Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 69371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
I look at myself from head to toe. "You are getting married," I remind myself. "Edward is perfect." I close my eyes for a minute to think back to when we met. I only said yes to his date to prove to myself that Luke meant nothing to me. I kept going out with him to spite him, if I'm honest. The first couple of dates, I made it a point to go to the restaurant, hoping to run into him, hoping to show him that he didn't break me. That was my goal, but Edward was so kind and loving. He was attentive and just everything that you want in a guy, and then it was a disservice to him to keep thinking about Luke, so a month after we started dating, I put him in a black box at the back of my mind and refused to think about him until my thirtieth birthday party.
Until Edward stood there in the middle of the venue on bended knee, asking me to marry him. I was caught off guard, and I didn't have a chance to block Luke out. Instead, while he was on his knee, the only thing I saw in my head was Luke smiling at me and laughing. I forced him back into the box and agreed to marry Edward. He was my choice. He was the right choice.
The knock on the door makes me look up, and I realize I have a tear running down my face. I use my palm to wipe my face, avoiding looking in the mirror. "We said grand entrance." Presley sticks her head in. "But this is overdoing it, even for you."
"I'm coming," I say, gulping down the rest of the scotch and putting the glass down. "Can you do me a favor?"
"No.” She shakes her head and opens the door so I can walk out with her.
"Good, can you give me a glass of wine but make sure it's scotch?” I say, and she just looks at me.
"They aren't even the same color," she tells me.
"They will be if you use a black wineglass," I suggest, and she gasps at me.
"Wow, she gets married, and all of a sudden, she becomes devious." She shakes her head. "I'm on it." She squeezes my hand. "Now go in there and pretend you're happy," she says and walks away from me.
"I am happy," I mumble to myself. I take a deep breath before walking out, the whole time pretending I'm happy.
Chapter 8
Clarabella
"Is that hammering?" I mumble with my eyes still closed. My cheek is wet from the drool that formed a puddle around my mouth. "What is that noise?" I attempt to pry my eyes open at the same time that I try to swallow, but neither of those actions is working.
"Happy wedding day,” I hear my mother say as she walks into the room.
"What?" I ask, and the hammering continues.
"Oh my God," she says. "What the hell happened in here?"
"It was Shelby's fault," Presley mumbles from somewhere in the room, but then I feel movement beside me. "She was the one who stole the good juice."
"Ugh, no, it's not." I feel the cover pull off me, and then a big thud hits the floor.
"Motherfucker,” Shelby curses as my mother gasps.
"Oh my God, are you okay?" I can hear her running to the bed.
"Did she fall out of the bed?" Presley gets up, sitting beside me. "Is she okay?"
"I think I broke my face," Shelby mumbles. "Mom, get off me."
"I'm not on you," my mother huffs. "I'm trying to help you up."
"Why is it so loud?" I say, trying to fall back asleep. "Can everyone be quiet?"
"Get up!" my mother shouts. "All of you get up."
"Presley," I mumble. "Tell her she's not the boss of us."
"You tell her,” Presley replies. "She looks like she's about to whip our asses."
"She can't touch me. I'm getting married. If I have bruises, Child Protective Services is going to be called.”
"You’re thirty!” my mother yells. "Now get up. The car is going to be here in thirty minutes, and you all stink."
"I don't stink,” Presley defends, and I open my eye just in time to see her raise her arm and smell her armpit. "Maybe a little. I was stuck in the middle of these two all night long." She pushes my shoulder now, and it's just the push I need to fall off the bed.
I scramble to hold on, but my ass hits the floor with a bang. "Fuck," I swear and just lie here. "I think that smell is me."
"You!” my mother shouts and points at me. "You are getting married today, and you look like you just crawled out of a dumpster." I gasp and close one of my eyes because the pounding that I thought was hammering before is my head.