Page 2 of The Wedding Wrecker

"How long?" My voice sounded strange, distant.

He swallowed hard, running a hand through his hair—a nervous habit we both shared. “I’m sorry, James, I?—”

“How long?” I asked again. Numbness was starting to be tinged with rage.

"Eight months, maybe?"

Eight months.They'd been sleeping together while she helped me pick out wedding bands. While she wrote her vows. While she promised forever.

"Is she..." I had to force the words out. "Is she with anyone else?"

His silence was answer enough.

I laughed then, a sound that held no humor. "Who else?"

"Come on, man... Do you really want to know?"

"Who else, Chase?"

He told me three names. All friends. All people who'd been at my wedding, smiling and congratulating me while knowing exactly what kind of woman I'd just pledged my life to.

"You deserve this," I said simply before punching him across the jaw hard enough to knock him on his ass. "If I see your face again tonight, I'll punch it again. In fact, consider that a running promise. Show me your face, and you're going to get knocked on your ass. Forever."

People gasped and backed away, giving us space. The general air of light conversation hushed in a moment.

"James, please," Chase said, touching his reddening jaw as he lay sprawled on the floor. "She said you wouldn't even care. She said you probably cheated on her, so it was?—"

I stopped in my tracks, turning to face him. "I never fucking cheated. I never would."

I walked toward Katie, moving through the crowd like a ghost. Everything looked different now. Faces that had seemed friendly hours ago now held secrets. Smiles that had seemed genuine now looked painted on.

In seconds, I moved through the people who had seen me punch Chase and entered back into the blissfully unaware—the ones who didn’t know this thing was already doomed.

Katie was by the cake, champagne flute in hand, laughing at something her maid of honor had said. She looked up as I approached, her smile faltering slightly.

"There you are! I was just about to?—"

"We need to talk."

She must have seen something in my face because she set down her glass and followed me without argument. I led her to a quiet corner, away from prying eyes.

"How many?" I asked simply.

"What?"

"How many men have you slept with while we were together?"

The color drained from her face. "James, I don't know what you?—"

"Don't." My voice cracked. "Don't lie to me. Not now. I already know, but I want to hear it from you. You owe me at least that much. How. Many."

She stared at me for a long moment, then lifted her chin. "Four."

"Including my brother?"

She flinched. "Who told you?"

"Does it matter?"

---