My Drop-Dead, Gorgeous Rebound

"Congratulations!"

A moment passed before Carl reacted to my greeting. He turned to me, finally. But it was a second too long. I trembled as I waited, conscious of guests watching us at his wedding reception.

When I saw his familiar face—my beloved's face—I almost burst into tears. But I couldn't do that. There were too many people around us—his relatives and guests who knew about us and my story, that I'd adored Carl Easton since I was ten.

He looked dashing in his three-piece suit, this man whom I'd dreamed of for almost half my life. There was no guilt on his face as he possessively held Sarah's tiny waist. Sarah, his bride, was proudly wearing her white wedding dress for the occasion.

And Carl's adoring gaze for his bride—my best friend—finally closed the door between my future and my past.

I couldn't love him anymore. I couldn't even say if I ever took a break from my feelings for this man who regarded me with brotherly favor as I grew up. He was my late godfather's son. No, he never gave me any sign that he would ever develop feelings that were more than brotherly toward me, or that he would see me as anything more than the girl he treated like the young sister he never had.

It was all me. Just me. And I was used to it. It was my life. I didn't know how to continue my days without thinking or dreaming of him the way I always had. And it wasn't on him—I knew that. But did he have to act as if he wished I hadn't come to celebrate his wedding? For all the years that we'd been friends, Carl had always been patient and tolerant of my attention. Now, he couldn't seem to wait to push me away.

What has Sarah done to him for him to act like this? I cried inside my head.

"Thank you for coming, Fae," he said quietly, his eyes carrying both pity and worry for me. Probably why he didn't want me here. He didn't want to be inconvenienced by the feelings he couldn't avoid as he watched me hurting.

But I didn't care about those. I could hurt because I loved him. Just because I couldn't have what I wanted from him anymore didn't mean I'd stop supporting him. I could deal.

My heart was crying, but opposing words came out of my mouth for him. "I'm so happy for you." That's the reason I came. Even if it hurt, I would still celebrate his happiness today.

"I know," he replied, even if his eyes told a different message—that my sacrifice was difficult for him. That made things awkward. That if it were up to him, he wouldn't want me here.

Tense silence weighed the surrounding air bubble that the three of us occupied.

"Fae..."

I reluctantly looked at the owner of that voice. It was Sarah, my former friend, because I couldn't honestly regard her as my friend anymore. Not for weeks now.

It was still hard for me to believe this woman was Carl's wife now. She, of all people, knew how devoted I'd been to Carl. It wasn't a secret to everyone that I'd had a crush on Carl since I was a child, brought by my father to every visit to his friends' and clients' houses as a corporate attorney or personal solicitor. He raised me as a single parent, and he was a doting father. To these people who became our circle, I was the shy and quiet kid carried in my father's arms to every house and meeting because he just had to make sure I spent time with him, even if it was outside as he worked.

But Sarah lived with me for two years, and she listened to me speak Carl's name every day of those two years.

So she was a different Sarah now. She wasn't timid or struggling anymore. She'd come a long way from the distressed friend who used to ask for help in exchange for housework and cooking as she worked her way through law school. The friend I took in so she wouldn’t have to do housekeeping for others.

No.

There was a threat in her eyes now. She was territorial in her stance beside her groom, and there was possessiveness in the way she snaked her hand around her husband's arm.

She was telling me she owned Carl now.

I wanted to laugh. I wasn't a usurper, a home wrecker. She didn't need to worry about me.

I was more of an idiot and a fool than any one of those.

Why hadn't I seen the real Sarah? How was she able to hide her true colors from me?

How can you do this to me?! was my silent scream to my former friend as I cheered for her, too. "Congratulations, Sarah," I said, but there was bitterness in my voice. I couldn't be as honest with her as I was with Carl.

"Thanks, Fae. Please stay and have a toast with us."

I couldn't control the smile of mockery that formed on my lips. What a hypocrite. I was screaming at her inside my head. Fake! But I couldn't do it to Carl. I couldn’t trash this day for him. I was here for him—not for this bitch. “Don’t worry. I will.”

