Page 2 of Rematch
Nope.
Instead, he’d sent his best man a text.
Tell her I’m sorry. I can’t do it.
He didn’t offer an explanation.
She’d tried to call him but was sent immediately to voicemail. Her texts went unread, as did the best man’s and Rick’s parents’. Minutes ticked by, and after two long hours passed, she had to accept he truly wasn’t coming.
That was when she’d let the tears fall. She’d stripped off the dress and returned to the apartment she and Rick shared, only to discover he’d packed all his shit and moved out.
That was where she’d found the note.
He’d met someone at work, and while he hadn’t physically cheated on her, he’d begun an emotional affair with this other woman. Then he went on to say he would always love her, but—and this was the part that had truly shattered her—for the first time in his life, he understood what it meant to truly be in love with someone else.
He’d managed to successfully ghost her for months. Which was no small feat, considering how tight their families were. He’d blocked her on his phone and on social media, and, while their mothers both remained hopeful that he would “come around,” he knew her schedule well enough to avoid her. He’d been too busy to attend their families’ Fourth of July and Labor Day picnics, and he’d been out of town on business over Thanksgiving.
Suuuuure, he had.
Chelsea had wanted to confront him, go to his office and force him to face her, but Allyson and Ethan had been managing her pride at the time. They barred the door whenever she had a serious moment of weakness, assuring her that her “confrontation” would devolve from anger to tears to begging on her part, and Rick wasn’t worth it.
She hated that they were right, but they were. For too many months after that almost wedding, she’d hoped he would come back to her.
She’d discovered from her mom—via his mom—that the new woman was another lawyer in the firm where Rick worked. She’d been transferred from their New York office to Baltimore at the beginning of the year. So while Chelsea had been planning what she’d thought was their dream wedding, he’d been falling in love with someone else.
Then, two months ago, she ran into them on the street. Like, literally. No doubt if Rick had seen her, he would have crossed the street to avoid her. Instead, he’d nearly plowed right into her, his eyes plastered on the tall, willowy, not-a-hair-out-of-place, power-suited woman he was holding hands with.
Meanwhile, Chelsea had been wearing yoga pants and an “Every Thelma needs a Louise” T-shirt, with her hair pulled up haphazardly in a messy top bun, looking just as short and fluffy—she really needed to lay off the sweets—as ever.
When he saw Chelsea, Rick offered the most awkward introduction in the history of introductions. Especially when he looked at Vanessa—of course, her fucking name was Vaaaanesssa—and said, “This is Chelsea.”
Vanessa’s eyes widened in surprise before quickly morphing into something much worse.
Pity.
Rick attempted approximately twenty-two seconds of strained conversation that consisted of, “Well, it was great to see you again. Hope you’re doing okay. Say hello to your parents for me.”
They’d walked away, and that was when Chelsea realized she hadn’t said one damn word, her throat completely closed during the interaction.
It was another five minutes before all those things she wished she’d said started firing off like rockets in her brain.
After that, she’d stopped at the convenience store on the corner, bought two bottles of wine, then spent the rest of the night getting shit-faced drunk with Ethan and Allyson, the three of them reimagining the run-in a hundred different ways, most ending with Chelsea either karate-slamming two-timing Rick to the sidewalk or throat-punching runway-worthy Vanessa before completely wrecking that perfect blonde updo of hers.
Since then, she’d been saying “good riddance” to the asshole, trying to believe she was well and truly over him.
And for the most part, she was.
Probably.
Sort of.
Chelsea had been asked out a few times, but none of those dates had led to a second. Her ability to trust was in the gutter, and her heart simply wasn’t into giving romance another try.
She took a sip of wine and pushed the negative thoughts away.
They served nothing.
Ethan and Allyson had been her godsends since June, swooping in and basically taking over her life. They’d convinced Chelsea to move out of the apartment she’d shared with Rick and in with Ethan, who had an extra room. They had consumed gallon after gallon of ice cream with her, drunk enough wine to float a boat, and comforted her as she cried and raged.
