Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“You just come on down to John’s, honey. There’re loads of people who want to see you. They’re real excited you’re back in town.”
Of course they’re excited! I’m sure they’re lining up in droves to witness my demise.
I can’t believe I’m here right now, stuck in these circumstances. I had a carefully laid plan for my life, and up until recently, it was all going swimmingly. For the last twenty-six years, I’ve been a perfect daughter, perfect sister, perfect student, then after graduation, a perfect wedding coordinator and perfect fiancée. Turns out being perfect isn’t enough of a safeguard against the trials and tribulations of life because you can be perfect and still walk into your house on a Monday evening with plans to cook a delicious and complicated chicken soufflé for your handsome fiancé only to find him sitting in the living room—home early from work—nursing a bourbon sour. He looks up at you with pitiful blue eyes and stares you square in the face as he explains that he’s fallen out of love with you. In fact, he’s in love with someone else. In one-tenth of a second, your perfect life can pop like a balloon, and you’re left picking up the pieces in the dusty parking lot of John’s Ice House.
This is the last place I want to be tonight, but Pam is tugging me through the door and it’s too late to turn back now. My presence is already drawing attention and—
Lord have mercy.
I scan the crowded bar and feel the color drain from my face. The whole town’s crammed in here. Clearly, my mom’s taken it upon herself to invite everyone: my choir teacher from sixth grade, my high school track coach, and—is that…? It is. The mayor.
“Madison. Oh my god. Look at you!”
A blonde woman puts herself directly in my path and opens her arms to me, and I have a moment of panic because I have absolutely no idea who she is. Her bouffant hair is teased with so much product it nearly reaches the ceiling.
“That’s Jolene. She had her nose redone,” Pam whispers, and I’m suddenly grateful I have her by my side.
“Jolene, hi.” I smile tightly.
Jolene juts out her bottom lip and reaches for my forearm. “Now listen, I know you’ve had a rough little breakup, but you barely look like you’re going through it.” She looks up at my hair and cringes like my lack of volume physically pains her. “You’re welcome to borrow my comb if you want to run into the bathroom and touch up. I have some hairspray in my purse too.”
My hair is fine. Everything is fine.
“Thank you,” I say in lieu of something worse.
Behind her, there’s a train of people waiting to step right up and offer their greetings, backhanded words of wisdom, and sage advice for how I should move on from my ex-fiancé, Matthew.
“If I were you, I’d date his brother,” someone tells me before another person chimes in with, “Better yet, sleep with his dad!”
It’s my mom who finally saves me from the pandemonium, cutting through the crowd to get to me, her hair so blonde it’s almost white. Queenie McCall is everything you’d expect from a retired small-town beauty queen. Fifty-something means nothing to her. She’s still a bombshell, the life of the party, the last one to leave any social gathering, and one of the cutest dressers I know. Tonight, she’s wearing a lime green caftan that complements her tan skin along with gold bangles and a few layered necklaces. I will, at some point, steal her entire look.
“MY GIRL!” she squeals when she gets ahold of me. Around and around she twirls us until I feel unsteady on my feet.
When I protest, she finally holds me back at arm’s length so she can look me over. “You are the most precious thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Then she tugs me back in, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I’m so happy you’re home, baby girl. That man didn’t deserve you.”
I’m suddenly awash with a feeling of comfort I’ve been missing in Montgomery. I close my eyes and inhale her familiar floral scent, but all too soon she spins us toward the bar and raises her voice. “Lenny! You get my girl a shot of Fireball. We’re welcoming her home in style!”
Everyone crowds in around us, and I knock back two shots before I finally extricate myself and go in search of my brother, David. My mom told me she thought she saw him playing pool in the back, so that’s where I head. I weave through the crowd with my head down, trying to skim past tables without making eye contact, but in the doorway to the back room, I’m waylaid by Hunter Bryce, my old classmate and overall goofball.