AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Me: Of course I want to marry him.
I also wanted to put his balls on a chopping board and cleave them off with a dull, rusty butcher knife.
Me: I’m just a little miffed with him at the moment.
Mia: What did he do?
Me: He’s having a bachelor party.
Mia: I’m aware. My husband is the best man.
I rolled my eyes at how condescending she came across in the text. Ugh. Sometimes it was like I had another sister, and I had plenty of experience with what bitches they could be. Lucky for Mia, I loved her. Plus, she was only a few weeks postpartum, so I would excuse her bitchiness.
Me: Are you also aware that YOUR HUSBAND is getting some chick to jump out of a cake?
Mia: …
Another half-dry, half-hysterical laugh pushed free while I watched those three dots hover in the bubble.
Me: Oh, did I forget to mention—a topless chick?
Mia: Say what now?!
There was the reaction I was waiting for. The one that would possibly get Barrick’s junk chopped off even before I could get the cleaver and find my fiancé.
Me: I just saw the email with the instructions from the event planner.
Me: I guess they sent them to the shared work email instead of Barrick’s personal one.
Mia: Hold on a sec. I gotta go kill my husband.
Mia: And then we’re planning a weekend in Vegas.
Mia: No men allowed. I’ll make sure of it. Just let me call my mom.
Dropping my phone back on the couch, I went back to doing my homework. Luckily, I could do these formulas in my sleep, because I couldn’t stop the anger from rising from a simmer to a full-on boil. He was in his home office on a call with a client who was two hours behind us, so I couldn’t burst into the room and demand to know who the fuck he thought he was.
But I sure as fuck wasn’t going to just sit there and let the little details he’d been adamant about me not having at my own party be a huge feature at his own.
I didn’t even want to go to some strip club. Not really. And Vegas was blah. Especially in freaking August. Dry heat, my ass. Plus, I was only eighteen. Wasn’t like I would get to gamble or drink or anything else fun that Mia and Lyla could do.
Realizing that a Vegas weekend wasn’t what I wanted at all, I quickly texted Mia to get her to come up with something else, because none of that sounded fun.
Mia: As soon as I called my mom, I realized that Vegas isn’t exactly doable. One, you aren’t old enough. Two, I’m breastfeeding and don’t want to leave my baby overnight. And three, I’m not any more thrilled about seeing some stranger swing his junk in my face than you are.
Dejectedly, I texted her back simply.
Me: Yeah.
Mia: Plus, I just logged in to Barrick’s work emails and saw the one you were talking about. This is fishy.
I didn’t like that word. “Fishy” just sounded wrong in my head. Like “moist” did to other people.
It felt wrong.
Gross.
Grumbling, I hit connect on my friend’s name and lifted the phone to my ear. “What do you mean?” I asked as soon as she answered.
