Page 44 of Forever Writing You

Two Weeks Later

TWENTY-ONE

Dear Guests,

I regret to inform you that my marriage to Carmen Ashley Reese is canceled.

I apologize for any inconvenience this change in plans may cause, and I thank you for RSVP’ing early.

Sincerely,

Everett Anderson

P.S. I don’t “regret” anything. This ridiculous template wouldn’t let me add my own wording to the top of the letter, so I’ll place that here.

Carmen has been cheating on me since the day we met—with multiple men—and was only with me for what I could do for her financially.

If you know a couple in love that wants to be married here in Eads River near our original date, let me know, as I still plan to honor all the contracts with vendors accordingly.

TWENTY-TWO

Everett

“You know, I don’t think you needed to cancel the wedding so abruptly.” Leo walked onto my balcony and handed me a coffee. “You could’ve given it a few more weeks to breathe.”

“So, people are talking?”

“Everyone is talking.” He stepped closer. “I don’t think Carmen will ever be able to show her face in this town again.”

“Good.” I shrugged. “It’s not like she was serious about being a homesteader anyway.”

“You don’t know that,” he said. “The last time I talked to her, she was talking about all types of farm stuff.”

“Like what, Leo?”

“Don’t quote me, but I know she mentioned that she was going to have an exterminator come out every day to make sure she never saw a bug anywhere.”

“Exactly.” I sipped my coffee. “Good riddance.”

“When are you heading back to New York?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “Don’t forget to cancel whatever plans you made for my bachelor party.”

“Oh, right.” He pulled out his phone. “Carmen actually helped me make those. Want to know where she was having us go?”

“Not really.”

“Cool.” He set an envelope on my desk. The seal bore Dahlia’s handwriting, so I put it where I’d placed the three others she’d sent me this week.

I was still processing everything she’d told me, trying to convince myself she was wrong. That I would’ve stayed and not regretted a thing, but all I could remember was all the baby talk between our mothers. How she must’ve felt hearing how excited everyone was about “a day that had a five percent chance of coming…”

“If you haven’t canceled the Ibiza honeymoon,” Leo cleared his throat, interrupting my thoughts, “can I push up the date and take my girlfriend instead?”

“That’s the real reason you came here to see me, isn’t it?”

“What?” He scoffed. “Not at all, man. I can’t believe you think I’m that selfish.”

I crossed my arms.

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