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Chapter 29
Mysti May
2:30 PM SATURDAY
The reminder that there’s someone who wants me dead really sucks the life out of the room.
“Are you not, like, scared?”
“Well, yeah.” I look at Becky and shrug. “I mean, the adrenaline is still pumping a little bit right now…but as soon as it wears off, I’ll probably need to go change into some new panties.”
Itisterrifying that someone wants to kill me, but it’s also just another bullet point on my long list of problems that have to be solved. I almost wish it was something that terrified me more—but nowadays, after everything, I know that as long as I’m alive and the gun isn’t between my eyes, it’s not really a priority.
This is why I need a man like Norbert.
Nights out with Brendon leave me struggling to put the pieces back together—and wickedly hungover. Although I know he’d never let me get hurt and that I could rely on him for anything, if I was married to Norbert, then I wouldn’t be in these situations anymore.
It’s not fair to do this to Brendon—to get his hopes up like this after last night and then to dash them again in the morning. I wish I didn’t have to. But there’s a white dress in Tijuana with my name on it, and it’s too late to back out of it now just because my first crush is suddenly free, single and ready to mingle.
I shake my head, both dispelling the dark cloud about the hitman and my thoughts about Brendon. If I want to get him to sign the papers, then I can’t waste my time thinkingabouthim over the mystery.
“Anyway, don’t you wanna hear about the dentures?”
“Oh, yeah, go on then.”
“Well, we came back here to the casino last night…” I trail off and tell them everything that I remember. I gloss over how I gave head to Brendon under a slot machine and how he later fucked me in the ass and sprayed me with chips as we came.
As excited as Becky is about me being her new sister, I really don’t think that involves hearing about how I fucked her brother.
“But, yeah, and after we got the dentures and were, y’know,finishedin the back room…” I look guilty around the lobby, as though expecting Norbert to be able to hear my every word. “I proposed.”
“Youproposed? I thought it would have been Brendon who asked you!”
“I know!” I almost shout, and, as an old couple in Hawaiian shirts gives us a dirty look, I pull myself back together. “But no, I popped the question, and he said yes, and then we hit up Elvis.”
Percy raises both of her eyebrows, but she doesn’t look too surprised. “You reallydidhave a Las Vegas wedding.”
“But, Mysti…if you’re the one who proposed, how can you be so desperate to get back to Norbert?”
Of course, Becky would ask me that. Like brother, like sister.
But, unlike Brendon, I can’t demand divorce papers from Becky to keep her from questioning me too hard.
“I was drunk,” I say as a weak explanation, even shrugging my shoulders for emphasis.
“Is that really an excuse? Alcohol just takes away our inhibitions…”
“I was drunk and out of my head from coming and showered in casino chips. I was high on the moment; you know how it is…”
Can they tell that I’m just spit-balling excuses now? So maybe therewasa part of me that really did—really does—want to be married to Brendon. Maybe me being drunk let her loose and allowed her to get what she wanted.
But I’m sober now, and it’s time to be a real grownup, who marries reliable men and leaves this kind of life behind her.
Becky and Sammi look at me with raised eyebrows, clearly thinking that I’m full of shit. I’m pretty sure that Percy feels the same, but the disbelief on her face is wiped away in favor of changing the subject.
And I can’t be more grateful.
The more that we talk about Brendon, the more time ticks away. And the more we talk about Brendon, the more my heart aches. It’s almost enough to make me wish we had more of that “Knockout” tequila.
