Page 173 of Exes and Oh Hell No

On our wedding day.

I storm through the house, scanning every fucking room, my blood pumping.

My muscles are wound too tight.

People are watching me, whispering.

I don’t give a fuck.

I don’t stop.

I know she’s close.

I canfeelher.

That prickle at the back of my neck.

That instinct that tells me exactly where she is, even when shethinksshe’s out of reach.

And then I hear it.

A giggle.

Soft.

Stifled.

Full of guilt.

My jaw clenches.

I turn my head slowly, my pulse a steady, dangerous rhythm in my ears.

The bridal suite closet.

Of course.

I step forward, pressing my palm flat against the door.

Reaching down, I grip the doorknob.

And then I throw it open.

She gasps.

I grip the doorframe so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t splinter in my hands.

Her eyes go wide, her breath catching.

I don’t move.

Neither does she.

We just stare.

The air between us cackles.

Hot, electric, suffocating.

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