Page 8 of Forced Marriage Vows

My mind flashes back to the bizarre conversation I had with said best friend last night. Although “conversation” is a bit of a stretch. He showed up like a creeper, ordered me to take off my shoes, and handed me brand-new sneakers. Everything about it was weird. The fact that he knew I needed a shoe change, him buying me the sneakers and knowing my size. The man is impossible to decode. I consider asking Anthony about him but he’d immediately get suspicious so I keep my mouth shut.

My brother grumbles something incoherent under his breath before collapsing back into the couch. I observe him for a couple of seconds.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask. “Anything going on?”

He gives me a look. “I had too much to drink, Ana. It happens. Plus, it was my birthday.”

“I’ve never seen you like that before,” I say worriedly.

He sighs before sitting up. “Don’t make that face. I’m only going to tell you this because I know you’re a worrywart and you won’t stop thinking something’s wrong if I don’t debunk any crazy notions flying about in your head,” he says, face completely serious, which makes me worry even more. Anthony’s never serious.

I sit up, waiting for him to tell me he’s sick or having problems with work. Anything to explain his behavior last night. He pauses dramatically, stretching the moment.

“Spit it out already,” I snap.

“My girlfriend broke up with me,” he finally confesses.

My right eye twitches. “Well that explains why you were so flirty last night. Are you serious right now?”

“As a heart attack.”

I grab one of the small pillows in the chair and throw it at his face. “You asshole, I was worried something was wrong!”

“Something is wrong,” he defends. “I got my heart broken.’

I roll my eyes. “She was, what, girlfriend number five this year alone? We’re five months into the year and you’ve already dated five women, Anthony.”

“It’s not my fault I fall in love easily,” he mutters.

“Bullshit. You’re just a shameless flirt. I feel bad for all those poor women that have had to deal with you.”

“They’re not complaining,” he says, a twinkle in his eye.

“Probably because they don’t want to hurt your huge ego.”

He throws me a wink. “It’s not the only huge thing they like.”

“What the fuck, Anthony? Ew,” I groan. “Stop talking to me.”

Leah walks into the living room then, looking as fresh as a daisy with not a single brown hair out of place. She’s already dressed for the day in a blue dress paired with black boots. Her light brown skin is practically glowing.

“It is way too early for the both of you to be arguing,” she says, taking a seat beside Anthony on the couch.

My brother shoots me an accusing look. “I thought you said she was drunk last night.”

“She was,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Leah possesses the inhuman ability to not get hangover no matter how much she drinks.”

“Lucky me,” my best friend adds.

“I think I hate you right now,” Anthony says to her, flopping back onto the couch and placing his legs on her thighs.

If that was me, I’d immediately push him off, but Leah’s nice enough to let them be.

“Exactly why are you already dressed?” I ask her.

She gets this gleam in her eyes that tells me I’m not going to like what she’s about to say next.

“We’re going shopping,” she announces.

---