Page 4 of The Bridges I've Burned

An understanding smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he gave a curt nod. “Go,” he said softly.

“Are you sure?” I whispered.

“She obviously needs you. We can do this again,” he insisted.

No thanks.

I bit the corner of my lip, feeling the slightest bit of guilt. But I took him up on the offer and grabbed my purse.

Thank you, I mouthed, bolting before he could get another word in.

Marin was going on about Macon’s pigheadedness as I stepped onto the street and took a left toward my car.

“Okay, I’m out.”

“Oh, thank God. I was running out of things to say.” She laughed, all traces of sadness gone from her voice.

“You really should have pursued acting,” I told her. “That was your best performance yet.”

“My fiancé agrees. Although his pride is a little wounded at the moment.”

“You called me an insensitive bully who wouldn’t know a peony from a primrose,” Macon hollered in the background. “Like you fucking know!”

“Wow, cutting below the belt with the wedding flower insults. Harsh.”

She laughed. “He’s not wrong about that. I have no clue.”

“That’s because you’re an easy bride,” I told her.

The weather was humid and hot. Summer had officially hit Virginia, which meant I was instantly sweating.

How long until fall?

“Tell that to your dates. They all think I’m bridezilla.”

This wasn’t the first date she’d SOS’d me out of this week. I hated being one of those women who needed a friend to bail her out of a date, but it was a jungle out there, and a girl could only take so much.

“Yeah, well, they were all douchebags. Like, I’m truly convinced you snagged up the last good man on earth, Marin. They’re all gone. Every single one.”

“That bad, huh?” she asked as I walked up to my BMW parked along the curb.

“You know when you go on a blind date, and you realize the guy sitting across from you has actually been inside you?”

“No…” she said, drawing out the word in complete horror as I hopped into my car and started the engine.

“Yep,” I answered. “I have fucked my way through the entire city. It’s official.” Her laughter filled the small space as I pulled away from the curb. “This isn’t funny, Marin. This is tragic. And to make matters worse, he didn’t even fucking remember me! I am a forgettable lay.”

How had my life become this tragic?

“Maybe he has a bad memory?” Marin offered as I drove down Main Street and made my way home. “Maybe he’s the one who’s actually fucked his way through the whole city, and he’s such a player that he can’t remember all of them.”

“Gross,” I answered, suddenly grateful for my dry spell. And my clean bill of health. “That doesn’t make me feel any better. Now, I just want a shower.”

“Take a bath,” she suggested. “Go home and sit in that ridiculously large bathtub of yours and try and relax.”

Relax. Right…how did that go again?

“And seriously, let this go. It’s his loss. I mean, was he even good?”

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