Page 8 of Kiss the Bride
I only record seconds of footage before Lina looks over her lover’s shoulder and screams.
Too late.
With a calmness I’ll never be able to justify, I only need three clicks. Three simple clicks to add an update to my online wedding guest book.
I didn’t record any of the juicy stuff. Nothing that can be legally considered as revenge porn. Just their heads together with my bed as the backdrop. One short video will save me thousands of words in explanation.
There will be no wedding.
Not today.
Not in this lifetime.
And not even if hell freezes over.
“Fuck! What the fuck! Get the fuck off me!”
As I cautiously descend the stairs, not wanting to ruin this day with a broken ankle, I hear Mitch push his fuck-buddy aside. Does it make me a bitch when I hope the thump is her naked cheating ass landing on the floor?
Luckily, our packed suitcases are waiting for us at the front door to head off to the airport later tonight. Two nights in Brisbane before heading to Lizard Island for the romantic honeymoon to end all romantic honeymoons.
Scratch that, now it can be Destination Healing Heart.
“Olivia, baby, I’m sorry!” Mitchel’s words might mean something if he didn’t look so ridiculous standing at the landing,pulling on his suit jacket over boxer shorts. “I don’t know what happened.”Really? Did he just slip and fall into my bridesmaid, or was he practicing his wedding night moves?
Lina appears over his shoulder, holding the blush pink bridesmaid dress that matches the color of her cheeks, her three-hundred-dollar hairstyle ruined. But when she drops the dress, a tell-tale bruise over her left breast becomes another test for my waterproof makeup.
Really?
I was looking everywhere for our wedding vows while he was marking another woman with love bites!
No.
No.
No.
“Livia, come on.” Hunter’s cool and calm voice belies his eyes fixed on Mitchel, silently forbidding my ex-fiancé to follow us down the stairs.
“Which bag is yours?” He holds the two purple suitcases until I nod. I want to burn Mitchel’s black case, but need to leave before I break under the carousel of emotions. Anger. Hurt. Embarrassment. Anger.Relief.
“Baby, please. We can work it out.”No. We can’t.“Olivia, she means nothing.” Mitchel’s cry ends with the sound of a well-deserved slap. I almost want to text Lina a request to hit him again for me, but don’t.
She means nothing to him.
Yet, he threw away everything for her.
Not everything. Just our marriage. Our vows. Us.
Me.
My loving fiancé who promised me a lifetime together, ended up choosing someone who means nothing to him, over me.
Someone who means nothing meant more to him than me.
I mean less than nothing.
Three years together and I am—nothing.