The next break from all the posturing was more awkward. I wanted to approach Carl at a private moment, but that was impossible with the way Sarah clung to him. As if she couldn't walk if she didn't have her claws on him. And this was the result. With all pairs of eyes heavy on us, Carl couldn't hide his discomfort anymore.

They were our friends and familial ties, people who teased and expected that it was going to be us walking down that aisle today. It shocked people when he announced his wedding to a different woman the same day the wedding invitations arrived.

They were here, just like I was, because none of Carl's relatives came. They lived outside the country, and the excuse was that the event was so sudden, there was no time for them to prepare.

Nonsense. Even his grandparents didn't come. It wouldn't take a week for them to fly in from London.

What everybody knew was that the Eastons didn't want this marriage. Carl married an unknown girl, and his grandparents didn't approve of this.

That's why I traveled at the last minute when I learned that not one relative would back him up. I thought, at least, as the Eastons fostered me for a few years, that I was family.

But at that moment, as I could see, my support was not welcome.

Well, damn. I would be faithful until the last second, I promised with a heavy heart. Even if it was the last thing I could do for him.

I was supposed to say goodbye right after this formal greeting.

But as I stared at Sara's face, I just couldn't control myself anymore.

In the weeks since I found out about them, I tried hard not to hate her. But at that moment, as she stood there grinning like the cat that ate the canary the moment I turned my head away, I felt the worst disgust I had ever felt.

All the time that we were friends, I never had a clue I was in competition until it was too late.

She was like a snake. And from now on, I would treat her like one.

As I fought her stare, Sarah finally wilted. She got nervous about me as if I came here with a plot to shame her in front of the guests. She knew she was the odd one, the real stranger here. She was the college friend that mooched off me in law school and got into Easton Law Firm through my recommendation—straight into Carl's pants.

And yes, finally, she used her piteous mask and put it in place with those big, brown eyes.

"Fae, please. If you still have respect for our friendship and for Carl—"

"Oh, shut the fuck up. I'll toast and drink the damn champagne for Carl," I cut her off in an angry whisper. "Don't worry, Sarah. I will behave, but only for him."

I suddenly realized something.

Carl didn't know I was coming.

He didn't expect I'd be here.

It's because they didn't send me an invitation.

I laughed, which I cut off abruptly as I smiled sweetly at poor Carl, who was still trying to recover from my outburst and the cuss words that escaped from my mouth.

I focused on Sarah this time. "Thanks for the wedding invitation, Sarah. The card is crass—bright pink?" Carl would never pick that color for their wedding card. "And it needs a few grammar checks. Oh. Or did you make a different one just for me because I'm not on the list of guests? Because his assistant or Carl would not make a grammar mistake."

Carl was understandably confused. He turned to his bride. "You sent her an invite?"

I didn't feel any satisfaction when Sarah paled and choked as if she swallowed an oyster—with its shell. I was still seething at the confirmation. And I wasn't finished.

"You think marrying into money entitles you to manipulate us, bitch?"

"Fae!" Carl angrily whispered to me. He looked pained. "Please…!"

I was a balloon that got punctured. I lost air. I stared at him, my eyes heating, gulping air. I watched as Sarah raised eyes that rapidly streamed tears, which repelled my own tears.

That’s how she was able to trick me so many times in the past. She used to raise those same pitiful eyes at me whenever she needed a saving hand.

Couldn't Carl see this? She deliberately sent me an invitation against his wishes or knowledge to hurt me, and that was lying. He could tolerate that now?

Obviously, yes.

I felt whipped when Carl turned accusing eyes at me before he hugged Sarah to his side, as if he was protecting her from me.

And those eyes… asking me quietly about what I stood to gain from ruining his special day.

And I couldn't take that.

I turned and walked away. Fast.

As the band on a corner dais continued to play wedding songs, sober guests stepped aside to make way for me as I ran from the couple with my head down.

I couldn't bear to see faces. I couldn’t bear their pity. I didn't turn to look when I heard someone call my name as I passed.

I escaped.

But it would only be for a moment.

I would drink the stupid champagne because I promised. I would toast to their happiness as I must.

