Friday, April 12, 2013
Chapter 1- "Forever" (Carson)
Love, what is that? I've permanently erased this four letter word from my heart years ago, fifteen to be exact. This emotion is foreign to me and will be for the rest of my life. So what the hell am I doing? I'm hours away from marrying a woman I don't love or will be able to love. I agitatedly pace back and forth in front of my desk, raking my nerve-racked fingers through my hair. What was I thinking when I agreed to this commitment? I continue to grumble and reproach myself. How can I possibly go through with this? Is empty lustful sex enough to keep a marriage together? This is all that bonds us. I can't even bring myself to sleep with her through an entire night. Will she agree to separate bedrooms after we're married? Shit, why have I fallen victim to my mother's power of persuasion?
Time is what I need to convince myself. I slump down on my leather chair and swivel it around to face a vast glass window that opens up to an engulfing ink blanket of brilliant gleaming stars and city lights. I've spent many lonely nights staring distantly into this familiar sky searching for answers to problems in my life. I never did find them. But it must be my lucky night. I see a falling star struggling like me. I hurriedly heap in a breath of air, seal my eyes shut and wish for a glimpse of hope to appear in my loveless life.
I retrieve my phone out of my pants pocket to call my assistant. "Owen, have Captain Franco delay our trip to St. Maarten for another three hours." I'm thankful he isn't able to visually witness my insecurity. I take pride in concealing my personal emotions from the world. Sometimes I do it so well, I fool my own self.
"Mr. Bradley, the forecast for this evening is unfavorable. We should leave as soon as possible to avoid the predicted storm. The groom should not be late to his own wedding." He lucidly replies.
Owen's main priority is to ensure all aspects of my business and personal life run perfectly smooth. And he's damn proficient at it. But for once in my life, I don't care about punctuality or staying on schedule. I ignore his warning and firmly ask him to carry out my requests.
"I have one of the best pilots. I'm not apprehensive about a tropical storm. Contact Ms. Sorte and inform her not to expect me until tomorrow sometime. I will not vacate the premises until I am absolutely convinced my executives are confident in my position for the next five days."
I fabricate an unpersuasive ploy to convince him that it's work I'm uncertain about, not my wedding. He knows it's implausible. My executives are paid an exorbitant amount for their unquestioned capabilities. He obliges and doesn't challenge me again.
"I will call Captain Franco immediately and delay our flight. Your pickup will be 9:00pm this evening instead. See you then, Mr. Bradley."
I swipe the phone screen to end the call. Shit just three more hours of freedom...