It wasn’t about you. You don’t have to worry.”
Chewing the inside of her cheek, she exhaled, “I wasn’t worried. She’s your best friend…”
Wrigley slumped, shaking himself he hurried to embrace her. “Bree, I’m sorry—”
Relieved, Bree rushed to crush him to her chest and breathe him in. “No, I’m sorry…you were right, something made me say ‘I do’ back then but—”
“And I understand your reasoning,” he comforted. “You weren’t ready to risk things with me. I hate that I brought it up. It’s not how I feel anymore, okay? I used to be upset but not anymore.” Wrigley pulled her away to frame her face. “I’m so lucky to have you. You’re here with me now and that is all that matters.”
“I am so lucky too,” she comforted back. “Wrigley, I love you. I love you so much, I don’t want to mess this up with you—”
“You won’t…you won’t…” His nose pressed against hers. “You could never mess it up with me, I promise.”
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But I got to hear you say
I got to hear you say
It's alright