Page 64 of Sins and Secrets

“I’m well aware.” I frown.

Angie pushes her hair from her face. “Sorry we didn’t get a chance to really talk about this. Time zones. Layovers. Jet lag.” She shrugs like that explains everything.

I lean in. “I didn’t plan on breaking up with him before your wedding, but he kinda took the choice out of my hands when he put his dick inside some other woman, you know?”

Angie’s eye bulge. “He was cheating on you? I thought I read the text wrong.”

What? I was super clear about it. Is she even paying attention to anything I’ve said?

My best friend dips her head. “The family chat says otherwise. Adam told everyone you freaked out on him for no reason, waved a gun at him, and kicked him out.”

Playing the last few days over in my head, I sigh. “It wasn’t exactly like that.”

“You didn’t try to hear his side of the story?”

“His side? Really, Angie?”

She shakes her head again and steps away. “You’ve been together for three years.” She pinches her lips and stares at me. “We’ll get this all worked out, but, for now, stay far away from my mom.” She turns and leaves me standing in the doorway.

Un-fucking-believable. We’ve been best friends since we were six. Two women Angie works with are side-eyeing me and whispering. Are we in middle school?

Kyle’s younger sister, who’s also a bridesmaid, crosses the room and throws her arms around me. Ugh, is this a pity hug? Gross. “Come sit with me,” she says. Kyle’s little sister, Monica, is the lifeline I need right now.

When she pulls away from me, I notice she’s wearing a light blue sweater that matches the wedding colors. And a quick and not-so-subtle glance around the room confirms everyone else is wearing the same shade of blue… but me.

“Was there a message I missed?” I wave around the room.

Monica scrolls through her phone. “One was sent out yesterday.” She pauses and says, “Oh.”

I give her a knowing glance. “Group chat I was left off of?”

Monica nods and slides her phone back into her purse. “Sorry, I should’ve checked.”

It wasn’t her job to check. It was Angie’s.

My world is swirling. This was the exact reason I originally planned to wait until after the wedding to kick Adam to the curb—the iceberg shoulders and snide remarks. At least after it would have been easier to avoid them until everyone had moved on.

As I take a seat next to Monica, Carol pours more champagne into her glass, and the bottle drips dry. How many drinks has she had? Monica does her best to divert my attention, prattling on about work. I pick up that she’s working in a social media division of her company and she’s thinking about going freelance because her boss is a jerk. It’s one of the reasons I freelance. The more she talks, the more I’m torn between how much I like her and how much everyone else in the room seems to hate me. Angie won’t even look at me.

I’m vaguely aware something has Carol excited as she clangs her knife on her now empty champagne glass. The women hush their side conversations and turn toward the mother of the bride.

“We’re here today to celebrate love and relationships.” She slurs her speech a little. Yep, definitely claimed that entire bottle. “Relationships are not easy, and there’s a lot of give and take. Sometimes you have to understand partners make mistakes and you have to forgive them and move on.” Her glare bores into me. “Or you're being unreasonable and selfish.”

Angie leans forward. “Mom,” she hisses and glances over to me.

Selfish and unreasonable? Really? Rage, so much rage, I’m literally seeing red. Again, I’m vaguely aware there’s something that got the woman’s attention with delighted whispers.

I turn my head away from Carol to see flowers in the doorway. A shit ton of flowers. It’s not that I hate flowers, but I like them growing in the ground, not when they’ve been massacred for a bouquet. In my experience, men only buy them for women when they’re trying to distract from whatever sin they committed. If a man wants to show he loves a woman, he’d show up with tacos, not flowers.

Oh no. My stomach drops to the floor when I look at who’s holding the not-tacos.

Adam.

His eyes have deep circles like he hasn’t slept for days, but he’s put effort into his hair and clothes. He’s even wearing my favorite shirt. The one I bought him when he got a promotion.

“Waverly, baby, I love you.”

The women swoon. Monica takes a sip of wine and whispers, “Messy.”

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