Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 140184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 701(@200wpm)___ 561(@250wpm)___ 467(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 701(@200wpm)___ 561(@250wpm)___ 467(@300wpm)
In a sense, it feels like I’ve severed the last tie she had to me. Like I’m no longer hers in any respect.
That’s a great feeling.
I always knew I would gain my independence from my mother as soon as I possibly could, but Milo has made that a whole lot easier for me and shaved a few months off when I could finally escape.
I always thought it would feel like it was about escaping her, too, but I’m happy that this doesn’t.
I’m not doing anything to spite her or because of her. All of my decisions from here on out are all mine and she will have nothing to do with them.
I pour myself another glass of champagne when the first one is empty and have a little private toast with myself.
To freedom.
When my glass is empty again, Milo stands up and takes my hand to lead me out on the dance floor for our very first dance as husband and wife.
Nobody else is dancing, so it’s perfect.
A moment that is entirely ours.
I picked our song: Skylar Grey’s rendition of Stand by Me. Milo gave me some grief for not using the original, but I just love her voice, and the song reminds me of us.
As we sway beneath the stars with my arms wrapped around his neck, Milo looks down at me. “Was our wedding everything you hoped it would be?”
I nod happily. “It was perfect. Thank you.”
He smirks, his blue eyes dancing with amusement. “You don’t have to thank me.”
“I plan to, anyway. Rather exuberantly.”
His eyebrows rise with interest. “Never mind. You can thank me.”
I laugh and rest my face against his firm chest. I know I’ll tell him a million more times, but I can’t help telling him now. “I love you so much.”
His arms tighten around my waist. “I love you, too.”
When the song ends, we head back to the table, but I frown realizing Jonathan isn’t there.
“Did Jonathan go to the bathroom?” I ask Jet.
His lips pressed together in a firm line, he shakes his head.
I frown. He has that look like he’s holding something back. “Where is he?”
Jet points and my gaze follows until it hits Jonathan’s back. He’s descending the steps of the back patio, heading toward the beach with two girls, his arms slung around their waists.
“Where is he going?”
“Back to their room,” Jet says apologetically.
My jaw drops. “He’s ditching us?”
I can only see the girls from behind, but there’s something familiar about them.
Then I realize I recognize the bikini top one of them is wearing, and the bouncy brown pony tail of the other one.
They’re the girls we passed on the beach a little bit ago. The ones who saw us wearing bride and groom attire and still made googly eyes at Jonathan.
“This is bullshit,” I state.
Milo has already sat back down, but I’m still standing and I’m pissed.
“I’m going to get him.”
Since no one objects, I pick up the bottom of my long dress so I can hustle to catch up before they disappear down the dark beach and I can’t find them again.
“Hey!” I call out as they hit the beach.
My “hey” isn’t specific, but Jonathan knows it’s for him and turns to look over his shoulder.
His steps slow. The girls look back curiously. I ignore them and narrow my eyes at him, but as I approach, I hear the blonde one ask, “That’s not your wife, is it?”
Planting my hands on my hips, I storm up to Jonathan. He releases the girls and they scamper back a few steps in case I am his wife and I’m here to slap him silly, I guess.
“Are you seriously leaving?” I demand.
“That was the plan,” Jonathan says.
“No, it wasn’t,” I state. “We all agreed to have a celebratory dinner together. This is basically our wedding reception. That’s why your dad flew you here, remember? To celebrate with us. Not to hook up with some bimbos.”
“Hey,” says the blonde one with a frown.
“You had to ask if I was his wife,” I snap right back. “You don’t get to be offended.”
“He’s not wearing a ring,” the brunette points out.
I’m not sure my anger is entirely justified, but I want to grab both girls by the hair and smack their heads together.
Before I explode with rage at their daring to talk back to me, Jonathan glances between them and tells them to give him a minute.
I’m grateful because being in their presence infuriates me.
Once they’re several yards away from us on the beach, my blood stops boiling.
“You’re not being very friendly,” Jonathan teases, his eyes dancing with amusement.
I am not amused. “You’re really going to leave our reception dinner to go hook up with some random girls you won’t even remember a few weeks from now?”
“When you phrase it like that, it sounds like you don’t want me to.”