Page 73 of How to Ruin Your Ex's Wedding
That’s how I want Hunter to look at me on our wedding day.
Speaking of,therehe is. Right next to Pax.
“Tabatha? What are you doing here?” Hunter calls out, walking toward us.
I laugh uncomfortably. “We were heading to the club across the street and I thought I’d pop in and surprise you. Surprise!”
“It’s lovely to see you, of course,” he says as he gets closer. Then he grabs my upper arm and pulls me into the corner. I’m expecting him to kiss me, just with a little privacy. Which is so like him—
“What are you wearing? And what did you do to your hair? Is it going to stay like that? You look so . . . common. Where did you get that outfit?”
Hold up.
“Did you just say I looked common? What’s wrong with my outfit? And thisismy hair. I just always straighten it for you.”
“I much prefer it straight. Straight and up.”
“If it’s up, how would you know if it’s straight? Look, forget it. This was a bad idea. We’re just going to head across the street.”
“You’re going to a club?”
“Yes.”
“Have you already been drinking?”
“Of course. We’ve been having champagne in the limo. Why, all of the sudden, is it a problem if I’m drinking?”
“It’s not. I just . . . this outfit, and showing up, it’s just unexpected, that’s all. I’m sorry. Of course you’re dressed for having fun with your girlfriends. You should go a little crazy. Just not too crazy. We don’t need any undesirable pictures showing up in the media.” He laughs at his comment, but I’m pretty sure he’s dead serious. He’s always been reserved, but not controlling. Or am I just now noticing?
I look around him for the girls and see that Pax and Gregor are talking to them. Crystal has always loved them both so it’s not surprising she would say hello. If I’m not mistaken, Gregor seems to be taken with Maisey. I have to warn her. She does not need an Igor BigJerksy—
“Tabatha, are you even listening to me?” Hunter interrupts my thoughts.
“Of course I am. That’s fine,” I lie.
He looks at me, eyes narrowed. He knows I’m lying. I know he knows I’m lying.
Exit, stage left.
“Okay, girls, ready to go?” I call out to them. “I’ll see you later,” I say to Hunter. I don’t hug him. I don’t kiss him goodbye. I strut to the door, yell out, “Woot! Woot! Party time!” and pump my fist in the air as I disappear through the doorway without once looking at the rest of the room, or to make sure the girls are with me.
Luckily, they were.
“What was that all about?” Crystal asks once we reach the sidewalk again.
“He can be so weird sometimes.”
“Oh, honey, I’m sure it’s just pre-wedding weirdness. It happens.”
“I don’t think that’s what it is,” I tell her.
“Well, I say this calls for some tequila shots and girl talk in a crowded place where we can lose ourselves in a corner and ogle men,” Angela says.
We tell the limo driver where we’ll be and head across the street to the club. Angela called ahead and got us a private table in the VIP area. We weave through the crowd, centipede style, with me in the front. The music is loud and thumping, reminding me of crazier times.
Hunter prefers classical music, which is what we listen to a lot at home. I’m a closet pop-music addict. “If I Can’t Have You” by Shawn Mendes comes on, and I raise my hands above my head and swing my hips as I walk. I’m in the mood to let go with my girls. I haven’t had a night like this since I started seeing Hunter.
Angela orders us shots as we head into the VIP section. The club has a few raised areas around the perimeter as interconnected designated VIP areas with private restrooms, servers, and bar. We have one all to ourselves.
