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'I can't.'
An innocent pair of words were her unraveling.
While the words themselves remained innocuous, the meaning behind them took on a more vicious edge.
All any sequence in life began with was a couple of words — a combination of syllables one after the other that formed sounds — but, oh boy, were they powerful when they wanted to be. Stephanie would have reveled in clocking the simpleton who claimed sticks and stones were capable of breaking bones, but that words were harmless. Verbal expressions may seem simple enough in grade school, when children are in the early process of learning how to string their thoughts together, but when they grow older and begin speaking in full sentences, they obtain the potential to do some serious damage. The mergence of two vowels and three consonants had wrapped their sneaky tendrils around the handle of the sharpest knife they could find and stabbed it directly in the center of Stephanie's back.
'I can't.'
Her horror was paralyzing and all-consuming, slithering with the stealth of a slimy snake as it took over her nervous system and controlled it like a couch potato did their television remote. Chris's utterance stunned every last attendee to silence, including a motionless Stephanie, who stood blinking her eyes in perfect sync with each tick of the second hand on the wall clock, hoping with each movement she might wake up from the nightmare her life had transformed into in a matter of seconds. Alas, it was not to be, and she was left sporting a strapless, chiffon gown, which flared at the ends and created a shapely silhouette in tandem with her ultra-fit body, although her finger lacked a ring. Months of what felt like endless planning had gone into making sure she would have a special day she could remember forever, but, instead, she stood across from the man who deemed her unfit to be his wife.
Their spherical blue eyes remained locked as one, his azure meeting her cobalt, as she attempted to make sense of his dismissal. When he first spoke the words, a hushed ripple of laughter had broken out amongst the pews, and Stephanie could admit she contributed to the aghast chuckles, because she was certain Chris was playing a joke on her. There was no possible way nine months of planning and a relationship spanning the length of five wonderful years could have been washed down the drain like week-old spaghetti left over from a potluck. She just knew he had to be joking but, yet, the seconds ticked by, and no trace of a smile manifested on his face. The loving twinkle in his eyes was also gone, replaced by deep solemnity.
The priest remained still as a statue, as did every member of the wedding party. A friend relayed their story to Stephanie a few years back regarding being in a car accident, and they had told her the amount of time before impact was only a matter of seconds, but in the depths of their mind, it felt like an eternity. Just before the sound of crunching metal filled their ears, they had a chance to consider their family and what might happen to their loved ones if they didn't pull through the wreckage, and it wasn't until Stephanie found herself being rejected by the man she loved most that she truly understood the phenomenon. It couldn't have been more than thirty seconds that passed, but she had gone through a massive mental list of everything pertaining to the new life she would have to build when all was said and done, and it felt like she had been standing there for hours, rather than only half a minute.
Her throat was dry and voice was missing in action, as if Chris's refusal to marry her had turned her into a mute. She sought after the whereabouts of her vocal cords, as if they were one of her nephews and she was playing an elaborate game of hide-and-seek with them, and once her voice was back in play, she went in for the question everyone must have been wondering right along with her. "Are you serious, Chris?"
"I...I..." he stammered, gulping audibly as his eyes remained stuck on hers, "I can't marry you, Steph. I'm so sorry, I just can't."
The final image she had of her former husband-to-be was his pomade-styled blond hair and the back of his immaculately tailored tuxedo as he rushed back down the aisle and out the church door, fleeing not only from her, but the life they had planned together. The horrifying visual he left behind was instantly seared into her brain, like raw bacon being dropped into a pan of hot grease, which was apropos, since she was sizzling mad. The door shut behind him with a resounding clunk and all the curious glances that followed his zipping movements turned to Stephanie. She couldn't be the woman who felt apart when left at the altar, simply wouldn't allow herself to become so vulnerable, but one minute Stephanie was standing, and the next, she was toppling over with the same lack of grace the Leaning Tower of Pisa displayed.
