He Never Let Her Go, So I Pulled My Millions

1: 1

Three days before the wedding, when I went in to settle the veil, the shop assistant hurried over with an odd look on her face.

Miss Fletcher, Mr. Gilbert called and said... the wedding is being postponed for now.

Postponed? Why?

Mr. Gilbert didn't say. He's keeping the hotel venue, just switching it to Miss Pruitt's promotion party.

Muriel Pruitt. The ex-girlfriend Blake Gilbert claimed to hate down to his bones, the one he'd badmouthed five thousand four hundred and seventy-five times.

I stood in front of the mirror and called Blake.

It rang three times before he picked up.

"The invitations have already gone out. You're just canceling, like that?"

He was quiet for a few seconds.

"She made regional director that day. She wants to throw a party and every hotel's booked solid. If she wants it, she gets it."

My chest went tight all at once, and my voice broke.

"This wedding, I spent two years planning it..."

"The wedding lands on the same day as her promotion. It feels like bad luck to me..."

The same old lines again.

The woman in the mirror stood there in a wedding gown, her eyes red.

Years ago, when Blake's startup failed and he was buried in debt, Muriel dumped him.

He hated her. Hated her so much he wouldn't even touch the garlic pork ribs she used to love.

And now he wanted to hand the wedding over to her.

Five years. Long enough to walk the whole equator on foot. But I'd never made it into his heart.

The assistant kept her eyes off mine and asked, careful and quiet,

"Miss Fletcher, then this gown..."

"I don't want it."

...

By the time I reached the base of his office building, the sky had gone full dark.

Blake's office door was half open, and there were voices inside.

It was Muriel's voice.

"Blake, is it really okay to give me the hotel venue? Georgia Fletcher's going to be upset."

Blake.

I'd called him that once, in a soft moment. He slammed on the brakes and snapped at me, told me never to use that grating little name again.

The grating one wasn't the person who called him "Blake." It was me.

"Get out of your head. She's a hundred times more sensible than you, she won't make a scene over nothing. Coffee again? You'll be up all night losing your mind."

"I... I just don't want the two of you fighting because of me..."

"Drop the act. There's no us to fight over. You're not worth that."

"But..."

"No buts. Quit hanging around where I have to look at you. You're fouling the air."

A laugh slipped out of me, one that never reached my eyes.

Blake had never once been kind to Muriel's face.

His tone was always hard, his mouth full of disgust. Yet he'd set a custom ringtone just for her, and pushed back a wedding for her.

I gripped the door handle and pushed it open.

Blake turned toward the sound, and the pen in his hand stilled.

Muriel stood in front of his desk, a cup of coffee in her hands. It was the couple's mug, mine and Blake's.

She wore a camel coat, her hair loosely pinned up.

Blake loved that kind of coat too. When I'd asked him why, he said it was so he could wrap me up inside it.

To play along with that little bit of sweetness, I'd bought a lot of coats like it.

So it turned out the style was hers all along.

"Georgia's here, so I'll go first."

She set the coffee cup down. Passing me, she paused a step and said, her voice gentle,

"Don't blame him about the wedding. I'm the one who couldn't find a venue."

"Miss Pruitt, this is between him and me."

The corner of her mouth pulled into an awkward smile. She lowered her head, pushed the door, and left.

Only Blake and I were left in the office.

His voice softened, and he stood and reached out to hold me, the way he had soothed me countless times.

"Why are you here?"

I turned aside, away from his arms, unwilling to let it go.

"I came to ask. Your ex's promotion party, how much more does it matter than my wedding?"

His hand froze in the air, and his voice dropped low.

"I explained it all on the phone. Can you not bring her up?"

"Explain what? Explain that because your wedding day is when she's celebrating her promotion, you feel sick? Not in the mood to get married?" I paused. "Aren't you the one who hates her most? She can't find a venue, you should be thrilled."

I took half a step forward and met his eyes.

"You said you hated her for abandoning you when you were down, hated her for stealing your project at the worst possible moment, that even sharing a company with her made you sick. So why are you postponing our wedding for her?"

Blake pressed his lips tight and rubbed the space between his brows, his tone irritated.

