Page 9 of Kiss the Bride

Numbness Is Better Than Tears

Olivia

Barely conscious of Hunterthrowing my cases in the trunk, I shove the cumbersome skirt from my wedding dress into the front seat. The urge to flee is greater than the need to protect a dress I’ll never wear again.

For sale: one unused wedding dress. Hope your day is better than mine.

I don’t care.Then, why the tears?

I remain stoic while Hunter secures my seatbelt and slams the car door shut. He continues glaring at Mitch who is in the doorway, resisting Lina’s attempts to pull him inside. Feelingdisconnected from reality, I stare at the man I thought I knew and loved. Why doesn’t he just go inside with her? There’s nothing to see here. Just a woman getting into a car and leaving her future behind.

Breathe in, breathe out, repeat.

What now? I don’t care about my dress, or my makeup, or the fact that all the people I love are now watching visuals of my fiancé having sex.

Breathe in, two, three. Breathe out, two, three. Repeat, two three. He doesn’t deserve to see you break your heart, two three.

Why did I post the video? Why didn’t I just take a single photo and send it to my father—or my other bridesmaids?

Did they already know? Was I the last person to find out?Am I like my mother?

“Did you know?” I blurt out. I believed Hunter when we pulled up into my driveway, but I’m done with lies. I need to know who I can trust, and I want to trust the man helping me escape a marriage of lies.

“Before I left to get you, Pete told Caleb and me that Lina broke up with him a week ago.”

“A week ago?” Mitch had been late to our rehearsal dinner, a week ago. With all the chaos of wedding planning, I can’t remember if Lina had been on time.

“Pete thought there was another guy involved but didn’t know who.”

“Did you know Mitch was unhappy? Because that’s the only reason a guy would cheat, right?”

“Babe, he adored you.” Hunter punches the steering wheel and his poor car has never been so mistreated. This from a guy who paid a fortune to store his car while he was overseas, complete with monthly dusting. “He promised me, he promised your father.”

“He promised me, too.” I try to laugh, but it sounds hollow—as if I don’t have enough oxygen to do it properly.

“Sweetheart, Livia, I can’t explain what we saw back there,” Hunter says, sparing me a worried glance. “I don’t know what he was thinking, but I didn’t know. I promise you, I didn’t know, and neither did the guys. We all thought he loved you.”

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

For calling me baby and sweetheart? No, I’m stillLiviaand notLiv, even though he slipped up at the house when he called me both. “For not making a scene.”

Hunter’s smirk is bitter and caring, and I try not to think, sexy. “I can go back and mess him up a little, if you want.” Yes, he’d gone a few rounds with footballers back in the day. Guy stuff, mucking around until furniture got broken and credit cards needed producing to stop the police being called. But, he’s never gone out of his way looking for a fight.

“No, just—thank you for getting me out of there.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“I need scissors or a knife.”

“Why?” He slows down to give me his full focus, his eyes searching mine for any reason to be concerned.

“I need to do some fashion alterations. The gown doesn’t go with the cardigan!” I need to do something constructive and wrecking my twenty-eight-thousand-dollar designer wedding gown is a good start.

“Fine,” he says, shaking his head. At the first opportunity, he stops at a gas station.

Left alone in the car, I sift through memories of Mitchel’s unexplained absences and showering at the gym instead of home. Why didn’t I question him? All the signs were there, only, I’d never opened my eyes.The only difference between my mother and I is that I’m not marrying a cheating bastard.

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