REVOLUTIONARY (moshpitrevolt) wrote in xpennedrevolt,
REVOLUTIONARY
moshpitrevolt
xpennedrevolt

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1. oh my beautiful one.

Prologue
    It was a cold night in November when it happened. I was with Tyler after seeing a movie, and we were going to join my parents for dinner at the newly-opened Olive Garden downtown. We held hands as we laughed about the movie and walked down the street, premature snowflakes floating down from the sky.
   
“Regan—oh, hold on for a minute, okay?” Tyler asked, dropping to one knee in order tie an unlaced Chuck Taylor. I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to wait, hugging myself to keep warm under my rather thin black hoodie.
   
“Regan,” started Tyler again, catching my hand and remaining kneeling. “Do you know much I love you?”
    “Well,” I said, grinning, “you only tell me about every five minutes.”
    “I just want to be sure. Because . . .” he trailed off, pulling out a small black box and flipping the lid back in order to show me the expensive-looking ring inside. I felt my breath catch in my throat as I gasped.
   
Tyler . . . is this—is this what I think it is?”
   
Tyler pulled the ring out of its box and slid it onto my finger. It fit perfectly. “Regan Kennedy, will you marry me?”

   
In that one instant, I saw something else. I saw a much younger man with shaggy brown hair that had been highlighted blonde. I saw the most adorable smile on his mouth and a twinkle in his eye. I heard his laughter. And I remembered him saying, as though it was he who had just popped the question, “. . . until we get signed, Regan. And then, when we have enough money, I’ll buy you the most beautiful silver-banded sapphire I can find. And then we’ll have our own ‘happily ever after’. . . . We’ll get married then, won’t we . . .?”

    I looked at the ring; a gold-banded diamond. It was Tyler who had asked me. It was Tyler who had the ring. It was
Tyler I was with now
    But it was with Jade in mind that I whispered “. . . yes.”


Chapter One
ONE MONTH LATER

   
It was a slow night at The Mistress. The Mistress of Murder was my bar, which I had started two years ago, when I was 20. Originally, it had just been a small concert hall, but since then I’d added a bar and some other things, and now, The Mistress was one of the most popular venues in downtown Phoenix.
   
Anyway, it was a slow day after a fast two weeks, so I decided to do my workers a favor and close early. We were done before ten, and I started home after locking up.
   
Two weeks before the proposal, I had moved into Tyler’s three-bedroom flat, and we’d been living there together ever since. Tonight, however, I didn’t feel quite like going home yet. Instead I went to a record store I knew of, a few blocks away from The Mistress. Inside, Avenged Sevenfold’s Unholy Confessions was blaring through the system, causing me to stop for a minute and simply listen in contentment.
   
I browsed the cds for about an hour, finally deciding on From First to Last’s Heroine. I purchased the cd and left, thinking melancholy thoughts. In two months, Tyler and I were going to be married. I wasn’t ready. It was much too soon.
   
Or would I ever be ready? Ready to marry Tyler? Tyler Gibbs. Regan Gibbs. Regan Kennedy. Regan . . . Puget.
   
It had been five years since my parents had forced me to move Cedar Grove, a small suburban town in Washington. Not a single day had I gone by when I hadn’t thought of Jade, wondered where he was, who he was with, what he was doing, wished we were together, remembered when we were. It had been five long years since I’d last seen him, and a year and a half since I’d given a handsome customer my number one night. Tyler was the first guy I’d paid attention to since I’d left Washington. And even that was . . . not what he thought it was. Not what he wanted. It was more to distract myself from missing Jade, and caving to the urgings of my friends and family.
   
“I understand, Regan, that you had a bad bout of puppy love for Jade, but you need to get over it. A fifteen-year-old girl can’t know what real love is,” my mother had said. My father would only clear his throat and rustle his newspaper.
   
“Listen to your mother, Regan. She knows a young girl’s heart better than I ever could.”
    And now I was engaged to Tyler Gibbs. But did I really want to marry him? No. And why not? For a very simple reason . . .
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