Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 70607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
"Typical," Presley observes. "Fucks shit up and then just fucking leaves." She shakes her head. "If you were keeping score"—she puts her hands on her hips—"I never really liked him."
I can't help but throw my head back and laugh. "Obviously." The brown doors open, and I hold my breath, wondering if some of the guests are going to come out. When I stormed out of the ceremony space, I avoided everyone's eyes. And I mean, everyone's. I just couldn't bear to see the looks of shock on some people's face along with the pity looks. I'm the bride who couldn't keep her fiancé from having sex with someone else.
Travis comes out, followed by Harlow, who heads straight for me and looks around. "Did you guys hide the bodies?"
Presley laughs at her. "I wish." She shakes her head. "He took off like a coward." She looks at Travis. "How's it going in there?"
"I think Clarabella needs some help in there," Travis reports, putting his hands in his pockets.
"How is Mom doing?" I ask, feeling guilty that I didn't include her in this plan.
"Well, she called Joseph's parents dickheads for raising a, and I quote"—he takes his hands out of his pockets and tries not to laugh—"'shriveled little dick.'"
My eyes go wide at that because my mother is the politest person I know. Even when people don't deserve it, she’s always smiling. "Oh, it was good," Harlow says. "Especially after she called him a shriveled little dick, she looked down at his package and raised her eyebrows." Harlow can't help but laugh. "He literally cupped himself to make sure that she didn't see or better yet kick him in the family jewels."
"Oh my God," Presley says, putting her hands to her mouth.
"Oh, it got just a touch worse," Harlow says, and I just wait for the rest. "She looked over at my father and asked him if he could take the trash out."
"Jesus." I shake my head and think about going in there and facing the music. My eyes go to the brown door. My head is telling me to get it over with, my feet are pretty much full of cement and don't even move an inch from the spot I'm on.
"I'm going to go and make sure that Mom is okay," Presley says, taking two steps toward the door, then turning. "Bet you’re sorry he didn't die yesterday." She makes her way to the door, and with one hand on it, she turns. "I'm not keeping score or anything like that, but this is two missed weddings for our family."
"Don't worry about that," Harlow soothes. "It's still fifty percent."
"Oh, goody," she says, smiling. "Fifty-fifty chance my husband will marry me." She shakes her hands in front of her. "Can't wait to meet that lucky man." She pulls open the door and steps in.
"This is a clusterfuck," I affirm, looking around and then pulling the veil out from the back of my hair.
"It's not that bad," Travis says, and even Harlow looks at him like he has two heads. "By next week, they will be talking about something else."
"If you want," Harlow plots, "we can start a rumor about him. Once my cousin started dating this guy, and he cheated on her, she started this rumor that he meowed during sex." My eyes bulge out of my head, and Harlow laughs. "Joke was on him, though, because he taped himself having sex, and the girl then sued him." She claps her hands together. "Good times."
Travis smiles at Harlow. "How did you do it?" I ask him as I hear people moving in the ceremony space.
Travis looks at me. "What do you mean?"
"How did you face the music?" I point at the ceremony space.
"Booze," he says right away and then looks over at Harlow and smiles.
"And sex," I add to that. "That didn't hurt." When Harlow came to his wedding and it was called off, they spent the whole night drinking and dancing. When we went to clean up his cabin the day after the wedding, we caught them naked in bed.
"Sex definitely didn't hurt," Harlow confirms, putting her arms around his waist and looking up at him. My chest hurts right in the middle as if an elephant is sitting down on me.
"Well, might as well get this over with," I say and take the five steps toward the brown door. My stomach climbs up to my throat, and my neck starts to get hot. If I had anything in my stomach, I'm pretty sure I would have thrown it up. I take one more deep breath and pull open the door.
I step inside, expecting to find everything still there, but it's empty. I take two steps in, and the door closes behind me, and I take in the scene again. I put one foot in front of another as I start walking down the aisle. The gold chairs that were full of guests not even an hour ago are left empty. Wedding day programs are left on some of the chairs, and one is in the middle of the aisle, facedown. "Figures," I mumble when I lean down and pick it up. Turning it over, I see the picture of us taken at our engagement party. A party he didn't want. The day he chose to go golfing instead of helping me set up. The day when I started to see the cracks in the foundation but pushed them aside, telling myself that it was probably nerves and jitters that made him like that. The day that I look back on should have been the first of many red flags. The day I spent mingling with our families because he spent most of the night at the bar with his college friends.