Page 23 of My Wife
@JimJimmyJames: Maybe The Beast needs a hug.
@DollyPuckton: I’ll be the first in line. Yeehaw!
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8
JESS
I call my friend Cara—wemet my senior year in high school when I moved here and have stayed in touch.
Sort of.
I didn’t exactly mention the whole wedding thing when Sorsha said I couldn’t invite anyone from my side “of the family,” not that I have one.
Cara is still at work and tells me to meet her at the Ice Palace.
It’s not until I’m in the parking lot do I realize I might encounter the sourpuss from the bakery. Plastering on a smile, I tell myself, if I do, it’ll give me a chance to get that signed photo for Grandma Dolly. See? I’m always turning lemons into lemonade and wedding gowns into everyday wear.
As I step through the automatic glass doors, I smooth my skirt and get more than a few curious looks. I parade into the relatively quiet arena in the calm before the storm. My grandmother said they’re playing Carolina tonight.
Hopefully, Mr. Meanie is busy sharpening his skates. I have no interest in being around someone so rude, so why does a fluffy marshmallow of excitement drop out from under me and give way to a void of disappointment?
There’s no arguing against the fact that he was attractive in a big, imposing, swoop-in-and-save-the-day kind of way. But I am not looking for romance or a relationship. I’m barely out of one. Besides, he’s probably married.
However, when I take an honest look at things between Rexlan and me, we were running on my optimism and Sorsha’s insistence that we get hitched. She just didn’t want him to marry Cassleigh.
He was probably with me because he was too scared to defy his mom and I’m too nice to say no to.
Before I can talk myself out of a frown, someone shrieks from down the hall. I look around, alarmed. Cara rushes toward me, calling my name then abruptly going quiet as she looks me over from head to toe, wearing an expression that goes from shock to curiosity. “What are you wearing? I need a story time and I need it now.”
Ushering me into an austere office, I tell Cara almost everything, including some of the details I skipped when relaying events to Grandma Dolly. It’s not that I want to keep anything from her, but she’ll worry, which will prompt her to bake more cookies, and then I’ll never fit into a wedding dress again.
What can I say? They’re hard to resist.
Cara exclaims, “So he left you at the altar? Want to hatch a revenge plot?”
“Yes, but no. You know me. I’m just hoping for a plot twist. Like I’ll wake up and none of this ever happened.”
“Can we talk about the red flags?”
“Where to start? There were so many. I was in a fog.”
“Or drugged. Did they drug you? Tell me he drugged you so I can be mad at them on your behalf and not at you since you didn’t mention YOU WERE GETTING MARRIED.”
“You’re talking in all caps.”
“I KNOW.”
“I’m a terrible friend. But his mother was overbearing and when she said the guest list was full, I didn’t want to impose.”
“I think you should start imposing inyourown life, especially when it comes toyourfuture,yourown marriage.”
“During the rehearsal dinner, when we were practicing our vows, he said his assistant’s name. Cass.”
Cara’s eyes widen.
“Also, last month, his buddy did warn me.”
