Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
I’m going to be sick.
I rush to the bathroom, yank open the toilet lid, and wait for something to happen. When it doesn’t, I feel cheated. I slam the lid closed again and take a seat on top of it, wondering what I should do next. Cry? I blink and focus my attention there, willing if not a deluge of tears then at least a single dramatic drop to roll cinematically down my cheek.
Nothin’.
Apparently, the well’s dry. I can’t force sadness, but I can feel fury. Boatloads of it.
I could call Matthew. Call Evermore Events. But what is there to be done? Shout? Riot? Show up to the Waldorf, bide my time at the back of the crowd, and wave my hand wildly in the air when the officiant says, “If anyone objects to this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace”? The idea holds a certain kind of appeal, but ultimately, I know I won’t do it.
Kendra is the person I call. She lets me unspool my anger and outrage and listens dutifully while she simultaneously gets out paint supplies for her kids and makes her family a spaghetti dinner because that’s what friends do. She agrees with me that it’s totally insane for Matthew to be doing this. We’re both almost more weirded out by the stolen wedding than by the suddenness of their nuptials.
“And doesn’t she think it’s weird that they’re using all of your ideas?” She gasps. “OH MY GOD, what if she’s wearing your dress?”
I hadn’t thought of that. The idea is so crazy that—
I put Kendra on hold, call my dress shop in Montgomery, and then report back a few minutes later.
“Different dress.”
“Oh thank god.”
We laugh because weirdly enough, this whole thing is hilarious. I’m not so far into my anger that I can’t see that.
“He’s a real psychopath.”
“A monster,” she agrees.
I lie back on my bed, staring up at the blue ceiling my dad painted in here before I was born. My parents didn’t know if I was going to be a boy or a girl. My dad thought the pale blue worked for either gender, and it did. The blue paint makes me more sad than Matthew’s betrayal.
“Do you wish it was you?” Kendra asks tentatively.
I think on it for a second.
“No,” I admit almost sheepishly. “Is that strange? It hasn’t even been that long since we broke up, but I can’t imagine being with Matthew like that ever again. I don’t know how I managed it for so long actually.”
“He was a good boyfriend.”
“Sure.”
“And I think for a while there, he was what you thought you wanted in a husband.”
“He did seem perfect,” I add.
Then she laughs. “Now we know he’s the farthest thing from it.”
I think about canceling my date with Sawyer. If it were a real date, I would. There’s no way I’m in the right headspace to usher in a new romantic relationship. I need a year to recover! I probably need to hike the Appalachian Trail until my heels bleed! Try Buddhism! Discover the self-help genre! Go vegan!
So it’s a good thing this isn’t a real date. It means I can go through with tonight and use it as a distraction from my rock bottom.
No more Waldorf wedding.
No more perfect husband.
No more potential perfect family.
No more promotion.
Right on time, Sawyer comes to the door to collect me for our date, and I’m wishing he hadn’t decided to play the role of a gentleman because it means Queenie flings the door open and gets to firing off a million questions before I can dart down the stairs.
“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, Sawyer Garnett. What are you doing here on a Saturday night? You forget David doesn’t live here anymore?”
“He’s here to get me,” I explain from midway down the stairs.
Both of their heads whip in my direction, and their reactions are eerily similar. If I wanted shock and awe, I got it. This is a revenge dress. A read ’em and weep dress. A little black number that squeezes all the right places and flirts with the top of my thighs. I’ve paired it with summer sandals and a delicate gold necklace I stole from Queenie’s vanity. She sees it and winks.
“Gorgeous, hun. Where you two headed?”
“I’m taking her out.”
Queenie’s jaw drops. “Are you really? Well that’s a shock. Does David know?”
I snort at this question. David sure does know. Sawyer made sure of that after the baseball game. There were a few of us left after the post-game debrief (i.e. a round of shots and a chant for Sawyer since he made the game-winning out). At the time, Lindsey was showing me a Pinterest board on her phone, laying out all her ideas for Cruz’s first birthday. It looked like quite an undertaking.
“I’m happy to help with anything you need. Put me to work.”