"Georgia, can't you be reasonable?"

I kept my eyes locked on him.

"Fine. Let's be reasonable."

"You said a master calculated this wedding date, a great and auspicious day, that it had to be this one. There are only three days left, and you postpone it just because you say so."

His throat worked, and he had no answer, but the anger in his eyes rose bit by bit.

I understood then.

Drunk, the name he called was "Muriel." Every time he saw garlic pork ribs, he thought of her, once again.

All those five thousand insults had never been hate at all.

"Blake, the invitations..."

His hand dropped abruptly, and he cut me off, his voice sharp.

"Enough!"

"It's just a postponement, we're still getting married. What are you making a fuss over?"

I stood there in front of him, my chest so clogged it made me panic, and all at once I had no strength left to argue.

The five years I'd spent at his side looked like one thorough joke.

My fingertip brushed the ring on my finger. I slid it off slowly and slapped it down hard on his desk.

Then I picked up the couple's coffee mug Muriel had used and threw it in the trash.

I turned and walked out of the office.

Blake called out in a panic, "Georgia."

The next second a phone rang, and his footsteps stopped.

My own phone lit up.

Muriel had posted a photo to her feed.

It was her promotion party invitation.

Thank you to a certain someone for giving me the venue. So grateful. See you the day after tomorrow.

Blake commented instantly: Bad luck!

I stared at those two words and felt the irony of it.

I closed her feed and was about to block Blake.

Right then a message came through from him:

Let me know when you get home.

As if nothing had happened at all.

I sat down on the edge of a planter and opened each chat thread one by one, canceling the invitations.

Georgia, are you really sure about this?

Good that you've come to your senses. The family company needs you.

I looked up. The light in Blake's office was still on.

I booked a ticket back home.

This heart, the one I'd thrown myself at and still couldn't get into, I wasn't trying anymore.

2: 2

Back at the apartment, I started packing.

A cramp seized my lower belly, so sharp it pulled at everything inside me, and in an instant cold sweat soaked my forehead.

It was almost midnight. I found my phone, my fingers shaking so hard it took three tries before I could tap Blake's name.

Curled up in the entryway, my head swimming in waves, I was sure he wouldn't pick up.

Then his voice came through, kept low:

"Hey. It's so late, why aren't you asleep yet?"

"Blake... my stomach hurts. It hurts really bad..."

My teeth wouldn't stop chattering.

On the other end, there was a faint woman's voice.

His tone sharpened a little:

"I've got something going on here, I can't get away. See if you have any ibuprofen."

"I can't stand up..." I gulped for air, the cramps tightening wave after wave. "It hurts so much... I can't hold on much longer."

Two seconds of silence on the line.

"Wait for me."

I gripped the phone after the call cut off, warmth rushing through me, tears sliding down.

Memories came flooding back. During my internship, my appendix flared up and I was curled on the floor in agony.

Blake, who'd just pulled an all-nighter, hoisted me onto his back without a word and broke a bone in his hand racing me to the hospital.

The doctor said ten minutes later it would have ruptured and killed me. In that moment I made a quiet vow: I owed him my life.

Blake, I'm giving you one last chance.

One second, two seconds. I waited over forty minutes.

My stomach still cramping, the sweat on my forehead running down, dripping onto the back of my hand.

Hope guttered out, bit by bit.

Just as I was about to give up, the doorbell rang.

I opened the door. The man outside was holding a clear plastic bag.

"Hi, here's your medicine." He held the bag out.

Inside was a box of ibuprofen, a bottle of water, and a handwritten sticky note.

Take the medicine first, I've got something I can't get away from.

The motion-sensor light went dark. The courier was already gone.

I shut the door and slid down against it, my back pressed hard to the panel.

I swallowed the pills dry. Only bitterness, not the slightest relief.

And on Muriel's feed, there was a photo of a scarred hand. That scar came from him breaking his hand to save me.

The floor tiles were freezing, the cold traveling from the soles of my feet all the way to my chest.

The person I was waiting for wasn't coming.

I held up an umbrella and dragged myself, step by painful step, to the ER.

