Total pages in book: 221
Estimated words: 213317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1067(@200wpm)___ 853(@250wpm)___ 711(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 213317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1067(@200wpm)___ 853(@250wpm)___ 711(@300wpm)
“CASS!”
I force myself to face him, wobbly on my feet as I step through to the kitchen. I steady myself against the counter and I almost wish it was still anger that was ready to greet me, but it’s not. The emotion in Ant is already shifting. I’m sure I see tears in his eyes.
The man standing before me is the beautiful prince who swept into my life at Hanley Hall. He’s the man in a tux who has made every declaration of love and every effort at devotion he could have. And what have I done to reciprocate? What have I given him in return? A decent sex life and some shitty movie afternoons? I’m surprised he hasn’t thrown me out along with Gerwyn.
“I’m sorry,” I say again. “Ant, we’d never have done it behind your back, I swear.”
He ignores me, bristling with pent-up emotion as he turns to the wine rack. I have to suck in a breath when I see him reach behind it, to a place I’ve never seen. He pulls out a vodka bottle and takes down a shot glass from up high, behind the wine glasses.
“Wait–” I say. “Ant, please don’t do that.”
He pours himself a full measure, giving me a shrug.
“Why the fuck not? It’s not like you give a shit anyway.”
“Of course I give a shit! You’re the one I’m engaged to!”
“Why did you do it, then?” His eyes are so piercing. “Why did you kiss my best friend like he’s your fated soulmate? If only you could’ve seen yourselves. I should have set the camera up and filmed you for a comedy show, it was that fucking embarrassing. Gerwyn practically had cartoon hearts in his eyes, and you were simpering right back like he was a hero from one of your shitty romance movies.”
He sounds so callous, but he’s hurting so bad I can see it in his trembles. He downs the shot of vodka right in front of me, and the guilt in my stomach feels like utter shit.
“Yeah, we care about each other, sure,” I say. “I love Gerwyn, he’s amazing. But you’re the one I want to marry. You’re the one whose ring is on my finger.”
“Good way of fucking showing it.” He pauses, then pours himself another shot. “Tell me, Cass. What is it I did wrong? Where the fuck did I let you down enough to fall for my best friend? Didn’t I try hard enough? Did I not give you everything you wanted? Did I not try hard enough with your family? Did I not commit myself hard enough to our future?”
I feel like a traitorous bitch as I shake my head, a fresh round of tears springing up.
“You didn’t let me down, Ant. You never would. It wasn’t anything like that.”
“Why, then? Why the fuck would you fall for a weak, self-righteous prick like Gerwyn over me?”
There are a million reasons someone would fall for Gerwyn, and he’s anything but a weak, self-righteous prick, but this isn’t the time to be arguing with Ant over it. I feel too sick to begin. There’s also the fact that I’ve fucked too many people to count in the mattress room at the end of the landing, all under his instruction, so how was I supposed to know about the imaginary line between fantastic and despicable?
Because I should know him. I should know Ant, I guess.
“Why the fuck did you fall for missionary guy?” he pushes, while I’m still trying to fathom my thoughts.
“It isn’t like that.”
He laughs at that. A nasty, callous laugh that rips up my spine.
“Oh, princess. You must think I’m a stupid fucking fool not to see how you’ve been looking at each other all night long.”
“As friends.”
“Friends who want to kiss each other like they’re on the set of a romcom, let alone the rest of it.”
“You told me to do it! You told me to kiss him!”
“I gave you the option.”
“He looked like he needed the intimacy. He was low!”
Another laugh. “So, you fucked him out of pity, did you?”
I’m so frustrated I could scream. “No! And I didn’t fuck him! You said no, and we stopped!”
“Yeah, you only stopped because I poured cold water on his pitiful fucking efforts. You’d have been all in if I hadn’t. And how about the practicalities? What if he’s been secretly fucking whores in Berlin around his shitty crusader escapades? What if he’d given you, us, some kind of nasty, bullshit infection? He might be fucking seedy guys’ assholes for all you know.”
The thought seems absurd to me, but it only makes me feel more shit and irresponsible.
Ant downs another shot of vodka and I hate myself. The sad thing is that no matter what I say or do now, he will have a rebuttal or an answer for it. In his world, we’ve betrayed him. In his world, I’ve done him wrong. And maybe he’s right. Maybe I have hurt him and fucked him over, intentionally or not.