Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Get a grip. This is what you want.
“Hell, we’d better get a move on, or we’ll be late,” Henry says, putting down the bottle and offering me his arm. “Let’s roll, Cinderella.”
I force a smile and accept his arm, grateful for it because I’m not sure I’m going to be able to do this by myself.
How am I going to walk down the aisle?
When all I really want to do is run.
2
BROOKE
It’s a long twenty-minute drive to the church, and I feel every second of every minute.
But if I thought my nerves were rocky during the car ride over, they were nothing compared to the moment I see Wilson’s best friend, Chad, waiting for us by his slick Aston Martin parked in the church parking lot. Something isn’t right. He’s Wilson’s best man, but he’s not wearing his suit.
He walks over, and Henry rolls down the window.
“Is everything alright?” Henry asks.
Chad looks uncomfortable. “There’s no easy way to tell you this.”
I don’t really like Chad. He’s preppy and a showoff and only likes you if you have money. He doesn’t like me either because I’m not rich or connected, and since I came along, he hasn’t had his usual wingman to cruise the bars and clubs with while he hunts for his next hookup. But we tolerate each other because of Wilson.
“Spit it out,” Henry says with an edge to his voice.
Chad runs his palm across the nape of his neck. “He’s not coming.”
I frown. “What do you mean he’s not coming? Has something happened?”
“He’s gone, Brooke, and I don’t know if he’s coming back.”
I stare at him blankly. “I don’t understand.”
“We were supposed to meet at your apartment this morning. But when I arrived, I found a note pinned to the door. It said, ‘Tell Brooke I’m sorry.’”
My head swirls with the information.
My hand goes to my stomach.
I feel sick.
“What the hell is going on?” Henry demands.
Chad looks uncomfortable, and it’s clear he doesn’t know. Wilson has left him out of the loop too. “That’s all I know. His father and brother are inside advising all the guests that the wedding’s off.”
The mental image makes me feel like I’m going to bring up the champagne I had earlier.
“So you haven’t spoken to him?” I ask.
“When I saw the note, I called him. It was only a quick phone call.”
“And what did he say?” Henry demands.
“He said he had to get out of town. Needs time away to think.”
I try to swallow the cold lump in my throat. “To think about what?”
“How the hell am I supposed to know?”
Henry snaps, “You’re his best friend.”
“Yeah, well, this has come as a bit of a surprise even to me.”
Henry glares at him. “If you’ve known this since earlier this morning, then you’re an asshole for waiting until Brooke got here to tell her. You could’ve called the hotel, yet you let her come down here thinking she’s about to get married. Where is your fucking compassion?”
“Does it matter? She’s not getting married either way.”
Henry throws Chad a murderous glare. “There is a special place in hell for people like you.”
My stomach churns as I watch Chad walk away from us and climb into his car.
“Who has my phone?” I ask my three bridesmaids sitting opposite Henry and me.
Chloe quickly retrieves it from the small clutch sitting beside her on the bench seat and hands it to me.
No missed calls.
But there is a message.
And it’s from Wilson.
Sorry babe.
That’s it?
Two pathetic little words.
That’s all he could manage for standing me up at our wedding. Hell, I had cold feet too, but at least I showed the fuck up.
My breath leaves my lungs, and I drop the phone. Henry quickly picks it up and reads the message.
“Right, driver, please take us back to the hotel,” he says, his usually charismatic voice clipped with anger.
He passes the phone to Elsa, who shows Chloe and Samantha, who automatically jump into damage control.
Samantha: “You’ve obviously dodged a bullet.”
Chloe: “He doesn’t deserve you.”
Samantha: “But he does deserve the fist in the nose I’m going to give him when I see him again.”
Chloe: “Let’s get you home, and we can work out your next move.”
Samantha: “We can pick up more champagne on the way, then plan all the different ways we can murder Wilson bloody Peyton and how we’re going to dispose of his body.”
Elsa rubs her very pregnant belly and gives me a sober look. “What do you want to do, Brooke?”
Good question.
What do I want to do?
I can’t even cry.
I feel hurt. Humiliated. Pissed off.
Yet, there is another feeling simmering quietly beneath the rest of them.
Relief.
3
BROOKE
I don’t want to go back to the hotel where I spent last night with my bridesmaids. I want to see the empty apartment for myself so I can start believing that this is actually happening to me. Except when I arrive, dressed in my wedding gown and veil, I walk into the apartment to see all of his stuff is gone, and I have to sit down and take a breath. He’s really gone. All his clothes in the wardrobe. Gone. All his expensive sneakers. Gone. Toothbrush. Gone.