Too Late for You

"You never change, do you?" Bruce tried to caress my face.

I blocked him with my knee and backed up to the door. "Out, now."

"Trying to make me chase you again?" Bruce's low chuckle filled the air. "Eleanor, you're still the master of the game. Just like old times, dodging me, making me run after you."

I swung the door open, giving him an icy stare. "Leave. Now."

Bruce sauntered to the doorway, pausing on the threshold. "Tomorrow, someone will drop off the wedding dress. Bella's choice: a flawless size 2 in the satin you adore."

He stopped, his eyes scanning me. "Though you might need to take it in a bit. You've changed a lot in these five years."

I shut my eyes tight.

Even with the door between us, I could picture him, always taking Bella's side.

"Bruce!" I cut him off, dismissing his endless chatter, "Forget it, we're not walking down that aisle."

"I get it, you're upset," he said, his voice a mix of patience and persistence, "but Eleanor, we're destined. It was true then, and it's true now. Isn't this what fate wants?"

He lingered outside, but I stayed quiet.

"Eleanor, there's no running from this. No one crosses the Laurents here. Think about it, come back to me because you want to, or I'll have to get you another way."

His threat hung in the air as he finally decided to leave.

Footsteps retreated, and a car engine roared to life.

I leaned on the door, the chill of the metal seeping through my back.

His actions left me feeling so powerless.

The family business was in the hands of managers. I came back to sort out some business, and to show the kids their old home: a visit that came sooner than planned.

Bruce had it all wrong.

The doorbell chimed right on schedule at ten in the morning. I swung the door open to find Bruce's assistant, Mark, waiting on the doorstep.

"Miss Edward," Mark greeted me with a courteous nod. "I've been sent by Mr. Laurent to deliver your wedding gown."

He handed over a weighty envelope, its surface stamped with the Laurent family crest in shiny gold letters.

I pulled out a handwritten invitation from inside. The words "Bruce Laurent & Bella Rossi" were printed in elegant gold script, but someone slashed Bella's name with a black marker and scribbled "Eleanor Edward" above it in a messy scrawl.

The ink was still fresh, marring the fancy paper with its boldness.

"Please let Bruce know," I said, sliding the box back to Mark, "that he can take this dress back just the way it came."

In front of him, I ripped the invitation to shreds, letting the pieces drift to the ground like snowflakes around Mark's feet.

Mark's face turned a shade of furious red, a stark shift from his earlier professional demeanor.

"Ms. Edward!" he barked, his finger quivering as he pointed at me. "How can you just toss aside Mr. Laurent's heartfelt gesture?"

"Heartfelt?" I was at a loss for words.

"Do you have any idea?" Mark's voice shook with resentment. "Mr. Laurent has carried a torch for you these past five years! Despite how sweet and loving Bella is, you're the one he's pined for! Your picture still sits on his desk!"

He stooped to gather the torn pieces, his actions fueled by anger.

"You're nothing but a homewrecker! You've shattered what Mr. Laurent and the sweet Bella have built over five years!"

Mark rose to his full height, his eyes burning with blame as he fixed them on me.

"Do you really think you're all that? You're nothing but a fake! A selfish person who ditched true love!"

I slammed the door shut, tuning out his bitter words.

Later that afternoon, "Atelier Valeriano" popped into my head.

It was that cool designer boutique in Chiverton I loved, packed with one-of-a-kind gowns.

Maybe it was time for a change of scenery. I could not stay cooped up there forever.