AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Or at the very least,” said Noah. “Give her a chance to explain herself.”
They were right, and I knew it. I’d run at the first sign of problems. Maybe I was being a coward, thinking it’d be easier to drop it all and run back to what I knew rather than do something difficult, something that might force me to take down my walls and expose myself to the woman I loved.
“And now,” said Theo. “You know what you have to do.”
No point in even trying to defend myself.
“OK,” I said. “I’m gonna put my head on the chopping block and let her decide if she wants to take the swing.”
“Pretty morbid,” said Theo with a smile. “But your head’s in the right place.”
“Especially in that metaphor,” said Will.
“But you’re right,” said Noah. “You fucked up, bud. And right now you know what you want, but it’s not your call to make.”
It was settled. But by this point I was sure that I’d spent way too much time talking about my own crap. I raised my glass, which I hadn’t touched at that point.
“All right,” I said. “Enough about my problems. You guys are getting married tomorrow, and right now that’s where my head’s at. So, cheers!”
We cheersed and tapped our glasses. And as I looked down at the nachos, I realized that, for the first time since they’d been set down, they actually looked pretty damn good.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
SHANIA
After weeks and weeks of planning, after all the parties and cake tastings and dress trying-on, it was finally the day of the wedding.
And all I could do was try to keep it together.
I was upset about what had happened between me and Sean—no doubt about that. But while I was sad, sure, I was pretty damn pissed too. Not only at him, which I was sure I certainly had a right to be, but more than that, I was pissed at myself.
After all, I should’ve known better. All those years ago Sean had loved and left me, tossed me aside like I didn’t mean a thing to him. And now, years later, he’d done the same damn thing. Sure, at least this time he’d had the decency to deliver the news to my face, but the principle was the same.
I guess that’s considered “growing up” for some people—the guys who one-night-stand you in your twenties “mature” and become guys who screw you for a few months before telling you it’s over, not even giving you an explanation.
“You cool over there?” asked Katy as I sat on the armrest of a very nice, flower-patterned couch in the dressing room of the Ebell, the place a flurry of activity as dresses were put on and makeup was applied and all the other behind-the-scenes wedding stuff went down.
She stepped over and sat down the couch like a normal person, her eyes heavy with concern.
“Oh, shit,” I said. “Am I really advertising my emotions that much?”
She shrugged. “I mean you are,” she said. “But I don’t think it’s going to attract too much attention. The girls are a little…distracted.”
Sure enough, Pepper and Sam were over on the other side of the room, a small team of stylists making sure their gowns and makeup and hair were picture perfect. And they looked amazing. Pepper was in a flowing, patterned gown that looked like something out of a princess’s dreams. Sam was in something a little more modern and sleek, the dress hugging her form in a way that was kinda sexy without being scandalous.
“I feel like I’m being so selfish,” I said. “Two of my best friends are getting married on the same day, and I can’t stop thinking about my own stupid problems for two seconds.”
“It’s fine,” said Katy. “You got a raw deal—you’re right to be pissed off.”
The girls and I had gone out last night for some “final night of freedom” drinks. Before the celebrations, I’d sworn to keep myself in check and not turn into a crying mess on what was supposed to be a fun night with friends. But when I finally realized I needed some fresh air and to let my head decompress, Katy happened to catch me alone on the back patio.
And I couldn’t help but let it all out.
Luckily for me, Katy had always been the listening type. She took it all in while I went on and on about what had gone down between me and Sean, and when it was all over—even allowing myself a few tears—I felt better. Kind of. The sort of “better” where you’re not quite over it, but you’re ready to at least start the process of moving on.
“No one but myself to blame,” I said, repeating what I’d said over and over again last night. “I fell for him like I did back in the day, and now I’m paying the price.”
