Page 62 of The Fiance Dilemma

A sigh erupted out of me, my gaze drifting to the drawer again. Had Matthew texted? Called? Was he at home, watching the video of me making my way up an aisle in a wedding dress, leaving a gasping wedding party and a shocked groom behind, on repeat? Could he tell that I’d been losing it as I ran that velvety rug that separated a sea of chairs? Was he finally realizing that I had issues? That I was messed-up?

Who did that anyway? Sprint, as fast as one can, away from someone you were about to promise to love in sickness and in health. For the rest of your life.

I did. And he’d known. Matthew had. Everyone had known. But it was different to watch it happen. It became undeniable then. Written in stone.

Ugh. Was Venus in retrograde? Was that why I felt so yucky, why all my past relationships festered in a way they never had?

I should draw a bath. Yes. At two a.m. With a new surge of energy, I headed for my en suite and started the water. As hot as possible so the steam could purge all the bad thoughts. I snatched my bath box off the rack and started concocting the perfect recipe. Lavender bath bomb. Wild berry salts. Peppermint essential oil. The tub filled, and I basked in the delicious scents, the change in the atmosphere, the mirror steaming up.

Oh. The rosé.

I snatched the bottle from the nightstand. And a pink mug that would have to serve as a glass from the top of my dresser. I turned around.

My feet stopped me, rooted to the floor.

My phone was inside the dresser.

I told myself to leave. Get in the bath. But the temptation was too strong, and my willpower had always been so weak, so easilyoverthrown by curiosity. That was why I’d hidden my phone. I sighed. Squared my shoulders. Whirled back around. In a blink, the phone was in my hands.

My gaze fell on the one name in the sea of notifications. I tapped on it. I couldn’t help myself.

MATTHEW:You up?

I chewed my lip in thought. He’d texted only a few minutes ago. Had he been trying to give me space? Was that why he’d only texted now? Was that why he wasn’t asking if I was okay, like everybody else?

“God, Josie,” I muttered, stopping that. I was giving myself a headache.

I could ignore the text. The reasonable thing to do right now was that. Then the bath, then sleep. Phone in hand, I padded back to the bath, set the bottle and phone on the side table I kept by the tub, and undressed. I slipped in, making up my mind: I wasn’t going to reply. I’d soak in my scalding hot water and let all these essential oils melt everything away. Including Matthew’s text.

The screen of my phone lit up. I peeked.

MATTHEW:Knock knock.

I stuck my hand out of the tub and snatched my phone.

JOSIE:Go to sleep.

MATTHEW:You go first.

This was ridiculous. He was ridiculous.

JOSIE:I’m busy.

MATTHEW:Doing what?

JOSIE:Taking a bath.

MATTHEW:I’m calling your bluff.

With a scoff, I snapped a picture, making sure to get my feet peeking out of the water so he’d know it wasn’t a fake, and sent it.

The three dots danced on the screen for so long that I wondered if I was getting a whole paragraph in response. Or maybe nothing at all.

MATTHEW:I’m coming over.

I straightened, water splashing with my sudden move.

JOSIE:What? No. Why?

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