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“I’ll keep that in mind,” I tell him as he walks out.
My phone starts ringing and her name flashes across the screen. Bunny.
“He just left.”
“What did he want?” she asks, not even caring to say hello.
“Wants me to become a sponsor for one of his charities.”
“Of course he does, because then that makes him look good.” I can practically feel the eye roll I know she’s giving.
“What do you want me to do?” I ask her, sitting back in my chair, waiting for her to respond.
“You want my opinion?” she asks, sounding almost shocked.
“Yes, Bunny, tell me. You will be my wife soon, or have you forgotten?”
“That’s a hard thing to forget when your ring sits on my finger every day,” she says with more sass than she started the conversation off with.
“That’s not answering my question. Do you want me to give your father money?”
She doesn’t speak straight away. I can hear her breathing on the phone, though. “No.”
“Okay then, I will decline his offer.”
“Whiskey.”
“Yes, Bunny.”
“You’re using me, aren’t you?”
I could deny it, but it wouldn’t be the smart thing to do. “Yes.”
“At least you didn’t lie about it. Now I don’t feel so bad for buying the most expensive dress there was in the designer store.”
Lottie hangs up, and I can’t help the smile that sits on my face.
CHAPTER 19
LOTTIE
I didn’t lie to Whiskey; I did buy the most expensive dress. Though, I didn’t know that until the lady rang it up behind the counter. The dress is a designer’s dream. It’s the exact style I would choose for my real wedding. But since I won’t be having one of those––at least not any time soon––I’m choosing to make this as realistic as possible. Just that the ceremony will be missing that in love part.
“Whiskey,” I say when I answer the phone.
“That dress is six figures Bunny, six figures,” he says into the phone.
“I told you I was buying the most expensive.” I hold the card he gave me wondering what else I can use it on. I mean, I think my old apartment needs furniture for when I move back. After heading into the furniture store, I order the same bed I slept on last night while he goes on and on with the cost of the dress.
“Why are they asking for your card?”
“I liked your mattress,” I tell him.
“Bunny.”
“Scratch that, I loved your mattress.” I moan.
“My mattress is expensive.”
