Page 1 of Promise Me Ever After
Prologue - Georgie
Russ: Can we talk?
Russ: Are you at the apartment? I’ll come back.
Russ: You have to let me explain.
Russ: Georgie, it can’t end like this.
My phone sat on the coffee table, along with an almost empty packet of cigarettes, between a pile of wedding magazines and the notebook that held all the plans for the restaurant. I’d only just switched the thing back on and it bounced across the table, vibrating with messages - most of which were from Russ who I wanted to ignore - from what constituted one of the worst nights of my life.
Like fuck was I going to let him explain. Catching him balls deep in some random woman on the new sofa we’d chosen together was the only explanation I needed. We’d argued, shouted and sworn at each other until he’d finally left after I’d yelled at him I never wanted to see him again. He’d cheated on me and I wanted nothing more to do with him.
Pale morning sunlight streamed through the window catching facets of the tiny solitaire diamond on my engagement ring, which still lay under the sofa where I’d tossed it last night. Another painful reminder of what I’d come home to.
I stretched, my body cramped and aching from how I’d been curled up on the armchair for most of the night — no way in hell would I sit on the sofa after they’d donethatthere. Reaching for the pack of cigarettes, I lit up. If Russ was going to shit all over me, he’d have to live with the consequences, including the flat smelling of smoke. Blowing a cloud up into the air, my phone rang. Expecting to see Russ’s contact details pop up, when I saw my sister’s name instead, a wave of relief washed over me.
“Hey, Darcy.” I put her on speaker.
“Omigod, Georgie, I spoke to Mum and she told me what Russ had done. What a complete arsehole!”
When Mum had called me last night to tell me about Gran’s death, I’d had to confess what I’d found when I got back after work. She had already sensed something was wrong when I answered the phone. Crouched down on the little patch of grass outside the shop near our apartment, I’d sobbed my heart out as I told her the whole sordid story.
Queen of the understatement, my sister. “That’s one way to describe him.” I rubbed my eyes, swollen and puffy from spending much of the night crying all my tears alone in the dark.
“What are you going to do?” Darcy asked.
“I don’t know. He wants to talk, but I don’t see the point. If he can’t keep his dick in his boxers this early in our relationship, what’s he going to be like in the future?”
The silent comment of‘I told you so’hung in the air. When I’d announced to my family that Russ and I were getting married at the end of October after knowing each other for less than six months, an air of shock and surprise met the news. It had been a whirlwind, and I’d got totally caught up in the heady emotions and heart rush of a brand-new relationship. We’d moved in with each other after three months, buying a swanky new pad near the harbour together. So even if we weren’t bound together by marriage, we were by a hefty mortgage.
“Are you going to go ahead with the wedding?”
“I can’t even bring myself to look at that prick again, let alone get married to him.”
My heart ached at the decision, but I knew it was the right one. I couldn’t trust Russ, even if he came back and begged to be given another chance. In my book, if he cheated once, he’d do it again. I wasn’t going to be the doormat who accepted it and turned a blind eye. Deep down, there was a part of me which was pleased to have discovered it now before Ihadcommitted myself to him.
Darcy let out a sympathetic sound. “Oh, Georgie. Why don’t you come and stay with us for a while? Get away from there and take some time to clear your head.”
I didn’t answer her immediately, taking a last drag on my cigarette and putting it out on the saucer that was filled with spent butts.
Because I wasn’t the only Cavanagh sister about to be married.
Darcy’s own wedding to her university sweetheart was in the first week of December, six weeks after mine would have taken place. She and Fraser had been planning for years — although I knew Darcy had been planning her special day since about the age of five. I’m sure she still had all her scrapbooks where she’d cut out images from the old wedding magazines our mum would bring home from the doctor’s surgery where she worked as a receptionist. She knew how much Darcy loved them.
Although we’d grown closer while we were both planning weddings, trying to out-Bridezilla each other at every step, going to stay with her and having their final preparations shoved in my face felt too much to bear right now. Plus, I didn’t need to face her and Mum’s accusations oftoo much too soon.
“Yeah, maybe,” I said, vaguely. “I know I don’t want to be here.”
“You know there’s a bed whenever you want it,” said Darcy. “And you’ll be coming for Gran’s funeral anyway.”
“That’s true.” Maybe I should give it some thought. It would certainly put some much-needed breathing space between Russ and me.
“Sorry, Georgie, I have to go. I’ve got an appointment at Blossom to chat about their wedding package plans.”
Of course, she did. This wouldn’t be the first reminder of how she was still getting married, and I wasn’t. I screwed up my eyes, wishing the banging in my head would stop.
“Call me whenever you need to, sis. Remember I love you.”