Stephanie wasn't aware enough to know who rushed to her rescue first, but there was an uproar at once, as a gathering of family and friends formed a protective circle around her, led by her mother. Linda wrapped one arm around Stephanie's shoulders and pulled her head to her chest with the other, but Stephanie's face was as devoid of emotion as a barren desert was water, and all she could do was stare blankly ahead, wondering what had become of her life. It had all been planned so meticulously and, in the blink of an eye, everything she had strived for was gone. Her mind seemed intent on pulling past memories to the forefront to help her cope, and much like the thoughts of her friend's car accident, she was reminded of another situation from times gone by.
Kurt Angle suffered a concussion after one of his matches in the early 2000s and, when he was brought to the back, Stephanie had been one of the first in line to greet him. The guys who worked for her father weren't only independent contractors. They had become her genuine friends, and she liked to think they thought of her in a similar fashion. Kurt was being stretchered out because it was suspected he suffered a concussion in the midst of the action and, while Stephanie waited by his side for the paramedics to load him into the awaiting emergency vehicle, he asked, at least a dozen times, what had happened to him. The after-effects of his head injury were at work and tossing him into confusion, but she maintained her patience and kept assuring him he was going to be fine and it was only a concussion.
As she found herself experiencing a similar sense of puzzlement, despite the cause of their situations being completely different, Stephanie only hoped those surrounding her would be as patient towards her repetitious questions as she had been with Kurt's. She lifted her head a couple inches off Linda and asked, "What happened? I don't understand this, what happened?"
"We don't know, honey," Linda kissed the top of her head delicately, but before anything more could happen, Vince's dominating voice took over the quiet chatter as he barreled through the barricade that had formed around her and knelt beside his wife and daughter.
"Daddy, I don't understand," Stephanie whispered, brows furrowed as she tried to make sense of it all. "Why would he do something like that?"
Vince shook his head, cheeks turning a deep shade of crimson, as he took hold of her free hand, "He'll pay for this, princess. I won't let him come here and make a fool out of us like this. I don't know who he thinks he is coming into your life and ripping it apart, but he will pay. As a matter of fact, he's fired!"
"Vince, take it easy," Linda warned. In their house, cooler heads almost always prevailed, and it was all thanks to Linda, but this was a rare occasion in which her kindness was in serious danger of being vetoed. "Just relax, and set a good example for your daughter," she reminded him sternly.
"He's done!" Vince growled, completely disregarding Linda's request. "I'll have him blacklisted from every wrestling company there is, and when I get through with him, he won't even be able to ask TNA for a job without being laughed out of their offices."
"I just don't get it," Stephanie shook her head.
It was apparent to anybody watching that she was stuck in a state of shock, so Linda helped her to a standing position and began walking her down the aisle to get outside of the church. If Chris knew what was good for him, he would have hitched a ride and been long gone, because a great majority of their wedding guests were ready to chase him down with pitchforks and pounce on him the first time the opportunity arose. Linda held on tightly to Stephanie's hand, and when they reached the top of the cement steps just outside the church doors, Shane swooped in seemingly out of nowhere and took Stephanie's other hand so they could help her down the steps. No matter how old Shane grew, Stephanie was still his younger sister, and he was ready to gut Chris like a fish for what he had done.
The feelings two people shared in an exclusive relationship could change at a moment's notice, and Shane understood that concept, but there was no excuse to wait until the last minute and degrade Stephanie in front of almost 200 members of her closest family and friends. Chris had to have known there were doubts popping up in his mind, and he should have been honest from the get-go and talked them out with Stephanie ahead of time, rather than waiting until the big day to embarrass her as much as he possibly could. His actions were unforgivable, and Shane prayed, for the other man's sake, they never ran into one another again. Nothing positive could ever come from anyone in the McMahon family seeing Chris again, and Shane would personally see to it that such a meeting never had a chance to take place, especially where it concerned Stephanie.
Chris had his chance with her, and he dumped it in the garbage bin.
"Steph, can I get you anything?" Shane offered as Marissa came up on his side, looking devastated, as her eyes roamed straight to Stephanie's blank face. "Do you want some water?"