Lining up for the blood draw, then the ultrasound, my fingers shaking the whole time, I couldn't stop them.

Behind me a familiar shout went off, crisp and clear down the quiet corridor.

"You really are dumber than a mule! Boiling water splashes and you don't even move out of the way?"

It was Blake's voice, scolding, panicked with after-the-fact fear.

I turned my head stiffly.

Muriel's hand was red across the back, a fine scatter of blisters rising on it. She hung her head. "It was just a little splash, it's not serious. You didn't have to bring me all the way to the hospital."

"Have some sense. If those blisters get infected and scar, then what?"

His voice was fierce and urgent, and his hand lifted, gently avoiding her burn, the motion impossibly tender.

"Just sit still and wait for them to dress it."

Muriel looked up, her eyes rimmed red. "Blake... thank you. For picking my birthday to get married."

A roar in my ears.

My mind went completely blank, everything ringing.

My fingertips clenched all at once, crushing that ultrasound sheet, the edge of the paper biting into my fingerpads, almost cutting through skin.

The wedding date Blake swore a master had calculated, the great and only auspicious day it had to be, was Muriel's birthday.

A vast absurdity and disgust washed over me, my stomach heaving violently.

I bent double, pressing hard on my belly, dry-heaving so hard it felt like everything inside me had been wrenched out of place.

Muriel's sharp eyes caught me first.

Her gaze held on my face for a second, then she lowered her head and leaned in to murmur something in Blake's ear.

Blake followed her look and turned to me, a flicker of surprise climbing into his eyes.

"Is it that bad? Why are you at the ER?"

He didn't explain why he'd brought Muriel to the hospital, and I no longer wanted to ask.

My face pale, I held on to one last breath and threw the report at him.

"I'm pregnant."

3: 3

"Muriel needs her burn dressed."

The electronic queue number rang out, drowning the last of the words I'd forced out of myself.

Blake picked the report off the floor, gave it a careless glance, and ruffled the top of my head.

"Let me get that hopeless girl treated first. Be good and wait for me."

Wait for him. Again.

I reached out and caught his wrist just as he started to turn.

"Don't go yet. There's something I need to say to you, clearly."

He looked down at my hand, and something flickered fast in his eyes, an irritation that a heartbeat later was buried under anger.

His voice came cold and disappointed.

"Georgia! I always thought you were the most reasonable person I knew. Chasing me all the way to the hospital and making a scene over a venue, and now what else do you want?"

My fingers froze around his wrist.

The startled look he'd worn earlier, I'd been naive enough to read as him noticing how bad I looked. It turned out he only thought I was clinging, blaming me for refusing to let go.

The pain in my chest crawled out into my arms and legs, denser and denser, until it swallowed the cramping in my belly.

I slowly loosened my grip and let out a low laugh, my vision blurring until I couldn't make out his face.

"The last time you called me by my full name like that," my throat tightened, tasting of blood, "you said, Georgia, marry me."

Blake stiffened, his steps halting, some of the anger draining out of his eyes.

He sighed helplessly and reached out, out of habit, to circle my shoulders and pull me against him.

"All right, my jealous little thing. I raised my voice, I'll admit that. Stop this now, okay?"

The warm arms around me didn't ease a single ache. I gently pulled free.

"Blake, let's break up."

The words had barely left me when Muriel hurried forward and laid both hands over the back of mine.

"Georgia, I'm the clumsy one who got scalded. This is all my fault. Please don't be angry with Blake over it."

She lifted her eyes and stole a glance at him, some small tender feeling hidden underneath, her voice going softer still.

"Back then I was the one who wronged him. I couldn't hold up under the pressure, and I left when he was at his lowest. All these years, I've carried the guilt. I never imagined my promotion party would end up throwing your wedding into chaos"

Every apology was another reminder to Blake: this old, youthful regret still weighed on her.

His face darkened at once, his brow knotting, and whatever faint, barely-there hesitation my breakup had stirred vanished in an instant.

"Don't bring up the past!"

I watched the whole clumsy performance and felt nothing but how absurd it was. I lifted my eyes and looked straight at him.

"Blake, you keep saying you want nothing to do with her, yet everything you do ties the two of you together for life!"

