She Stole The Bride

22

Sydney's POV

Pressing my thumb against the picture in my hand, my conscience advised me to burn it. To get rid of anything that reminded me of her. Of us. Of that stupid Camp Yukon. But I couldn't.

I tore the picture in half and smothered my face into a cushion. When my phone began ringing, I had the urge to throw it against a wall. "Yes?" I mumbled as I placed it against my ear.

"You sound sad."

"I was asleep. What do you want?"

"I'm the one who should be sad, Sydney. Or should I call you Syd?"

I exhaled a frustrated breath. "Are you going to make me feel guilty for the next thirty years because I had a crush on your wife when I was a teenager? That's low, even for you."

"You really didn't know it was her?" Daniel asked.

"Not a clue. Doesn't make you less mad at me, huh?"

"Not really," he mumbled.

"Enjoy your honeymoon. I have to—"

"I'll be enjoying it by myself. She left me at the altar."

I swallowed the lump inside of my throat. Leaning back against the couch, I pulled a cushion against my chest. "And why would she do that?"

"Why do women I love seem to leave me, Sydney? I'm sure you've got a clue."

I could have rolled my eyes. "She's not a lesbian, Daniel. Don't try to blame me for this."

He sighed. "I don't blame you. I just can't shake that she was the girl you told me about."

"Yeah. She was my best friend. Crazy how she found her way to you."

"Yeah, crazy." I could sense his sadness across the line. A moment of relief settled my thumping heart. But with that relief, I was burdened by more guilt.

"I'm sorry. I know you love her," I almost whispered. My conscience wanted to tell him what happened on the beach that night. But I couldn't. It would only hurt him more. And he didn't deserve that pain.

"I do." His voice was low and timid. Tears fell from my eyes as I thought about how I once again ruined his life. He deserved someone to love him. And I'm sure she did. But I also knew that you can't make a woman choose you, unless she wants to be with you.