But at that second, I needed to hide before my sobs started spilling from my beaten heart.

About thirty minutes later, I finally came out of the ladies' restroom, hoping I had successfully covered the marks of my crying bout with makeup and eye drops. I hoped at least I had, because there was nothing I could do about how miserable I looked as I trudged back to the wedding reception.

But it was most important to me that I managed to calm myself. I had two more hours to spare before the party ended in the late afternoon. And after that, I could do whatever I wanted.

As I got near the doors, I caught myself squaring my shoulders and straightening my back. I took a deep breath. I didn't want to look so defeated because that's not what I was. I could do all that behind closed doors, thank you very much.

Right now, I had obligations I had to live through, even if it was the last thing I did. Two hours, that's it. Then I could wallow in my self-pity until the next day.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a tall man watching me from a distance.

I sighed.

Jigo, or Spencer Jigo Myrick, was one of Carl's closest friends since middle school. His family owned this resort, the hotel—the island.

I couldn't look at him because I was ashamed. I wouldn't have been surprised if Jigo was there to watch over me and do damage control on his friend's behalf.

I also wouldn't have been surprised if he was doing it at the behest of his grannies who worried about me, especially Lola Leah, his grandmother who was the kindest to me.

Jigo was always away due to overseas family businesses. I didn't see him for months at a time. But I wouldn't have been surprised if he was there today for Carl. He was an extremely loyal person, and the families had close ties. It was only because of Carl that I could rub shoulders with someone like Jigo. Doña Leah—his Lola Leah—was a close mentor and client of my late father, so I wouldn't have been surprised if this was one of the reasons Jigo silently watched over me, too.

Well, he wouldn't have been such a successful young businessman if he wasn't so responsible. As brilliant as he was, and with a legacy from his late grandfather weighing upon his shoulders from a very young age, Jigo had always shown focus and dedication to being a Myrick. He was one of the men in high society I truly respected and was in awe of.

I used to live with Carl at the Easton House. The Eastons took me in as a foster child when I was orphaned after my godfather and my father died in a tragic car accident. I was fourteen. Carl was seventeen then. Ninong Butch, my godfather, was Carl's father.

My daddy was a lawyer to high society personalities when he was alive. He was a senior and beloved partner in a law firm owned by Carl's grandfather, Lolo Crayton. My dad and my Ninong Butch were as close as brothers. Therefore, Carl wasn't just acting like an older brother to me while we were growing up. He was my godbrother.

My father didn't leave me with nothing. I inherited a substantial amount of money and assets from him. But I had no close relatives here in Manila. My mother died of cancer when I was barely two, and I couldn't even remember her. It was just my daddy and me when I was growing up, as both my maternal and paternal relatives migrated to Australia and the US a long time ago.

It wasn't like we saw each other every day. I was in seventh grade when I started living in Easton House, and Carl was in eleventh grade. Our activities were different, and we went with different crowds of people. Easton House was a considerably huge house. Except for breakfast, we could both be there on the same day and same hours, but we might not see each other all day, sometimes for weeks. I got a glimpse of him more often on campus than at home.

And because I lived with the Eastons, I witnessed Carl and Jigo become close friends in middle school. Carl's friends used to hang out at the Easton House. They swam laps in the pool and played billiards and video games in the rec room. I mostly stayed on the other end of the house or grounds during those times because I couldn't handle the testosterone during their pool time and the heavy cusses in the rec room.

Talk about recreation.

I was also not surprised that the wedding was held here at Majarlika Royale Island Resort. A speedy wedding needed as little paperwork as possible, and a venue owned by a friend could help with that. Jigo would have taken care of all that for Carl.

I was just thankful that he didn't approach me and talk to me while I was walking back to the function hall.

I was barely holding on. Jigo was an eyewitness to my embarrassing stalking of his friend. I used to dog Carl's footprints whenever I could get away with it, and he was the one who always caught me doing it. I didn't want to imagine what he must be thinking right now.

That I never grew up. That until the day of Carl's wedding, I was still like this—a nuisance in his friend's life. Did I even respect myself? He must wonder.

