Stealing the Groom

Twenty Nine

*****IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE AT THE END PLEASE READ!!****
Warning: This is unedited, all 4024 words in case you were wondering! No judgement plz!

XXIX: Saviors

Presscott Wedding Part II:
May 22, 2007

THE DOOR SQUEAKED as I pushed it open, causing the figure that was sitting there waiting for me to jump up to his feet, his eyes taking in the sight of me in a midnight blue gown with long-sleeves made of delicate lace. I hated the dress, but the bruises on my arms limited my options and I was forced to wear it. 

"Hi," he finally said as he watched me take a step forward. He looked calm and relaxed, his hands tucked into the pockets of his pants, but his eyes betrayed him. The way he was staring at me, with so much longing and pain and sorrow...it took my breath away.

"Hi," I finally replied. I winced at the defeated tone in my voice and cleared my throat. "You've got me here, Max. What do you want?"

He looked away, his face inclining towards the New York skyline. Slowly, he raised his arm and drew a cigarette between his lips. Taking a deep blow, I watched mesmerized as the bud grew brighter before Max leaned his head back and let a huge cloud of grey smoke flutter into the air. I coughed as it reached me, and without thinking I lunged forward to rip the cigarette out of his grasp to throw it off the roof.

"What the hell, Elle?" he asked with a scowl as his angry eyes drank in my own incredulous ones. 

"Since when do you smoke?" I said the word with disgust, almost as if it repulsed me to roll it off my tongue. 

"For a while now, actually. Helps me relax," he said casually as he glared down at the cars below us. "A lot of fucking things happened since you've been gone. How longs's it been now--three months?"

"Max," I said in a gentle voice, ignoring what he said, as I lightly turned his face to meet my eyes. "Those things will kill you."

His jaw locked as he looked down at my pained expression. "Who knew you gave a shit about me." Max gripped the hand I'd laid against his cheek and twisted it to stare down at the ring on my third finger.

"I gotta hand it to him," Max said as his eyes moved from the ring to look me up and down. "the fucker's got great taste."

I pulled my arm back and clutched it to my chest, willing myself not to cry. I was on the verge of a complete breakdown, and I really wasn't keen to loose it in front of him. "This was a mistake. I-I should be getting back."

I avoided his gaze as I walked away, getting as  far as the metal door before Max spun me around to face him. "Shit. Don't cry. Goddammit Elle, please don't cry."

"How can I not?" I demanded as I tried pulling away from his touch. "Not when I look at you and see all the pain I've caused you."

Max wiped a tear away and smiled sadly at me, "It's not too late, you know." I cried then, because it was. It was too late. 

I was broken.

Used.

Dirty.

I don't deserve you; I deserve nothing.

I hadn't realized I'd said the last part aloud until I saw a flicker of fear--real, pure, unadulterated fear--in his eyes. Not fear for himself, but for me. "Don't say that. Elle, don't ever fucking say that."

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Elle you're beautiful and smart and funny and so fucking selfless. You make me want to be a better man, someone worthy of you." Max caressed the sides of my face and raised my chin to look into his eyes, "not the other way around."