The Entangled Engagement of Indigo

Chapter 3

"What the hell is this?" Indigo gawked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

A reddened, tender bump on the side of her forehead stared back at her. It was the last thing she needed, on today of all days. It was Sunday, and not just any Sunday. It was the day of Tate's welcome home party and she couldn't stroll into his house with the beginnings of a pimple on her face. She needed to exude bad bitch energy, 'My life is extremely great without you in it but it's good to know you're back' energy. Was it petty? Sure, but she wasn't trying to win Miss Congeniality, nor was she Sandra Bullock.

She scrolled through her list of intelligent, powerful, and beautiful women, but her fiancé's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"What?" He inquired from the bedroom.

"Nothing." She responded. "All good."

She leaned closer to the mirror to inspect the blemish a little more, trying to pinpoint it's the time of its emergence and causality. It wasn't there yesterday, nor was it upon her skin that morning while she was busy running errands for work and the wedding. Plus, she'd been eating clean since she had to ensure her dress fit; no dairy, no fried foods, and limited sweets (no sweets was a pipe dream she would not entertain).

She pulled away from the mirror as a dark thought formed in her cranium. Could it almost be time for her least favorite week of the month? She needed her phone to check the app to be certain, but she was sure it was two weeks after her honeymoon unless... No. She stopped herself from getting stressed out about her cycle mingling with her honeymoon in Fiji. Bikinis, bloating, and tampons don't go well together and those four days were going to be perfect. She planned it so.

"Are you getting dressed soon?" he asked, sounding as if he was coming back into the bedroom.

Indigo exited the bathroom wrapped in a bath towel that soaked up the droplets of water falling from her curls. She drank him in as she leaned against the doorframe, watching his fingers buttoning up the dark blue button-down with ease as he hummed along to the music flowing from the speaker on her dresser.

Her eyes ticked up seeing the smile on his lips as their sight matched, making her giddy all over again. The way his whiskey-colored eyes brushed over her like she was a sight to behold and not just in a damp towel. She couldn't fight the quirk of her mouth. She was about to marry him in a handful of days and wake up to that smile for the rest of her life. She was going to be Mrs. Indigo Clark-Simpson, and that made all the pain she went through worth it.

"Are you sure you want to go to this?" she asked, twisting her face.

Diego latched the gold watch around his wrist. "What?"

She stepped into the room, the cool carpet brushing against her damp feet. "Are you sure you want to go to this welcoming party?" She twirled her hair around until it made a pinwheel next to her ear. "It's our last free Sunday night before everything gets crazy." She shoved a couple of bobby pins in the mass of hair with a sigh. "Don't you just want to chill here?" She dropped on the bed and then pulled her back against the headboard. "I know I do."

"We told Harris we were coming." Diego sprayed a halo of cologne on, bathing the room in vanilla and cloves. "Plus, I thought you missed Tate."

Her head tilted to the side, wondering what gave him that impression. She hadn't talked to him about 'that man that lived across the street' since they got engaged eight months ago.

"I... maybe." She looked down at her neatly filed, unpolished nails and then let a yawn slip from her mouth. "I'm just tired." She brushed away the wetness that formed in her eyes and dropped her head back against the headboard.

In all honesty, it was the truth; that yawn was not fake. She and Hazel spent most of the day trying to find the perfect wedding shoe and the right hairstyle for the big day. She didn't have the energy or the emotional capacity to see Tate.

"You want me to go without you." Diego sat on the edge of the bed next to her. "Tell 'em you needed a nap." He smirked, resting his hand on her thigh.

Indigo wrinkled her nose. "You make me seem like a toddler." She pushed his hand off her thigh and pulled a pillow on her lap.

"How about this..." Diego hopped off the bed and snatched his shoes off the floor. "We'll just say our hellos then dip out after say... thirty minutes." He lowered his body in the corner chair. "Then we can come back, and you can come back, and we can watch one of those shows you like so much."

She stuck her chin up as her mouth twisted. "You know you liked The Fall, don't even lie."

"Like is going a little too far." He grunted as he pulled the laces of his chestnut dress shoes. "It was alright... I mean, from what I could understand."

"They were speaking English." She frowned.

"With accents." He stood up, fixing his sleeves, rolled just below his elbow. "I'll meet you over there." He looked at his watch. "You getting dressed doesn't count as the part of the thirty minutes, so don't procrastinate." He winked, then swiped his cell off the dresser and pecked her on the cheek. "See you soon."

Indigo latched her fingers around his shirt, bunching the fabric in her hand, then claimed his lips with hers. "I'm right behind you."

This time his lips sought hers and their kiss lasted longer than the first, but not long as she wished. The yearning to be in his arms and explore his mouth with hers was something that took her by surprise late last year. Their initial relationship started with a few bumps and a crash, but things changed during that spontaneous girl's trip to St. Barts. He took up the mantle of a photographer for one picture of her and her best friends in the hotel lobby and started following her on Instagram just to like 'said' picture. Social media helped them form a friendship that helped her through a heartbreak and during that time she fell for him, a better version of him all over again.

Indigo heard the front door slam as she moved to the window. The streetlight rained over the cars lining along the curb as sprinkles of people trotted to the house across the street; a house that used to feel like an extension of hers.

A knot formed in her stomach as she watched Diego march toward the house on 534 Clover Lane. She hadn't seen Tate in months. A year and two-and-a-half months, to be exact. She didn't know what to expect, not after their last conversation. She didn't know if they were friends or even acquaintances. She sighed heavily and yanked the bra off her bed.

"Well, Gambit..." She looked at the canine, lying on his back with his legs up in the air. "Let's see how this goes."  

How do you think it will go? 

Will Tate be standoffish or will things be just like old times?