She sits up, one shoe still half-on. “What’s the point, Daire? You’ll still hate me, and I’ll still hate you, and we’ll still be married.” Instead of flashing me her middle finger, she waves the one adorned with my ring. “The best we can do is be cordial.”

I look away and bite back a curse. I’m livid, but not at her. I’ve been married for a matter of hours, and I’ve already fucked everything up.

She yanks the shoe off and drops it to the floor. “If that’s all you came here for, I have a shower to take.”

“I—”

She bolts out of her chair, ignoring me, and rummages through her dresser. Once she’s found the clothes she’s looking for, she walks out and closes the door behind her.

“Fuck,” I mutter to myself.

I waited all this time to say I was sorry. For as shitty as my day has been, I can’t imagine hers. And there’s no one to blame but me and my big, fat, drunken mouth. Selfishly, it pisses me off that she doesn’t want my apology. That she expected this kind of behavior from me.

And this video? It’s exactly the kind of thing that can be used against me in court.

Fuck.

I cover my face and groan into my hands.

I could wait for her to come out of the shower, but what would be the point?

I get up and let myself out of her room. Bertie is sitting on the couch in her pajamas, legs curled under her and a rom-com playing on the TV. She shakes her head at me, tsking.

“You better fix this,” she hisses. “She doesn’t deserve to be treated like shit by you oranyone else.”

I jerk my head in a nod.

I don’t have the first clue how, but I have to try, because I need her.

8

ROSIE

Almost all mybelongings are packed up and ready to be loaded onto the moving truck. Daire and I haven’t spoken much in the past two weeks. The conversations we have had revolved around coordinating our schedules so we could sign the contracts for the townhouse and get our things moved.

Bertie watches me from my open bedroom door. She refused to help me pack. The day after the wedding, after my shower, after Daire left, I broke down and told her the truth. She’d already put a lot of it together, thanks to the video. Not to mention the girl is a hopeless romantic, so she thought it was weird that I’d never mentioned him before she witnessed the proposal.

She thinks I should have the marriage annulled and stay here. Thus, she refuses to help me move out.

She doesn’t understand that even though he drives me insane now, I still hold so many good memories of him close to my heart. The Daire who used to be my best friend is the Daire I’m helping. Not this version of him.

“If you’re not going to help me, you could at least go away.” I stuff a sweater that fell behind my bed into a box with other miscellaneous things.

Getting down on the floor, I peer under the bed to make sure there aren’t any other rogue articles of clothing hiding.

“Nah.” She holds out her right hand, admiring her fresh pink manicure. “I like the view from here.”

I turn to glare at her from my position on the floor.

“What?” She blinks innocently. “This is more entertaining than reality TV.”

I dig my phone out of my pocket and turn the flashlight on to help my search. “I just need you to be supportive,” I say with my head shove beneath my bed.

“Iam,” she defends. “I can support you and still think you’re being dumb.”

Finding nothing left beneath my bed, I rise from the floor and click the flashlight off. “I don’t think those two things go hand in hand.”

She shrugs. “For me they do.”