Confusion crossed his eyes.

"Georgia, what are you talking about? How could I possibly"

"You couldn't? The wedding date you picked, isn't it her birthday?"

I shook Muriel's hand off and pointed straight at her face.

"You were going to have me put on a wedding dress and marry you on your ex-girlfriend's birthday! You make me sick."

Blake's throat worked, his gaze skittering away, and not one word of denial came out.

Muriel's fragile act froze on her face too, panic flashing through her eyes before she stepped forward to soothe me.

Disgust and hurt rose up together, and I couldn't hold it in another second. I shoved the fake, sickening woman away hard.

There was a scream, and Muriel went down. Clear fluid seeped slowly from the back of her hand. Her eyes reddened in an instant, and she trembled with the pain, yet she bit down on her lip and didn't make a sound.

Blake's pupils shrank, his face going white in a breath.

He raised his hand almost the same instant, and without a moment's hesitation, swung it.

4: 4

The force of it whipped my head to the side.

My ears rang, and half my face went numb and hot at once.

Black swam across my vision. I stumbled back two steps and dropped straight down onto the tile.

"Blake! Why would you hit Muriel! I... I'm not hurt at all."

"Blake, I'm preg"

Before I could finish, Blake strode over, bent down, and blew gently on the raw spot on Muriel's skin, his touch light, as if he were afraid of breaking something fragile.

"Still saying you're fine? Look how broken the skin is."

I sat on the floor, staring blankly at the two of them.

Something inside me was draining away, piece by piece, caving in.

"I'm taking her to clean and dress this first."

"I'll be with her on the trip these next few days. We'll be back after the promotion party the day after tomorrow. You use the time to think about what you've done!"

More than once I'd wanted to go on a business trip with him. Every time he'd turned me down with "it wouldn't be appropriate."

The dragging pain low in my belly grew heavier, and something warm slid slowly down the inside of my thigh.

Blake had already swept Muriel up into his arms. He didn't look back at me once.

Before I lost consciousness, I heard a panicked scream near my ear:

"Blood"

...

The night of Muriel's promotion party, the room was full of guests, everything blazing with light.

The two of them stood together in matching business suits, a strikingly well-matched pair.

Someone at the table teased,

"Mr. Gilbert, you dote on Director Pruitt far too much. No wonder everyone says the two of you never got over each other."

Blake gave a low laugh, his tone cool and distant.

"It's just professional courtesy."

His eyes swept the room. He didn't find me anywhere.

He found Jamie, a colleague I was close to. "Have you seen Georgia?"

Jamie had just opened her mouth when a hotel server stepped quickly to Blake's side and handed him a package.

"Mr. Gilbert, this is a rush delivery from the hospital. They said it had to go into your hands personally."

Blake's face went still for a second, and an uneasy premonition crept up from somewhere he couldn't name.

Before he could tear the package open, Muriel gave his arm a little shake, her voice soft.

"Blake, it's time to toast the executives. Oh... a file from the hospital."

She spread her hands and gave a helpless little laugh.

"It's been three days already. Georgia still hasn't gotten over it? She really is just like you said. Such a child."

Pulled back by her, Blake set the file down without a thought, tapping his fingertip against the surface, full of certainty.

"The hospital called me a couple of days ago and I didn't pick up. She's probably still sulking at me."

"I'll take some time off later, take her to Disneyland, buy her the things she loves. A couple of soft words and she'll come around."

In his eyes, all of this was just me acting up to get his attention, throwing a little tantrum.

Through the toasts that followed, he kept checking his watch.

He left early, going out of his way to stop at a dessert shop for the strawberry cake I loved most.

Then he bought a bouquet of the sunflowers I loved best.

"Georgia, I'm home."

"Stop being angry. Look what I brought you."

No answer.

An inexplicable dread rose in him. He walked quickly into the bedroom and shoved the closet door open, and his heart skipped a beat.

Inside it was empty.

Panic shot up from the soles of his feet through his whole body and clamped down hard on his heart.

The sunflowers and the cake hit the floor. He tore the package open roughly, and when he saw what was inside, his pupils shrank to points.