His Discarded Bride #thefictionawards2019

Part Nineteen

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Leilani was out on the terrace, contemplating what to do. She was sick and tired of the miserable woman she'd become. While she may have lacked confidence at times in her life, she'd never been a doormat for others to wipe their dirty feet on and discard when it became worn.

She was an independent woman who, up until recently, had lived on her own and supported a modest lifestyle by working with most other people she knew. Leilani might not have had a lot of spare cash, but then she had never actually required a lot it.

Her favourite activities didn't cost much at all; she liked to read, preferably by a lake under the shade of a lovely willow or jacaranda tree. Now and then, she would invite one of her close friends to her place.

Leilani was no socialite, but she enjoyed the company of a couple of friends whom she'd known since high school. They would see each other two or three times a year. When they did meet, they had so much to talk about, and the night would fly past in a blur. Their visits always ending with each of them stating that they must get together more often, knowing that they wouldn't.

With alarm, she wondered what her friends would be thinking. The past couple of months had flown by and they would have heard of her wedding. She picked up the phone and called.

"Hello," she heard her friend's voice.

"Seema, it's me," she declared.

"Oh my goodness. Give me a moment. I need to find a quiet room, and don't you dare hang up. I've been trying to get a hold of you for weeks." She yelled over the noise in the background. It quietened down, and Seema launched, "Okay I can hear you now. What on earth is going on? I want to hear all about it, and why wasn't I invited to the wedding of the century?" she gushed.

Leilani managed a smile; she should have called her friend sooner. As best she could, she explained the entire messy situation. "I want to fight for my marriage," she ended.

"Why?" Her friend was always straight to the point.

"I love him," she admitted.

"Do you love him or the lifestyle?" she questioned.

"I couldn't care less about the perks, Seema. In fact, sometimes I wish he was just a regular guy, that we could live an ordinary, uncomplicated life."

"I don't believe that for a minute. The guy you've married... he could never be a suburban family man. From what you've said, you've found yourself an alpha male: confident, complex, and intelligent, and I've seen his photos. He is hotter than hot," she giggled.

"Trust you," she shook her head.

"Well, you have to admit that it must count just a little towards your willingness to forgive." Seema was so cheeky. "So what are you going to do, woman?" she pushed Leilani.

"Firstly, I'm going to stop being a mannequin. I'm going back to Rome to let Renato know that I want to continue our marriage, that I'm willing to fight for it, and I will not just let it slip through my fingers," she said; her courage was mounting.

"What will you say when he asks you why you love him?" Seema asked inquisitively.

"Oh, that's simple," Leilani giggled into the phone. "I'll tell him it's because he is hotter than hot." And with that, she rang off mischievously.

The emotional fog that had shrouded her finally lifted. She buzzed, thinking about what she would say when she came face-to-face with him. Calming herself, she figured that the best approach would be to not over-think things. Leilani didn't want to meet him with a mentally-prepared speech. Straight from the heart would be best, and, besides, things could be worse. He'd been doing nice things for her ever since she departed; maybe there were some feelings on his side after all. One thing was for certain; she didn't want a life of regrets.