"He's gone," was all she managed to squeak out, gazing up at Shane in confusion. A flash of every emotion under the sun crossed her face at once before her eyes returned to their destitute state. "I was supposed to be his wife, and he was supposed to be my husband. Why would he do this?"
"We don't know, sweetheart," Linda brushed a curled tendril of hair away from Stephanie's face before glancing up at one of her bridesmaids. "Can one of you go back in the powder room and grab Stephanie's outfit? We need to change her out of this dress so we can leave."
"I'll do it," Stephanie's longtime friend, Valerie, volunteered, shuffling back into the church as quickly as she was able to navigate through the giant sea of people still streaming out. The guests had come to voice their sympathies to Stephanie, and while their kind words were much appreciated, Linda tried to move them along as quickly as possible. The faster they could eliminate the mingling bodies, the easier time they would have helping Stephanie change clothes and get into the car so they could return home.
"What is Chris's deal?" Marissa leaned down to ask Stephanie. "Did he say anything to you about having cold feet?"
"No...I don't know...I guess not," Stephanie shrugged, standing in a daze, as she stared out into the vast nothingness. Marissa did the only thing she knew how in times of great sadness, and attempted to comfort Stephanie by alternating between rubbing her arm and smoothing down her hair. Linda had removed the veil while they waited, which made access to Stephanie a little easier.
"I'm so sorry this happened to you," Marissa said, hoping her words were soothing Stephanie, rather than making her pain grow.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Stephanie nodded vacantly. She heard the words but couldn't feel them. The thought of returning home alone on what was supposed to be her wedding day did to Stephanie's heart precisely what a shredder did to paper. As she glanced around, looking for a person who was clearly long gone, she came to a single, harsh realization that would shape her life in the coming days and months.
Chris was gone, never to return.
Life was all about choices, and if anyone understood the veracity of that concept, it was Chris Irvine. Each path he strolled down in life had led him to his childhood dreams, but, more than that, each step he took had brought him closer to the love of his life — Stephanie McMahon. The current state of his life could very well have never unfolded, had playing in a rock 'n roll band progressed before his wrestling career did. It just so happened the wrestling train took off first, so he boarded it with glee and struggled through each bump on the tracks until he reached his ultimate destination of holding a WWF championship.
Success hadn't come easy, and there was many an occasion on his way up the ladder he had felt the urge to quit, but he stuck with it anyway, through his own sheer determination and the encouragement of those closest to him. One of his biggest supporters had been Stephanie, and she played an instrumental role, not only in how he perceived his character on television and relaxed into his role, but in how he viewed the business as a whole. She carried an unbelievable wealth of knowledge concerning the wrestling industry and what sorts of creative storylines made the crowds tick. As successful as she was in work, she carried the same passion in her personal life, and Chris had been lucky enough to be the man she chose to spend her free time with.
So much for that.
Be it fear or unbridled stupidity, he had just walked out of the church and away from the only woman he could ever imagine having a real future with. There was no excuse for tucking tail and running the way he had, and Chris considered asking the driver of the cab he had hailed to double back around so he could make sure Stephanie was doing okay, but there was no possible way she could be after what had taken place. She must have been fuming, devastated, baffled, or some combination of those three emotions, and he didn't want to see her like that. On the flip side, he didn't want her to witness him in one of his lowest forms since they had known one another, either.
If he returned to the church, Chris wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't walk into some sort of trap and get his ass handed to him by Shane and all the other males who were certain to be looking out for Stephanie, and there were a lot, because Stephanie was a greatly beloved individual. Chris hadn't planned to hurt her, and he wished with all his heart to rewind to 10 minutes ago and make things right. Sad to say, there was no dress rehearsal for life, and the only shot he had to make Stephanie happy was gone. He committed the ultimate act of cowardice and left her standing alone and confused underneath the altar, instead of being honest before the ceremony started and telling her he had his doubts.
