Page 41 of How to Ruin Your Ex's Wedding
“Show me that one again.” Gregor laughs. “Where she’s got her eyes half-shut and her mouth wide open, shoveling in cake.”
I pull up the proof on my phone and we cackle like old ladies over how bad she looks in that one as well as a few others.
“So, what do you got going on tonight?” I ask him once our mirth dies down.
“I have a date.” He puffs his chest out and smiles big.
“Really?”
“Yep. New rep for one of my beverage suppliers. And she asked me out.”
“Impressive.”
“Hey, you want to go with us? I can see if she’s got a friend.” He pulls out his phone and starts typing.
“Last time you did that, I ended up with a stage five clinger who wouldn’t leave the next morning.”
“You must just bethatirresistible, my friend.” He smirks.
“Doubtful.”
“I told you not to sleep with her.”
“I’m not the romantic that you are, G. I don’t want to wait until I have feelings for someone to sleep with them. I like my one and done.”
He shrugs. “Suit yourself.”
I roll my eyes.
“Look here, she’s got a friend. And she wants a picture of you for the friend.” Gregor points his phone at me as though to take a photo.
“Don’t take one with your phone!” I hold my hand out in front of the lens, blocking his shot. “Just send her something of the two of us. What about the one from the Seabirds mixer last month?” I purposely suggest a photo where I already know I look good.
Because, yes, I can be that vain. What of it?
Gregor finds the photo and sends it, then waits for a response. I don’t know why I’m agreeing to this. Although, technically I haven’t agreed yet. But I also haven’t disagreed, so there’s that.
“Is she sending a photo of her friend?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t ask.”
“Well, tit for tat, brother. Get that pic.” Ordinarily, I would never even entertain the idea of a last-minute, blind double-date. But for some reason, I don’t want to go home tonight. At least not yet. I don’t know if it’s the weirdness I’m feeling after dealing with Tabatha today—because I’ve definitely got shit swirling in my head, I just don’t want to decipher it all yet—or if I’m just bored.
I’m not ignorant, I know that I will always love Tabatha. She’s my first love, first wife, first a lot of things, really. And there are bound to be emotional issues that creep up over her remarrying when I’m still single. Especially when I’ve chosen to entangle myself so directly in her wedding planning process; and now with her knowing that it’s me. Maybe it’s time for me to get serious about dating. Perhaps I’ll find someone else I want to marry. No reason why I can’t begin that process tonight.
Gregor shows me a picture with two women. One hot, one not.
“Is mine the one on the left?” I ask hopefully.
“Nope. That’s Becky. She’s my date. You get the other one.”
“Oh.”
“Becky said that she’s really nice.”
“Of course she did.”
“Dude, don’t be a dick.”
