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“If you’d prefer, I could not text him, and you could catch an Uber. I have a wedding to get to, so I don’t have the time for this,” I retorted, my eyebrow raised, inviting her to say something else.Any fucking thing. A bastard wasn’t my favorite part to play, but if there was one thing that brought him out, it was entitlement and ignorance.
Trina and I had already discussed expectations. While she was looking to land a man who could keep her relevant, she knew I wasn’t looking for a permanent armpiece. Not because I preferred fucking around or that I feared commitment, but the idea of beingina relationship had me keeping everyone at arm’s length, knowing things would eventually come to an end.
And when you’d experienced the kind of loss I had, it was much easier to keep people at a distance.
Because you couldn’t lose something you never had.
“Don’t bother,” Trina snarled, now in a hurry to gather her things and get out the door. “I’ll get one of my friends to pick me up.”
“Great,” I answered with a shrug, heading for the shower. “Have a nice weekend.”
“Fuck you!” she called after me, the bedroom door slamming closed a moment later.
Thank God.
That was one problem dealt with—with little to no drama—though I’m sure in the near future, I’ll read all about it in some tell-all magazine. The headline reading…
The Bastard Who Fucks Women and
Throws Them Out the Next Morning
For now, I had far bigger fucking problems to deal with.
Namely, a father who hated my existence.
And his money-hungry wife.
Chapter Three
VALEN
A collective gasp sucked the air out of the room, and Jade instantly tossed her bouquet into the crowd before reaching out, attempting to snatch the mic from my hands.
Her fingers wrapped around mine, and she tugged it away from my mouth. “Valen, stop! Don’t do this,” she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper though her eyes were wide, panic plastered across her face. “You don’t understand…”
I shuffled my marshmallow-esque dress back a few steps, yanking the mic from her grip and raising it once again to my mouth. “Honestly, it might be the best gift anyone has given me. To think I could haveactuallymarried this lying, cheating piece of crap.” I swept my arm out toward Chad, who still had yet to move or speak. His lips were pressed so tightly together they turned white, and his eyes narrowed into slits. He was furious—an expression I hadn’t seen often, but now that I had, I was relieved to be making my escape. “Congratulations, Jade. This fine specimen of a man isall yours.”
My voice shook as the hurt I’d been smothering for the past few hours had finally won out despite my determination to keep my shit together. Though, thanks to the large speakers sitting on either side of the altar, everything I said sounded clear and full of confidence. It echoed loudly, bouncing back and forth against the walls and into the tall ceilings of the beautiful old church.
The church I’d soiled with the shitstorm I’d whipped up.
Chairs scraping against the old wooden floors and a chorus of heavy footsteps were my cues to wind things up and get the hell out of there before the floor opened up beneath me.
Or worse.
Before I let these people see me cry.
I tossed the microphone onto the floor, grabbed handfuls of the thick, fluffy tule wedding dress that was all but swallowing me whole, and marched back down the aisle toward the exit. The chaos that had erupted around me made it feel like I was the main character walking out of the final battle scene at the end of a movie, my mission complete and my head held high while explosions and flames erupted behind me.
The fighter.
The survivor.
The hero.
In the moment, I felt like all those things, and yet, none of them at the same time.
Because it hurt.
