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Chapter 1
Arin
“F**K YOU, YOU CHEATING SCUMBAG!”
This isn’t one of my prouder moments. But everybody has their limits, and I’m no exception.
“Marina, calm down,” Corey says over the phone, his voice anything but soothing. “You need to give me a chance to explain.”
“Explain?” I echo, incredulous. “What’s there to explain? I caught you sleeping with our wedding planner hours before our wedding!”
People are full-on staring now, not that I can blame them. I’d stare, too, if some teary-eyed, hysterical lady was cussing her ex-fiancé up and down in the middle of the airport’s first-class lounge.
This is a nice place, complete with complimentary buffet and champagne, luxuriously spacious leather seats, and massive flatscreens everywhere to entertain you while waiting for your flight. And then there’s me, hair still up in partial curls and my mascara all runny, ruining the hours I spent in the makeup chair transforming myself into a blushing bride.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. In another universe, Corey would be at my side, waiting for our first-class flight to Hawaii for our month-long honeymoon. A weaker person might go home, hide in shame and humiliation at having been told the groom was caught fucking the wedding planner on the church organ’s keys.
Except I don’t have a home to go back to. The house was given to him by his parents. The car’s in his name. Every small comfort I took for granted before was only possible because Corey paid for them. After we graduated from high school, he promised to provide. Filled my head with stupid ideas of how he’d go off to work and make all the money, that I wouldn’t have to worry about anything. He said he didn’t like the thought of me having to work. He’d take care of everything. He’d take care ofme.
Stupid, I know. So fucking stupid, but hindsight’s twenty-twenty.
Screw him.
“You’re being emotional, Arin,” Corey says bitterly. “Just come home so we can work things out. You’re not going on our fucking honeymoon without me.”
“Watch me.”
“Jesus Christ, Arin. You’re overreacting.”
“Do you really think I’m going to let you gaslight me into thinking any of this is okay?”
“I can’t talk to you when you get like this.”
“Get like what? Justifiably angry?”
“Look, I’m under a lot of pressure, okay? All this wedding planning shit… I’ve been so stressed out.”
“I’ve been stressed out too, Corey, but guess which one of us had enough goddamn self-control to keep their legs shut!”
“I made a mistake, alright? Would you just come home so we can figure this out?”
“Fuck no! I never want to see your face again!”
“So you’re justnevercoming back? You need me, Arin. How are you going to support yourself?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll finally put myself through fashion school. My inheritance from Granny Ruth has been sitting there for me for years. It’s about time I use it.”
“Not again with this stupid fashion school nonsense! If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times. There’s no fucking way you’re going to make a living as a designer!”
I take a deep breath, so angry I can feel my pulse vibrating through my teeth. I genuinely, from the bottom of my heart, thought Corey was my one.
But this betrayal cuts too deep. My pride’s bruised black and blue, and I’m nowhere close to giving him even an ounce of forgiveness.
“Here’s an idea, Corey,” I say firmly and clearly. “Shove your hand so far up your own ass that you can give yourself a handshake, m’kay?”
I hang up, numb from head to toe. My cheeks are warm, my eyes puffy from crying. A few people in the lounge are nice enough to give me pitying looks. Some of them whisper, others shoot judgmental glances in my direction. I clearly don’t fit in here, but I’m not going anywhere. If I’m not going to enjoy a fairytale wedding, I’m sure as hell going to treat myself to the all-you-can-eat shrimp, margaritas, and palm-sized lemon cakes they’re serving for free here.
Beside me, a low chuckle catches my attention.
