Page 3 of Your Coffin or Mine
Opening my eyes, I look down at my hands, currently squeezing one very confused airline attendant, and I can’t stop shaking.
He freezes before giving me an awkward pat on the shoulder and I crack, breaking down with more emotion than I have in months. I grab him into a hug, latching onto him for dear life. “I’m alive.”
“Madam.” The soft but stern voice snaps me out of the breakdown, and my sobs turn to hiccups. I pull away, eyes fixed on his white shirt in alarm. Mascara and tears cover it.
“Oh my god! I am so sorry.” Without thinking, I spring into action, rubbing my hands over his chest to try and get it off. “I am so, so sorry.”
My gaze darts up from the mess I’ve made of his shirt to find his eyes wide in fear, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m touching him or he’s worried I’ll sue for the death-trap plane.
He recovers quickly, his mouth twitching into a small smile. “Iz alright, yes? We have a taxi waiting on you to take you wherever you wish for ze inconvenience,” he says, gesturing to the side door leading to the airport tarmac.
I scramble to get off, only to find out minutes later that they’ve lost my luggage! What a nightmare this is turning out to be. All I have is my handbag and carry-on, which contains my pajamas, slippers, makeup, and toothbrush, in case there was a delay. Stupid plane.
An hour later, I’m sinking into the back seat of a taxi and snowflakes are falling outside the window. The Romanian countryside is calm and peaceful—the exact opposite of what I’m feeling. I suck in a hard breath, trying to calm down.
What am I going to do?
For years I’ve put up with Chad’s shit—the frat parties, the pills, bailing him out of jail more times than I could count—all on the promise he was going to get his act together. But he didn’t.
The tears start up again and I wince, rubbing my eyes. Crying is stupid. Men are stupid.
I drop my head back on the headrest and stare into space. How could I have not seen this coming?
My phone vibrates and I take a deep breath in preparation for the infinite questions and total disregard for boundaries I’m about to endure. But there is no hashtag or grand gesture that can help him come back from this.
Suddenly, I wish my phone providerdidn’thave international service.
I swipe to answer the call, unable to hide the annoyance in my voice. “Mom. I really can’t deal with much more right now.”
“Aubrey, honey, men sometimes do these things, and it’s best to just look the other way. They eventually come to their senses. Now, your father says he has had a stern talk with Chad and wants you to come home?—”
The. Freaking. Audacity.
“Mommm,” I groan.
What would be the point in even telling her? Like, “Hey, Mom. Was almost in a plane crash today.” Her reply wouldprobably be to ask if I want white or cream cards for our wedding invitations. That’s how concerned my parents seem to be with my life at the moment.
“He says he is sorry.”
“Mom, he was screwing Brad up the ass while Ashley was riding his face.”
She sighs heavily, and not because of what Chad did. Nope, not Emma Townsend. My mother would rather I never mention what he’s done because then it makes it real, and we can’t have that. It would ruin the perfect image she tries to portray at all times.
“There’s no need to be crass.” She sighs again. “Just come home and we can sort all this out. We just want?—”
“I highly doubt asterntalking to will change anything. I’m done, and I am sorry you won’t be getting what you always wanted.”
“Aubrey Lynn Townsend, what has gotten into you? Now, that is not true. We just want what’s best for you.”
“What’s best for me?” I scoff. “You just want me to marry him so you and Daddy can have what you always wanted: a merger.”
My father and his business partner, Ethan Hawkins, have been cooking up a plan for their company for as long as I can remember. The stipulation being that I marry Chad and pop out tiny little heirs to their multimillion-dollar empire.
It’s basically an arranged marriage with all the finesse of a modern-day fairytale. As a result, Chad used me to gain notoriety and fame while my father stands to gain equal shares of the company. Everyone lives happily ever after. Except for me.
Cheating, unfortunately for them all, was the line for me, and Chad hurdled over that bitch like an Olympic gold medalist.
I look out the window at the passing snowy forest, only to find my glare in the reflection. “Mom, I’m not marrying him.”