"What happened back there, man? Did you just duck out of a wedding?" the cab driver, a young Hispanic man of questionable age, though he appeared somewhere in his mid-to-late twenties, broke through Chris's maze of thoughts. He was still sorting through what had taken place and wasn't much in a talking mood, but he figured it couldn't hurt.
"Maybe I should go back," Chris struggled with his opposing feelings, as each tried to pull him in a different direction. "Do you think you could bring me back to the church? I just have to make sure my woman is gonna be okay."
"Is she still gonna be your girl after this?"
"Please just go back now, all right? I need to make sure she's okay," Chris panicked, rocking anxiously in his seat as his eyes darted around at the dizzying sights from his view out of the partially rolled down back window. They passed a bakery, and he caught a whiff of the mouthwatering cakes, which in turn made him think of his own wedding cake — the same one he would be in the process of cutting and sharing with Stephanie had he not run away. "Shit! How could I have left her?"
"All you can do is apologize, but, damn, man, I can't believe you left."
"Yeah, not helping," Chris rolled his eyes and fiddled with his hands in his lap. He didn't only have Stephanie to apologize to, and everyone in attendance was going to expect a decent explanation. He didn't have one prepared...at least, not one that would satisfy everyone, but, like the cab driver said, all he could do was explain himself. "Please hurry, I'll give you double pay if you get me there quicker."
"I'm tryin'. I'll see what I can do," he promised.
Chris nodded silently, cringing when he remembered he left his own father behind at the church as well. He hoped people weren't ganging up on him simply because of his relation to Chris, because Ted had been none the wiser to what he had been planning. The truth of it was, Chris hadn't even intended to walk out on his own wedding and, when he began experiencing high levels of doubt, he assumed it was typical wedding jitters and cold feet, like every bride and groom went through before the proceedings got underway. Stephanie had been heavenly beautiful during the ceremony, just as he always knew she would, and when they turned towards one another on the podium, he hadn't ever been so proud to merely be associated with her as he was then.
"I fucked up so bad," Chris mumbled to nobody in particular, as he was mostly addressing himself, but the driver took that as a verbal cue that he was welcome to weigh in on the situation, so he did.
"If this girl loves you the way you seem to love her, then I think she can probably find a way to understand and forgive you," he estimated.
"I just left her at the altar. Does that really make me sound as if I love her that much?" Chris asked, before thinking better of the way he worded his question. "Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love Stephanie, but most people from the outside looking in can't exactly tell that from the way I just treated her."
"I can tell from the way you talk about her," the man answered, spying Chris for a moment in the rearview mirror before turning on the street that would soon lead them back around to the church. "I don't have to know anything personal about a guy to be able to tell if he loves his girl, and I can tell just from the tone of voice you use when you talk about her that she's someone special to you. If you feel as strongly for her as it seems like you do, then you've gotta go get her. You won't fix anything by running away, but you might be able to at least begin smoothing things over if you sit her down and talk."
"I don't even know if I can get to her right now without her family grabbing me first and kicking my ass."
"If she's a good girl, she's worth the ass whoopin'," the driver laughed, and Chris found himself laughing right along with him, although it felt wrong to be even semi-enjoying himself after he had wounded Stephanie so deeply. As they closed in on the church, the driver slowed, while Chris's heart rate did the exact opposite. There was still a crowd gathered outside the church, and his heart sank like a wounded ship in turbulent waters when he caught sight of Stephanie in her street clothes, sitting on one of the church steps, sobbing, while her family comforted her.
"I...I can't get out right now," he shook his head, waving the man on. "Keep going, I'll just call her in a minute."
"You sure? You should at least go talk to—"
"Drive, now!" Chris shouted, a little louder than he meant to, but he couldn't risk being seen. When they were on their way again, Chris picked his phone up and began scouring through his endless list of contacts, trying to figure out who he wanted to call first, but as fate would have it, the decision had been made for him, taking all the guesswork out of it. The name showing on his phone's display was enough to make every ounce of blood in his body run cold.
Vince was calling.