Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
I take a deep inhale as the pit of my stomach burns and the heat starts to rise to my neck.
“I don’t think we should get married.” The words that have been on the tip of my tongue for the last month finally come out. Shocking even myself.
I look at her, waiting for her to say something. Waiting for a sign that maybe we should get married. Perhaps we just need to talk this out. But when she says the next words, I know it would not have worked in the end. “Are you fucking kidding me? I just put in my order for my wedding dress.” I close my eyes. Instead of telling me that we love each other and can work through whatever is going on, she’s more worried about her wedding dress and the money she put down.
I take a second to look at her, seeing her eyes looking at me like she could kill me. There are no tears there because our relationship is ending. “I’ll reimburse you,” is the only thing I say to her, and if I thought her look could kill me before, I was wrong. This look would have me ten feet in the grave. “Fuck you, Matty,” she hisses, “do you know how embarrassing this is going to be for me?”
I close my eyes as she huffs and rub my hands over my face. “You think this is easy for me?”
“I don’t give a fuck about if it’s easy for you or not. What the hell am I supposed to tell my family?”
I shake my head. “I have no idea. We could maybe just say that we are putting it on the back burner.” I try to think of something to tell her.
"Back burner,” she repeats what I said and even I want to shake my head at how dumb it sounded. “Fuck you, Matty.” She turns and grabs her stuff. “Fuck you all the way to hell, where you are going to rot for doing this to me.”
“Helena,” I call her name before she walks out of the room. “I’m really sorry.”
“I can’t believe I was going to settle by marrying you,” she says. “My mother said you were beneath me,” she pffts, and I about laugh at how childish she sounds. “I mean, look at your family.”
I stare at her for a good five seconds, giving her a chance not to say the next words about to come out of her mouth. She wants to shit on me, fine, I deserve it, but my family. “Watch it,” is all I say.
“Or what?” She cocks her hip to the side. “You’re a sad excuse for a man.”
“Actually.” I hold my hand up. “A sad excuse of a man would have gone through with the wedding and then divorced you.” She takes one more look at me before shaking her head and walking out the door, slamming it as hard as she can behind her.
My head falls forward, and I don’t know if I do a sigh of relief or if it’s an I fucked up sigh. Either way, I push away from the island and walk over to the living room. I sit down on the couch and rest my head back. Looking up at the ceiling, I run the past hour through my head.
I try to piece the puzzle that is going on in my head as to when it all went to shit. When did it change? Was it always this way and I was just blind to it?
Getting up, I walk over and grab my jacket and walk back over to the couch. Looking at it, I know there is only one person who I can possibly call. There is only one person who I want to call right now. I dial the number, putting it on speaker. One ring leads to two and I know there is never three rings. “Hello,” he answers before the second ring even finishes.
“Dad,” I say, my voice monotone, “the wedding is off.” I close my eyes as the words come out.
“I’m on my way,” he says. “I’ll be there tomorrow.” I look down at the phone. “Are you okay?”
“I have no idea,” is the only answer I can say. “I’m kind of numb, to be honest.”
“It’ll be okay,” he assures me softly. “I promise you it’ll be okay. I’m going to get things organized here and I’ll send you the details.”
“Okay,” I say. Even though I know I should tell him that it’s fine, something about him coming to me makes it feel like everything is going to be okay.
I hang up the phone but never move from the couch. My phone rings five minutes later. When I look down, thinking it’s my father, instead I see it’s Christopher. “Hello.”
“What the fuck happened?” he asks as soon as I answer the phone.