Polished white teeth dazzling the camera.
A perfectly posed “she said yes”among the same snowy mountains I just saw right outside the door to this bookstore.
My ex-boyfriend. A tall, blond, yoga instructor-type on his arm. He’s the one taking a selfie of the two of them, unmistakably from the main street, only a few hundred feet from where I’m currently standing. From the place where I’m all alone, on Christmas, cuddling a stack of monster smut.
In the photo, the woman holds up a diamond on her finger that looks big enough to put a hole in the side of the Titanic.
Oh, and it was posted five minutes ago.
S O motherfucking S, indeed.
I don’t care about engagements or marriage or anything traditional in that sense of a relationship. I truly don’t. But something about seeing him and her and the two of them like that truly blindsides me. My brain does a quick calculation, trying to figure out how he could so quickly move on from ending things with me to now being engaged? Isn’t that the type of life-changing decision that should take a year to make at the very least?
Not barely twelve weeks. Not in the space of three months.
Wait… as I look back at the image, blinking slowly, I realize she looks familiar. There’s a sickening flop in my stomach. They work together. I definitely remember seeing her in photos from somewhere. A conference in Florida wasn’t it?
My fingers go numb.
Of course. How much more of an idiot could I have been? The writing was on the wall this entire time, and I was willing to ignore it.
I was already well aware of his track record, wasn’t I?
Shuffling further between the shelves, I sink into the familiar smell of biblichor and peace that being surrounded by stacks of books always gives. With my back against the wall, I slump to the floor.
Maybe just bury me under an avalanche of smut, Universe? Is that too much to ask?
This would be a fitting penance for my own stupidity. A lovely little bow to wrap up my mistakes and shove them in my face. The irony of the two of them being here, in this same village, and of course, they had to go and get engaged while perched on top of this remote mountain.
Another message comes through. I don’t even want to look, but the masochist in me takes hold, and I do anyway.
Keri:
Fuck.
I’m so sorry, Mia.
You’ll never guess where they’re staying…
She sends a screenshot of an Instagram story from earlier today, showing them checking in to the very ranch where I’m due to be a guest. Just fucking peachy. White spots begin to float across my vision. Am I hyperventilating?
Squeezing my eyes closed, I let my head softly thud against the wall. Hell has nothing on my current situation. This is going to be worse than hell. This is going to be the Christmas of nightmares.
All eyes on poor, single, awkward Mia.
A throaty, masculine cough startles me from my pity party, ticket for one. So much so that I jolt, banging my head even harder this time, spilling my pile of books onto the floor with a yelp.
When my eyes pop open, I’m met with the sight of enormous boots, worn jeans, and an imposing figure looming close.
A deep, velvety voice rumbles over me, causing my jaw to almost hit the floor to join my books.
“Are you alright, ma’am?”
CHAPTER TWO
The figure filling the space in front of me is large enough to eclipse the sun.
As my eyes slowly ascend, I find myself confronted by a whole expanse ofman.A pair of burly thighs, clad in wranglers, the kind that show off impressive outlines of all sorts of leg muscles. With a gulp, my attention hurries past the point where a belt buckle invites me to linger. No way should I outright stare at whatever secrets might be concealed behind that glint of metal.
