Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 55171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
“Stormy, please let us explain,” Mel tries to cajole me as if I’m one of her students at the elementary school. I watch as she fixes her dress, so at least I’m no longer seeing her naked ass, and Zach’s either. My eyes close, and I breathe deeply, attempting to figure out what to do next. How am I going to stand in front of three hundred people, tell them the show is over and they missed it in the groom’s dressing room?
“I don’t think there’s much to explain, between Zach saying it’s not what I think and you wanting to explain.” My eyebrows are more than likely touching my hairline with how tight my face feels. “What, did his dick fall into your vag, or should we talk about how you’re so in love with a cheating dirtbag, you’d willingly ruin everything to get what you want?” I see the look in her eyes. This isn’t a quick fling. My idiot best friend is in love with my fiancé. They are both stunned silent, Zach looking everywhere but at me. The horrid dress his mother insisted I wear, the venue she chose, down to the flowers in the reception area, I did it for him, and now look where I am. This was never the wedding I envisioned, and Zach was never the man I was going to live with till the end of time.
“It’s not like that. You have to believe me.” Mel attempts to step toward me. My hand flies up, holding her back because there’s no telling what I’ll do if I have to smell the two of them on her body. It’s one thing for the room to permeate the scent of sex; it’s another to have it flaunted under your nose. Which I mean, isn’t that what they’ve been doing all along? Zach remains silent. Thankfully, his tuxedo pants are zipped up, and I no longer have to see the evidence of their whatever this is.
“How long have you two been screwing each other behind my back?” I ask. Morbid curiosity creeps out of me. I’d like to say maybe I was part of the issue, but I know with every depth of my being it’s not a me thing, it’s a them thing. I witnessed this whole scenario play out with my parents in my teen years, a fourteen-year-old girl watching their dad walk out on them to start a new family with a new wife. It hits you bone fucking deep. Not once did my mom make me feel anything else than loved. She picked up the broken pieces of what she didn’t leave behind while brushing herself off, waiting to cry at night when I was supposed to be asleep. The next morning, she’d wake up and do it all over again until one night, I didn’t hear her cry. I heard her laugh at a television show, and that was when I realized my mom is stronger than any woman I’ve ever met.
“Stormy, what difference does it make?” My eyes narrow on Zach. His hands are in his pockets, tie is askew, hair a mess. The man in front of me isn’t the man I thought I knew. My best friend, though, that’s an even worse betrayal. Zach and Melissa have done the worst of the worst.
“Six months.” Melissa clears her throat, forging on with the conversation. “We’re in love, Stormy.” I watch as my now former best friend moves closer to my now former fiancé, the two of them locking hands together, and that’s all I can take. I need bleach for my eyes in a permanent kind of way. Someone needs to tell the guests what’s going on, and I need three bottles of champagne, stat. I don’t bother responding. My give a damn is busted. Those two lying, cheating scumbags deserve one another. While I was dealing with his nutcase of a mother wanting a perfect wedding for her, catering to her every whim while Zach was supposedly working well into the night and couldn’t so much as help when I asked him to wade between his mother and me. It’s why I’m in this stupid dress, at this stupid country club, with a stupid amount of people I didn’t want in the first place. Obviously, Zach didn’t either. He could have been a man about it, talked to me. I’d have at least been a bit more understanding. As it stands, I’m going to have to tell my mother, my aunt, and Zach’s mother, Christine. Ugh, maybe I won’t actually touch the subject with her. I know how that song and dance will go. She’ll blame the entirety on me.
“Good luck. He told me that, too. I’m leaving. Figure this shit out on your own.” I need to leave the room. There are no tears streaming down my face. That should be telling, right? I should at least be feeling a gamut of emotions. Except I’m not. I’m just done.