Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
"Hey," she huffs, and I laugh.
"He was my best guy friend." I put my arm around her and bring her to me.
"I bet he regrets it," she says softly. I shake my head, and my arm drops from her.
"I can’t go there," I say, getting up. "It’s in the past, and that is where it is going to stay. He’s going to give me a lift to my hotel."
"Well, have fun." She smiles at me. "I’ll call you in the morning." I lean down and kiss her cheek. "Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do," she snickers, and then I shake my head.
I debate going to say goodbye to everyone else, but then it might draw attention to me and the fact I’m leaving with Travis. Walking with my head down to avoid eye contact with anyone, I walk into the room and then see Clarabella and a man close to each other. They spring apart when I walk into the hallway. "I’m sorry." I hold up my hand. "I was just leaving." I point at the brown door at the end of the hallway with the Exit sign on it.
"Leaving?" Clarabella quizzes, folding her arms over her chest, cocking her hip. "Isn’t that interesting?”
Playing dumb, I just smirk. "It’s been a long day." And the alcohol is just enough that I would do something but not something I regret, I want to add in.
"Oh, I bet it has." She smiles. "Chances are it’s going to be even longer." She motions to the brown door. "See you tomorrow, Harlow."
"Nice seeing you, Clarabella." I nod at her. "And you have fun with your friend." I point at the guy who stands there in jeans and a white shirt. His tatted arms look like they’re going to make the shirt split.
She glares at me, and I try to hide the smile when I turn to walk out of the room. The darkness hits me right away, along with the thick humidity. A white limo is right in front of the stairs leading down. He leans on the back of the car, waiting for me. He smiles when he sees me. "I thought you changed your mind," he says when I walk down the four steps as he holds out his hand to help me walk.
"Just saying goodbye." The butterflies start in my stomach, and I’m blaming the booze. He opens the back door and waits for me to get in. I put one leg in and scoot over to the other side, giving him room to sit. He comes in and closes the door, and I can’t help but laugh. "Oh, my," I say, looking at the wedding decorations that are hanging from the back window.
"Just wait until he moves the car," Travis says, and I look at him as the car starts moving, and I can hear cans dinging. I get up, looking out the back window, and see five strings of cans following us. "Does it say just married?"
"It did," he says. "Shelby took a Sharpie and crossed off just and put almost." I throw my head back and laugh.
He reaches for the bottle of scotch I saw him holding. He turns the top, and then it pops with the cork. I grab a glass and keep it for him as he fills them both. He puts the scotch back and takes one of the glasses. Our fingers graze each other, and my nipples perk up at his touch. "Hussy." My head screams at me at the same time as I answer back, "Fuck off."
"To Jackie." He holds up the glass, and I click my glass with his. He takes a sip of his scotch.
"Who is Jackie?" I ask him, taking a sip of the scotch and then wondering if this is even a good idea.
"Jackie," he says, leaning back against the seat, exhaling. "Is Jennifer’s roommate and her best friend." I hold the glass in my lap as he turns toward me now. "And also the one who Jennifer is in love with." My mouth hangs open. "Yeah, that’s about what I did when she told me."
"So, she’s gay?" I ask him, and I’m trying my best not to laugh at him.
"She isn’t sure," he admits, looking down into his glass of scotch. "But she is sure that she doesn’t want to be married." He chuckles. "At least to me, that is."
I sit here shocked, and I have so many questions to ask. "I," I start to say. "Um, did you not suspect?" I ask him and then hold up my hand. "Sorry, it’s not my place." The butterflies that started have moved to knots that are beginning to move up to my throat.
"It’s fine," he assures me, taking another sip, maybe for courage. "What Jennifer and I had," he says, and it’s safe to say that I don’t even want to know. "It wasn’t what we had."