Page 80 of Unhinged

Once home, I go into my room, take Frenchie with me, and lock the door. Lying on the bed with her, I cry. Marrying Greg Rodwell is the worst thing I could’ve done.

After a shower, I returned to my room, where I spent most of my day. Eventually, Amos came home and lectured me.

“Simone, how could you and Greg do something this rash without telling me first?”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. You now have a lawful attachment to Greg.”

“I know this. It was his idea. It’s only for a year.”

“This isn’t a joke. Annulments are difficult to obtain in North Carolina.”

“I tried to give him an out several times. He didn’t want it. Would you be this upset if we married for love?”

“No. But today, only one of you did.”

“Neither of us did. I don’t love him.”

Amos left me alone after that. Needing mindless company, I turn on the TV hanging on the wall to the left of my bed. I lie on my side, staring at the wall rather than the TV. This is how I always pictured my wedding night. Nailed it.

After twenty minutes, my phone buzzes with a text from Greg asking me to answer the door. What the hell?

I go downstairs and open the door to see Greg walking onto the porch. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you still be working?”

He shrugs with a confused frown. “I left early.” His gaze studies my maroon pajama shorts and matching button-up, short-sleeve shirt.

“Why?”

“Just wanted to.”

Noticing the snow flurries outside, I step back. “I’m watching a cooking show if you’re interested.”

“Okay.”

Allowing him into the living room. I shut the door. “Do you want a drink?”

“Water. Thanks.”

Going into the kitchen, I gather two glasses as I hear Greg taking off his coat and shoes at the door. I pour us each a bowl of potato chips. I need comfort food with comfort TV.

I leave the kitchen and nod toward the stairs.

My wedding night is only getting weirder.

Chapter 15

She hands me a small bowl of chips, and then I follow her. I would usually stare at her ass in this situation, but my mind is a live wire.

I married Simone. Goddamn, I can’t get over that. I don’t know how to tell my parents. At work, I endured Monty’s unfunny teasing.

“A married man. I bet the missus already has you on a leash and planned your honeymoon.”

“No leash or honeymoon.”

“What about tonight? I mean, you need to seal the deal, right?”

“No.”

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