Page 113 of The One I Want
Every partof me is tired.
My feet. My legs. My head. My heart.
I’m just…tired.
I plaster on another smile as someone from Whitley’s distant family that I met once a million years ago says goodbye to me as we wrap up the post-wedding brunch. I should be used to this by now, I’ve been wearing this fake smile for the past two and a half days since we arrived at rehearsal on Friday night. Pretty soon this face is going to become permanent.
“Save me,” Whitley whispers as she passes by me, only to be greeted by another extended family member.
I crack my neck, ready to put my maid of honor hat back on.
“Excuse me, Whitley?” I say. “So sorry to interrupt, but the hotel manager needs to speak with you.”
She apologizes to Great Aunt Somebody and follows me out of the hotel’s dining room and down the hall, where we sneak into one of the bathrooms.
“Thank you,” she says as she falls into one of the chairs. “I just didn’t have talking to one more person in me.”
I take a seat in the chair next to her. “I get it. I’d be peopled out if I were you.”
She looks over to me, a sad look in her eye. “How are you?”
“Don’t,” I say. “I’m fine. This is still your wedding weekend and all talk of my love life is off the table.”
“Nope,” Whitley says. “I’m married. And if we stay in here long enough, all of the relatives will leave. Which means my wedding weekend is all but over.”
“What if I don’t want to talk?”
“Too bad. What the bride wants, the bride gets.”
“Didn’t youjustsay that your wedding was done?”
“Technicality,” she says, giving me a stern look. “Now talk.”
I let out a sigh. “He didn’t speak to me at all last night.”
She reaches over and takes my hand. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not like I expected him to,” I say. “He hasn’t tried to reach out to me all week. I don’t know why I thought last night might be different.”
“I hate that you had to put on a happy face all day while you were hurting so much.”
I put my free hand on top of our clasped ones. “The only thing that kept me going was you. Thank you for letting me be part of your day and reminding me that love does exist.”
“I just hope you didn’t have a horrible time. I did see you dancing with Dexter though. How was that?”
I roll my eyes. “He is…quite the character.”
“You can say that again,” Whitley says with a laugh. “Did you have fun dancing with him?”
I shake my head. “I tried. He asked me to dance so I said why not. He was telling awful jokes and I pretended to laugh. But it beat sitting at a table alone.”
“If it makes you feel better, I walked by Wes’s table a few times last night. He looked miserable.”
I want to say good. That he deserves it. But thinking of Wes being miserable only makes me more miserable.
Because I love him. Even after all the things he said, and the idiot he was being, I still love him.
“So what now?” Whitley asks. “You know I love you, and whatever you need from me I’ll—”
