The Wrong Bride

Chapter 10

A week had passed and the three of us silently healed.

We didn't speak much about what had happened. None of us wanted to. All I wanted was to put that incident aside for good and I was certain Liam and Camilla wanted the same. Although, emotional traces of that night were still evident on their faces.

Especially Liam's.

Physical traces, including. His bruises were fading fast, leaving faint marks of purple and blue around the sides of his forehead and cheekbones.

Liam and I hardly talked but when we did, it was short. He was still trying to swallow his guilt down, I could sense it from a mile away. Even though our exchanges were painfully brief, there were many times it seemed like he was trying to not let the conversation end. Asking me if I ate, or if I needed help with anything.

Camilla often came over within the week to help Hannah and me plan for the wedding, but I knew she was using that as an excuse to check up on Liam and I. She too had that exact look of guilt streaked across her face whenever she looked at me. I didn't know how to convince them that I was okay.

The town had become my second favorite hiding spot, the first being my million-dollar bedroom of course.

When I decided I had enough of hiding in my bedroom one day, I sneaked out the house without anyone noticing, or else they'd insist I bring someone along with me. And that someone would likely be Liam.

Being outside, alone, did wonders.

I wandered around town one evening, just as the sun began setting in the horizon, and found a small remote café down the end of a street. I declared it was a temporary hiding spot. For Camilla and I. The only person I felt like I could feel a hundred percent comfortable around.

The café, Frida's, was dark walnut themed. They were all about huge soft burgundy chairs and tiny mahogany tables. Soft jazz music played in the background as I stared down at my coffee. I slowly stirred the cream with my spoon, swirling the latté art. Camilla's green tea, that she had asked me to get her, was turning cold in front of me. She was running late from having a talk with her father.

Just then, the chimes on the glass door sounded. I looked up from my coffee and grinned welcomingly at her. She returned the smile as she made her way towards where I was seated at, right next to a huge squared window.

"Hey you." Camilla leaned down, giving me a sideways kiss before lowering herself onto the cushioned seat opposite mine, making herself comfortable.

"Hey." I smiled.

"Are you doing okay?" She asked as she removed her coat, hanging it over her chair.

This was probably the billionth time she had asked me that.

"Of course, Cam. It's been days-" I leaned forward, crossing my arms over the table. "I'm over it, really."

She frowned, concern swept across her face. "Are you sure?"

I nodded. "Anyway," I lifted my mug to my lips, taking a sip. "What did your father say?"

"He sent Ashton to get help. Mental help. Since you didn't allow us to throw that rat into jail."

I placed my mug carefully down onto the table. "That's good."

Her lips quirked in annoyance. "I don't understand why you even care for him."

"Because I know Ashton. And that wasn't Ashton."

"Viv, I told you. The Ashton we know is long gone."