Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
I close my eyes . . .
“You okay?”
“I’ll be out in a minute,” I say in as happy a voice as I can.
My heart beats harder. Damn it.
Leave me alone.
“Okay, see you outside,” he says. The door opens and closes, and I put my hand over my mouth and sob out loud.
I don’t want to be this person.
“Open the door,” Blake’s voice snaps.
Shit.
“I’m fine, Blake.”
“Open it, or I’m climbing over the top.”
Damn it. I open the door, and the minute I see his face, I burst into tears.
“Hey.” He wraps me in his arms. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I snuggle into his chest as he holds me. The lump in my throat hurts so bad as I try to hold my tears in.
“Bec. What’s wrong?” he whispers into my hair. “Talk to me.”
“Nothing, I’m being stupid.”
“No, you’re not.”
“It’s just . . . it’s just . . . failure is running through my veins like poison.”
“Babe.” He holds me tighter.
“This isn’t what I thought my life would be,” I whisper. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this. I don’t want to be a divorcée.”
“I know,” he says softly.
“And you’re completely right. I am a train wreck.”
He smiles against me. “I may have exaggerated the train wreck part, but in my defense, you did call me one first.”
I look up at him.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he says softly as he wipes my tears away with his thumbs. “We’re going to forget that we had a fight, and we’re going to forget that you ever got married, and we’re going to go out there and celebrate with our friends, and you’re going to start again.”
“But . . .”
“No buts; no more living in the past.” He kisses my forehead. “That’s it. Those are the last tears you will ever cry over him.”
“It’s not even him I’m crying about.” I sniff, feeling stupid. “He’s an idiot. This isn’t about him.”
“What’s it about, then?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Lost dreams, I guess.”
He gives a subtle shake of his head.
“What?” I look up at him.
“We’re a fucking mess, you and me.”
“How so?”
“You only like players; I only like party girls. Neither of which can give us the desired outcome we want.”
“Train wrecks,” I reply.
“Total fucking train wrecks. Come on.” He pulls me out of the stall and turns on the tap. “Dry your eyes, crybaby, and snap out of it.”
I give a halfhearted smile.
“Because today is the last day that you and I are going to live like this.”
“Like what?”
“In the past.”
I blink, confused. “I know I do . . . but . . . how do you live in the past?”
He shrugs casually, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. “I think I’m twenty-one.”
“Feeling twenty-one is not a bad thing, Blake.”
“It is if you act it, and you were right—everything you said to me is true. I am a walking red flag.”
I smile sadly.
“And for the record, I probably do have syphilis in my dick; it wouldn’t surprise me.”
I bite my lip to hide my smile. “I can’t believe you got your dick pierced.”
He cocks his leg and rearranges his crotch. “I actually have an ice pack in my underpants right now.” I laugh out loud, and he does too. “Oh,” he says, “I’ve been dying to ask—are you a foot millionaire by now?”
“No,” I scoff with a roll of my eyes.
“No?”
“I haven’t sold one single picture.”
“Not one?”
“Nope.”
“Meh.” He shrugs. “Those weirdos don’t know hot feet when they see them.”
He bumps me with his shoulder, and I bump him back.
I think our fight is over.
The violins sound, and I hunch my shoulders up in excitement. “This is it, Jules.”
We are at the top of the garden, about to walk down the aisle. We can see the boys in their black suits down below, waiting for us under the arch.
She bounces around on the spot. “I can’t believe this is actually happening.”
She’s wearing a fitted white lace dress and the most beautiful antique veil; it was her great-grandmother’s. Her hair is up, and I’ve never seen a more beautiful bride. She is literally glowing.
I kiss her cheek. “Go marry your man.”
She laughs again. Her excitement is palpable. Chloe pulls her into a hug and then begins to walk down the aisle in slow double steps. I take off next and make my way down. Chloe and I are wearing ice-blue strapless dresses. I feel like a glamorous Grace Kelly; the dresses have a real old-Hollywood vibe.
As I get closer, I see that Henley is watching his beloved Juliet walk down the aisle to him through tears.
Oh . . .
I look around to see that both Blake and Antony are choked up too.
My heart.
We take our places and turn to watch Juliet on her father’s arm walk the last of the aisle. As Henley wipes his tears with the backs of his hands, Juliet is giggling like a schoolgirl. She’s practically running to get to him.