Page 72 of Broken Dreams
I kick my feet, which are now hanging over the edge, the crinoline in my dress rumpling.
“Maybe you should go to bed,” he suggests.
I shake my head, not even entertaining that. “It’s early, Grady. Besides, I’m comfy with all this fabric.”
“It’s past ten and you’re clearly drunk.”
Huh. Time is passing. Well, that means this day is almost over. Good. I hate today. I hate anniversaries and reminders that my love life is a big fat zero, and I have the dress to prove it.
“I’ll sleep here,” I hiccup and giggle.
“In the tub?”
“Duh!”
“Addy, where’s your key?”
“The key to my heart? It’s broken,” I reply. “I’m throwing it out.”
“The key to your door, sweetheart. Where is it? Do you have a hide-a-key?”
I raise my brows. “I do! I have two, but I won’t tell you that it’s in the second rock in the garden. Nope. Then you could break in.”
“Good, you should never tell anyone that,” he says, and I beam at his praise.
I hear what sounds like a door opening and closing and I drain the remaining wine from the bottle, wondering if I have more. I brought many bottles with me when I came in, opened them all and put them...oh! Over here. I reach for the next open bottle, noting I only have one left.
That sucks. I can’t feel my legs, so I doubt trying to get more is a good idea.
“Addy, are you dressed in the bathroom?” Grady asks, his voice causing me to gasp.
“When did you call me? Grady? You’re on my phone but echoing in my head. Trippy.”
“Oh Lord. Are you naked?”
“Nope, I’m in my dress, shoes, and veil.” I look at my wedding shoes, remembering how much they hurt my feet, they don’t hurt now. I should’ve just drank wine and they would’ve been great.
“Veil?”
I nod and smile. “Yup. I have it all on. I look like a princess. I wanted a tiara but my mother said I would look like a snob. Who says that?”
“I’m coming in.”
“Coming in where?”
My bathroom door slowly opens, and I scream, dropping the phone, but not the wine. I hold tight to that.
“You’re all right, it’s just me. I’m here,” Grady says softly as he opens the door.
And he is here. My boyfriend. Kind of. The man who kissed me like every girl wants to be kissed—and I don’t even get to keep him.
He looks at me, sitting in the tub with a bottle of wine, wearing my wedding attire, and his eyes go soft. As though I’m an injured animal, he approaches slowly. “Why are you in the tub in your wedding dress?”
“Because it’s my anniversary and the box hit me in the head.”
Grady squats next to the tub and rests a hand on the edge as he reaches for my wine bottle, pulling it from my grasp. “The box hit you?”
“Yup. Like a sign. From above. Literally. I opened my closet andbam!” I slap my hands together. “Wedding dress box to the face. A sign from the Lord.”
