Page 79 of The Pucker and the Princess
Sure. I guess we can go with that.
“Peter works for my father,” I offer smoothly. “Congratulations again, to both of you.” And with one last smile at Peter’s parents, I slip away, heading straight for the bar. I finished my wine just before I got cornered by Martha. And after that encounter, I need something.
Surprisingly, though, I only want to laugh. I’m not even hurt by Martha’s characterization of my four year relationship with her son as simply being, “an old family friend.” Anna clearly has no idea about me.
Which is … super. Fantastic. It just drives home that I never really mattered much to Peter after all.
New drink in hand, I step back into my spot off to the side, trying to gauge how much longer I’ll have to stay before I can make a discreet exit. Glancing around, I spot Gabby and Jonathan, though their backs are to me.
I should’ve used their signals when Martha cornered me. I was so shocked, though, that I totally forgot that was even an option until it was too late.
Oh, well. I got the obligatory well-wishes over with. Another thirty minutes or so, and I’ll get a ride out of here, with or without my sister and her husband. While it’s not as painful and awful as I’d feared, I still would rather be just about anywhere else.
“Marissa.” Peter’s voice comes from my left, and I jolt.
“God, Peter. You scared me.”
He gives me that supercilious half smile again. “I can’t believe you came.” From his tone of voice, I can’t tell if he’s happy or mad. Or both. Probably both.
Shrugging, I shake my head and look back out over the crowd. “I wasn’t given much choice. My mom strong-armed all of us into coming. So here we all are.”
“Aww, poor Marissa,” he says in the most grating, patronizing, faux-sympathetic voice. It makes me want to punch him in the face. “You coulda had all this”—he gestures at the space—“but you always thought you were too good for me.” My eyes practically bulge out of my head at that comment, but he’s not done. “I gave you a ring,” he hisses, “butnoooo. You wanted something fancier. Something better.”
I’m nearly choking on my tongue. “It had nothing to do with the ring.”
He scoffs. “Sure it did. You don’t have to keep lying, Marissa. We both know you were just trying to manipulate me into doing what you wanted, like always.”
What the fuck?
“But you overplayed your hand. I’m sure you thought your dad would help you. But you miscalculated, and now you’re sad andlonely, coming to your ex-boyfriend’s engagement party. What were you hoping for? That you could mess this up for me?”
Letting out a cynical chuckle, I shake my head, not even sure where to start.
“There you are,” comes a familiar but unexpected voice from behind me. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Dozer steps up next to me, his hand going to the small of my back, then sliding around to my side so he can pull me close, kissing my forehead when I blink at him, totally shocked.
“You—you’re—wh?—”
Grinning, he kisses me again, this time on the nose. “Sorry I’m late.” Then he turns to Peter and extends a hand. “Hi. Benjamin Boggs. My friends call me Dozer.”
Peter’s eyeing him up and down before slowly taking his hand and shaking it. “I’m Peter. Nice to meet you, Dozer. And how are you …?” He wiggles a finger back and forth between us.
Dozer bares his teeth. “I said myfriendscall me Dozer. You can call me Mr. Boggs. I’m here as Marissa’s plus one. Did you not get the RSVP?”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Dozer
Marissa’s staringat me like I just popped out of the ground like a gopher, and that isn’t really helping me sell the idea that I should’ve been expected. She obviously didn’t expect me. Did I not make it clear that I was coming? I remember saying, “I’ll be there. See you soon,” right after she told me where this little shindig is being held. What else could that mean?
Her douchebag of an ex looks uncomfortable when I bare my teeth, and he’s surreptitiously trying to shake out his hand after I squeezed it a little harder than strictly necessary. I want him to be clear that I have Marissa’s back, and whatever bullshit he was spewing at her before I walked up? He’s done.
I only caught the tail end of what he was saying—something about her hoping to mess things up for him—but I could tell from their body language and the expression on her face that he definitely deserves to get his teeth knocked in. I know we’re not in an arena, so I can’t just drop my gloves and challenge him inthe straightforward way I’m used to. But by the time we’re done, he’ll know not to fuck with Marissa.
She finally clears her throat, blinking a few times, and pulls herself together. “I’m glad you finally got here.”
“Sorry again,” I tell her, pointedly ignoring Peter Pecker over here. “Traffic was murder getting out of the airport, so it took longer than I expected.”
The smile she gives me is one hundred percent genuine. “I’m glad you were able to make it.”
