Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 39947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Murmurs erupted from every corner of the room. Two graying men with Gru-like expressions stood up from the first row and made their way to me. One of them I recognized as Connor’s dad, and I assumed the other one was Kellianne’s dad.
“Take the check, Layla. Do as I say. Start fresh. Forget this ever happened. That these two worlds collided. That my son and you ever entertained the idea of being together.”
I didn’t have much time.
“Kellianne!” I called out, turning to look at her. Her chin trembled as she stared at me. Even through the thick sheet of tears and from afar, I could see the distinct look of confusion, disbelief, and betrayal.
“Please don’t do this.” I pressed my palms together. “He is a terrible partner. I was with him for three years. He dictated what I could wear, eat, and watch. Who I could hang out with. He put down all of my friends. Even the ones he’d cheated on me with. He made me feel stupid, incapable, and insecure. Always told me I needed to lose weight, change my hair, change my perfume. He slept with multiple people while we were together, one of them graciously gifting him an STI. He’d always been bad about giving gifts, but this was a stretch.” Revealing this in front of a venue full of people was not something I’d necessarily add to my CV; then again, I couldn’t not warn her off. “And I hate to admit it, but even that didn’t make my dumb twenty-one-year-old ass dump him. It took so much worse for me to realize he was a terrible human.”
I was breathless, panting, the memories gripping my wrists and ankles like vines, pulling me under to a place dark and suffocating. His exes murmured among themselves, elbowing one another. There was excitement in the air. And while I didn’t verbally get their support, I had a feeling they were rooting for me.
The two men were almost at my row. It was time to wrap things up.
“I went along with it because I was dazzled by his good looks and his family’s pedigree. And I’m here to tell you that looks wear off and that conditional money will imprison, not free you.” Finally, finally, I moved. I was squeezing my way past knees and feet, trying to worm out of the row of chairs and make a run for it before their fathers got to me. “When push came to shove, when I needed him, he let me down. He harassed and abused me. He and his entire family.”
“She is a disgruntled ex.” Connor pointed at me, his manicured finger shaking. Maybe he was still handsome, with his honey-brown hair, three-hundred-dollar haircut, and square chin, but I couldn’t see past that ugly personality. “I broke up with her and she never got over it. I mean, really? Telling someone they need to lose weight is abusive now? Kelly, baby, you have to believe me.”
I was already hurrying across the plush white carpet and out the double doors. I didn’t want to wait for the elevator. Not when I was sure their fathers were still after me. I ripped the heels from my feet, gathered them by the stilettos, and took the stairs two floors down instead, then waited for an elevator.
I was nauseous with adrenaline. My hair stuck to my sweaty forehead. And I couldn’t, for the life of me, put my shoes back on, because my hands were so shaky.
What had I just done?
I’d ruined a wedding. I’d opposed a marriage. Jesus Christ, I was going to hell. My skin was too fair for that climate. I’d chosen New York for a reason.
My thoughts swam in my head, lacking any coherent direction.
They were probably still getting married right now. And yet, I didn’t regret it. I’d done my civil duty. I’d warned her off. What she did from this point onward was on her.
I fished my phone out of my purse and stared at the screen.
Who do you call, Layla Schmidt, when the world’s just come crumbling down on your head and someone needs to pick up the pieces?
Maddie, of course. My best friend in the entire world. But she’d insist on picking me up, and her pregnancy sickness was through the roof. No, it was too late. And she was so tired that she wasn’t even reaching for remotes these days.
Calling my parents was always an option. They lived in Jersey now. But I honestly couldn’t think of anything more depressing than running back to Mommy and Daddy to lick my twelve-year-old wounds that had just reopened.
That left me with one option.
I opened my text message box with Grant Gerwig. The last time we’d texted was a month ago. Him telling me I forgot my hoodie at his place. Me never replying because . . . well, that’s how we were. Casual. Uncommitted. Free to come and go as we pleased (all puns intended).