Chapter 2

Fae

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 finish this. I had to, because if I didn’t, it would seem like Sarah did win. I cared less about what the other guests might think—this was between her and me. 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. No more crying or looking crushed from now on. 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. I came here as family, and would leave as such. Two hours, that’s it. Then I could wallow in my self-pity for the rest of my life.

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 be surprised if he was doing it at the behest of the 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 here today for Carl, too. 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 young men closer to my age in high society I truly respected and was in awe of. Though, honestly, his intensity scared me a little, too, as it did anybody.

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—best of friends since law school—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 still 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 like a foster brother while we were growing up. He was a godbrother, too.

My father didn’t leave me with nothing. I inherited a substantial amount of money and assets from him. Though he didn’t come from old money, I was told he was a savvy investor. 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 Carl and I saw each other every day. I was in seventh grade when I started living in the Easton House while 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 days. 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. Also, they tend to moderate themselves when they knew I was nearby. I didn’t want nor mean to be the spoilsport to their fun.

I was 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 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 to my face.

Jigo was a quiet person. Stoic, and chilled, always mostly observing and watching. He rarely talked to me unless it was necessary or unavoidable, but he always greeted me with a small vow or a measured smile. Even though he was constantly present in my teenage life, we weren’t close. I wouldn’t be surprised if he could still see the fourteen-year-old Fae up to now… the one who bawled at her daddy’s funeral. His friend’s godsister who moved into Easton House the first weekend after her father was laid to rest.

Or maybe, it was because I was an orphan that he wasn’t a snob to me. Like, he was the ultimate snob. But he had always been polite to me. 

When his grandmother ordered him to dance with me at the cotillion, he had obeyed. He also had escorted me to the debutante ball. I never felt that he was forced to do it because he always acted appropriate and proper. I wouldn’t really know what he thought of me exactly. He could make me so nervous sometimes that if I would try to befriend him, I would probably stutter all the time. 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. I didn’t really know him.

I was sure he was shadowing me now because I might do something stupid. He was a billionaire CEO. Goodness. What was he doing wasting his time on me if only to protect his best friend from me?

When I was back at the party again, I forgot about Jigo. I toasted for the newlyweds many times, going with the flow, chatting when someone talked to me, smiling when needed, nodding at times. I didn’t care that Sarah shot daggers at me with her eyes because it hurt more that Carl hardly looked at me since I came back.

Even though I drank champagne a few times, 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. The newlyweds would leave by helicopter to get to the international airport in Manila and fly away from there to Thailand for their honeymoon. They were the first to leave.

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 invitations arrived merely two weeks ago. I heard Jigo’s nightclubs were also hosting parties for guests early tonight once they flew to Manila on Easton or Myrick chartered planes so I wouldn’t use that way to get back home. I also made sure to avoid boat travel after the reception so I wouldn’t bump into anybody. It was why I was leaving tomorrow for Manila. 

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

What I could do was get drunk, 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 the farthest 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. 

But I could. I really could. I felt it emanating from him across the bar as I worked on getting drunk. His business with me should be done as soon as Carl left. His friend was safe from me. I couldn’t believe he would think I’d planned to create a scandal once the wedding was over. He knew me. It’s something I can’t ever do. 

But he’s watching, staying near, and for some reason, I was sure he was worried about me now. He could have just let his staff look after me, but instead, he was doing it himself. 

I wished I could be grateful but I wasn’t sure what I felt. My heart was broken. It didn’t care about anything else. 

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 the time came when I knew I 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 the 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 here.

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.