Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 212458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1062(@200wpm)___ 850(@250wpm)___ 708(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 212458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1062(@200wpm)___ 850(@250wpm)___ 708(@300wpm)
My back goes straight. I frown. He never used to talk to me like that. But the last couple of months… since we got engaged…
“Baby?” Mason’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. “If you need to be there for your sister because of issues with her life that have her upset, why isn’t he calling to find out how he can help with the other stuff? Sounds like he’s a passive aggressive shithead. Why isn’t he saying that people need answers but because your hands are full, he’s happy to give those to them if you tell him how to help? Or tell people they need to either wait or fuck off because you’ve got other important things on the go?”
My shoulders slump. My throat goes dry. And I just stare at him.
“Inappropriate songs? What does that even mean?” he asks.
I roll my lips, wetting them.
Hopping down from the counter, Mason keeps talking, “Doesn’t matter anyway, you’re done with him. We’ll leave first thing in the morning so you can tell him.”
I continue to stare.
Making eye contact, he struts toward me, and it takes everything in my power to hold that gaze without flinching, blinking, or showing any emotion whatsoever.
Because, by a thread…I have to hold onto all my emotions right now.
Because Mason Quinn doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know my fiancé either. But he’s just figured out in the span of a one-minute voicemail what Ivy said to me last week. Rick is a total and complete dick.
And I’ve been so fucking blind. How did I not realize what’s been happening to me?
Blind. Blind by obligation based on my promises. Blind by guilt. Blind by the notion that a life with Rick makes sense. Because of the fact that the future he wants is something I can actually give him.
But this wedding is supposed to be ours, not anyone else’s and why the fuck is it so important what the music choices are, what color the flowers are, whether my bridesmaids wear their hair up or down, or all the other shit that’s been the subject of debate for weeks on end? What should matter the most is the marriage. And that’s the thing that I’m most concerned about all of a sudden because when this glamorous wedding is over, and I should not be so beaten down by the planning that I just want it fucking over, what’s left? The marriage. The marriage with the guy that’s supposed to love me, cherish me, protect me, emotionally support me, and want me to have everything I want in life. Not to mention want me in general.
Is Rick Bullock that guy?
I feel sick.
Because he’s not.
He doesn’t want me. He certainly doesn’t support me emotionally. Why is he even with me?
All I can see now are all the wrong things. All the relenting I’ve had to do. Not compromise, like Mason said earlier. There’s no compromise with my relationship with Rick. There’s relenting. Sacrificing. But it’s always me.
All the things I’ve been giving up that I was willing to give up for the right reasons – for him – but he’s not been willing to give up a single thing for me. Not one single thing. He’s never on my side.
He doesn’t look at me the way Mason does. Nobody ever has. And yeah, it’s magic, it’s witchcraft – so, it’s not even real, but damn if it doesn’t make me want more than what I have.
I want something real. I want something that’s mine. My wedding day. My own anniversary. I already have to share my birthday with my sister who I’ve always joked was my first birthday present, but truthfully, to have my own anniversary might have been nice. Not to mention, a ring on my finger that I might actually like.
And should I be marrying someone if I’m dreading my honeymoon with them? If he can’t even hear me about that…
It’s strange how I went about life feeling like it was all good, all normal, all just… my thing. A day in the life of Amelia Brennan.
But a day away from it and poof… I suddenly see how unfulfilling it all is. How it’s just not what I want for myself.
I’ve been losing myself. Bit by bit. Day by day. And I want myself back. I want color in my life. I want my voice to matter.
This shit sucks. It sucks hard.
But the veil is down, and I see things for what they are.
And I’m suddenly not sad. Not stressed. I’m suddenly really, really angry. And I’m something else, too.
“I’m done,” I state.
Mason tilts his head.
Yep. Done.
“I’m done with this shit.”
“Good.” He straightens up.
“I’m going there now. Right now and I’m telling him we’re done.” I stomp my foot.
Mason’s eyebrows fly up. “I’ll take you.”
“Yeah?” I feel tears threaten, feeling moved, for some reason, at his support. I beat them back.