I clenched my hands into tight fists; something in his voice made me really nervous. “Jake, what’s wrong?”
“I’m so sorry, but…look, I-I just can’t do this.”
Confusion and shock overwhelmed me. Through the fog in my mind, it took me a minute to realize what he was actually saying. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t make it,” he said in a grim tone.
I tried to process his words, but everything had begun to spin around me, as if I was caught in some nightmarish hurricane. “What do you mean you can’t make it? And why are you so nonchalant? This isn’t just some Superbowl get-together with your buddies, Jake! It’s our wedding!”
Silence was his only response.
“Babe, are you just getting cold feet or what?” I asked in a panicked voice. “Tell me you aren’t seriously considering backing out and leaving me at the alt—”
“Ashly, I’m not ready to get married. I’ve been thinking about it hard. I’m only twenty years old, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for all of this—for any of it, really.”
Shock flooded over me, and every square inch of me, inside and out, seemed to crumble, as if I’d been hit by a Mack truck. “So you tell me thirty minutes before you’re supposed to walk down the aisle? What am I supposed to tell everyone?”
“I’m sorry.”
“I love you, Jake. I love you so much. Please don’t do this.”
He didn’t even bother returning those three precious words.
My hand trembled as I held the phone. “We need to talk face to face. I at least deserve that, don’t you think?”
“I’ve gotta go,” he whispered.
“Baby, please don’t! Jake!” I begged.
Click.
My heart lurched. I frantically called him back, but it just rang and rang
. “C’mon, Jakey. Please pick up!” I shouted. A second later, my panic had turned to anger. “Pick up the damn phone.” With shaky fingers, I texted him: “U have 2 talk 2 me!”
“It’s over. I’m sorry. I think it’s best if U never call this # again.”
As I gazed down at the heartless, dismissive text, I screamed. The thought of never talking to him again, of never seeing him again, of him not sliding that ring on my finger tore me in two.
“What’s wrong?” Nadia asked.
Overcome with a rollercoaster of emotions, I threw my cell phone, shattering it against the wall. “He’s backing out. Jake’s not coming.”
“What?” she questioned in complete disbelief. “Where is he?”
My breath hitched in my throat.
“Ashly?”
“I-I don’t know.” My heart was beating a million times a minute. “He’s not coming,” I repeated, my voice barely able to tremble out the words.
She gripped my shaking hands. “What do you mean?”
“He’s pulling the plug on our wonderful life,” I barely choked out, “and he just told me to never contact him again.”
“That’s crazy,” she retorted. “Why?”
“He says he can’t…that he’s not ready,” I gasped between sobs. “I feel like I’ve just been hit by a semi, and I didn’t even see it coming!”