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Drunk me is an idiot. Clearly.
I shake my head.
“Yeah, I don’t think so, Becks.”
The girls exchange glances. Mysti shrugs in response to some unstated question.
“What?” I demand, taking a step closer to them.
Sammi apparently decides to be ambassador, raising her hands in peace as she steps toward me.
“Nothing, Perce. It’s just—I mean, is it really such a bad thing? Silver Fox seems like a really nice guy. You do seem to like him…”
“Of course Ilikehim. I like all my guys.”
“Yeah, but—”
“No. Nobuts. I like him just fine.Love,on the other hand? You guys know that I only really love you all. There’s no way I have those feeling for Anton.No. way.”
Sammi shrugs now, looking back at the other girls in defeat.
I groan for what feels like the hundredth time already today.
“Would you guys stop trying to make this into some bullshit love story? We got drunk and decided to get married. It doesn’t mean a damn thing. I’m going to get an annulment. There’s no happy ending here except the one I have myself. Okay?”
“God, Percy. It’s not like anyone here’s ever felt like this before. Did you completely forget who I’m married to?” Sammi says sternly. “Maybe you need to trust yourself a little more.”
Mysti steps forward next, smiling fearfully like I’m about to bite her.
I’m almost entirely certain that I won’t. Though…I guess that really depends on her.
“Percy, I think Sammi’s right. And I’m just not sure that this is as horrible as you’re making it out to be.”
“Of courseit’s horrible. I married my fucking fiancé!”
I hear Becky’s muffled laugh. Sammi’s eyes roll in response.
“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean!”
They nod—hesitant, sure—but it’s something.
“Okay, good. Now that we’re back on the same page, I need some help figuring out what comes next.”
They nod again, all of them looking beyond reluctant.
I get it. They’re romantics. To them, every story’s a fucking love story.
I love that about them; it’s endearing.
When it doesn’t have to do with me, of course.
My story’s not one that ends with wedding bells, though. I know this with absolute certainty.
My story ends with screams of ecstasy. It ends with me deep-throating the cock of some other gorgeous billionaire. And then another.
My story’s just that—my own.
I don’t have room for anything more than that.
