Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“Weddings are boringly predictable, I find. So full of empty promises.”
“Love, fidelity, and other lies,” I add, ignoring the impulse to rub the sudden ache in my chest.
“I’m sure your guests will say it’s the most entertaining ceremony they’ve ever attended.”
My stomach turns uneasily. “I guess if they’re talking about me, they’re leaving some other unfortunate alone.” Despite my blasé tone, it’s not a position I relish.
“If they’re talking about you,” he says, suddenly lifting my chin, “it’s because they aren’t half as interesting.”
“I’m not sure about that.” I find myself blinking into those mesmerizing eyes. “But thank you. For not leaving me on the sidewalk, at least.”
“It was my pleasure.” I feel the loss of his fingers immediately. “Now that we’ve established you’re not bound for a lunatic asylum, where would you like to go?”
“You can drop me off the end of the earth,” I whisper at the sinking realization that I hadn’t planned this far ahead. Not just for what happened earlier, but also for my original expectation—my so-called happily ever after.
Had I anticipated something like this?
I loved being with Mitch, but when I accepted his proposal—a cute but unoriginal giant cookie iced with the words Marry me? on Valentine’s Day—I knew in my heart things had already started to change. I told myself it wasn’t that he was emotionally uninvested but that he just wasn’t the type to talk about his feelings. Now I see he just didn’t have any.
As for me, I’m sorry to find my mother was right. I mean, she was way off about a lot of things, but I think I wanted this wedding more than I should have. I wanted to be right, maybe more than I wanted to be with him. Because, look at me. I’m so angry right now, and not even a little heartsick!
“Oh, my gosh,” I whisper, sliding my hands to my cheeks. “I’m a frog. A frickin’ frog.” It’s an unnerving realization because, like the proverbial frog, I’ve been stewing in a pot of my own wedding apathy for months.
Unaware of this—the ickiest of eureka moments—my reluctant hero gives my shoulder a friendly shake. “I think you mean you’ve been kissing one. I haven’t heard you ribbit once.”
I laugh and force back a prickle of tears. Kindness might be what I need, but it’s also what I can’t afford.
“You do realize you’ve just saved yourself years of trouble? Isn’t it better to find out what kind of man he is before the wedding?”
“It would’ve been even better to have found out last week before I gave up my lease and moved into his apartment.”
“Ah.”
“Try arghhh!” As the enormity of my situation hits me, I fall forward and bury my face into my hands. I don’t love him—maybe I never loved him—but I deserve better than this. “Pockets! Why the hell didn’t I choose a dress with pockets?”
“Do you need a handkerchief?”
I spring up again, his eyebrows joining me in the motion. “I’m not going to cry over that asshole! If I had pockets, I would’ve filled them with rocks. Then when I threw my vows at him, I would’ve hurt more than his pride!”
Okay, so maybe I’m not quite done with anger yet.
“Rocks aren’t as final as vehicular manslaughter.”
“Do you think I’d get away with it?” I only half joke.
“With a good lawyer we could make it look like an accident.”
We. It feels good not to be alone, no matter how temporary. “What did Mitchell do to you?”
“A more interesting question is, How did you throw your vows at him?”
“I found out he was cheating before the ceremony,” I murmur, ignoring the hot twist in my stomach. “Someone sent me screenshots of some very explicit text message exchanges. So I printed them out, and I read them at the altar instead of my vows.” I shrug. “It felt kind of fitting. I might also have balled up the printouts and thrown them at his head.”
“Ah, the rocks,” he adds, trying to curtail his smile. “What I would’ve given to have seen his face.”
“I probably shouldn’t have done it. That’s not remorse, by the way. Except for my shortsightedness.”
“It sounds to me like something you needed to do.”
As a glow rises through me, I tell myself it’s the remains of my righteous indignation rather than about the way he’s looking at me. “You’re right, and I do feel kind of vindicated. If I’d called off the wedding before the ceremony, it would’ve saved us both the embarrassment, but then he would’ve gotten off scot-free.”
“Not completely,” he adds softly. “In either circumstance, he loses you.”
“He should’ve thought about that before he screwed my maid of honor,” I answer, the glow taking on a heated edge.
“A double betrayal.”
“More like a betrayal and a half. She was a stand-in, but I thought she was my friend.” My brow creases as I process the truth in this. “Not an old friend, but I guess it now makes sense why that asshole was so keen on us hanging out.”