But I knew he wouldn't tell me all that.

Jigo was a quiet person. Stoic, and chilled. He was always just observing and watching. He rarely talked to me unless it was necessary or unavoidable. Even though he was constantly present in my teenage life, we weren’t close.

Maybe it was still the fourteen-year-old Fae that he saw up to now, the one crying at her daddy's grave. His friend’s godsister who moved into Easton House the first weekend after the funeral.

Or maybe, it was because I was an orphan that he wasn’t a snob to me. When his grandmother ordered him to dance with me at the cotillion, or escort me to the debutante ball, he obeyed. I wouldn’t really know. He could make me so nervous sometimes that I couldn’t ask him questions like that.

He was too good-looking in middle school, and too gorgeous for his own good now, that he could still overwhelm me. It didn’t help that I rarely saw him.

So, he could have been shadowing me now because I might do something stupid. He was a billionaire CEO. Goodness. What was he doing wasting his time on me?

When I was back at the party again, I forgot about Jigo. I toasted for the newlyweds many times, going with the flow, avoiding Sarah's annoyed glances shooting daggers at me because it hurt more that Carl hardly looked at me since I came back.

Even though I drank champagne a few times, the pain blocked me from getting drunk. I felt so numb.

And when the newlyweds were saying their goodbyes, I quickly ran out the doors before the grannies and seniors I had been avoiding could corner me.

I was booked at this hotel until tomorrow. Most of the guests were leaving after the party because they could only squeeze this little time into their schedules. I knew that. The invitation cards arrived merely two weeks ago.

I wanted to avoid those going by boat travel after the reception, so I decided to leave tomorrow. I had a car parked at the port’s paid parking area on the other side. Others would be flying back to Manila on Myrick or Easton chartered planes. The newlyweds would leave by helicopter to the international airport in Manila and fly away from there to Thailand for their honeymoon. They were the first to leave.

And that was today.

The only thing I cared about for the remainder of my day was not seeing anyone for a hundred years.

What I could do was get drunk until I could crawl back to my room and forget what Carl would be doing with Sarah for the rest of the night... and the next nights to come of their married lives together.

I found my way to the hotel’s bar.

Ignoring anyone but the bartender, I started guzzling tequila shots sitting on a high stool at one end of the bar. I was not worried. The bar staff's vigilance was extra-special because their boss followed me from the ballroom but still didn't walk up to me. He sat at a table in a dark corner and nursed a glass as he conducted business quietly on his smartphone and a sleek laptop.

He might have thought that I couldn’t feel his pity for me. But I could feel it emanating from him across the bar as I worked on getting drunk.

I forgot about him again as moments passed. In the midst of the faint chattering of patrons at tables behind me, the tinkling sounds of bottles and glasses, and rock music from the speakers, I got more and more intoxicated.

And I knew it when I finally wanted to be alone. I tried to stand up. Good... I was so buzzed. I wanted it so that when I entered my room, I had nothing else to do but pass out on my bed.

But the walls moved around me, and I grabbed the edge of the bar. I waited for the light bulbs in the ceiling to stop swinging, then I giggled.

I giggled.

I had to walk. Go back to the privacy of my room. Crash.

Or bleed all my heart out.

It was done. The day was done for me. I had to get done, too.

Someone grabbed my wrist.

Without looking at whoever it was, I pulled my hand away. He spoke, said something, and even mentioned my name. I looked at him, trying to place his face.

I knew him, but I couldn’t remember his name. I didn’t know he was a close enough friend of Carl's to be invited here… ah, Tom. His name was Tom.

A player. A maniac. He gave me the creeps. What was he doing here?

He was such an arrogant airhead, only knew how to talk I-Me-Mine and was so heavy with the ego that we called him ‘The Hurricane' behind his back. I and other friends, who else? Yes, I had friends other than the bitch and her circle of sex-crazy fiends.

And yes, this Tom was right smack in the middle of Sarah's circle. That was the only reason I knew him.

Because Tom was one of Sarah’s sex bunnies, a fact they didn’t know I knew.