Page 93 of Running from Drac
“Don’t tell me to calm down,” I growl, glaring at her. “You’re just as bad. You let last night happen and didn’t even try to stop it.”
Poppy looks guilty, but doesn’t say anything more.
“Just let it go, Amber,” Pippa growls. “Or fucking embrace it. At this point I just don’t give a fuck anymore.”
I step closer to Pippa again. “I stopped giving a fuck about you a long time ago.”
She shrugs. “The feeling’s mutual, babe. You think I actually want to be a part of your wedding? I was only going out of pity because you literally have no one that gives a fuck about you enough to go. That’s the only reason Poppy and Mallory are going too. They pity you as much as I do. So, how’s it feel to have a one-sided wedding, Amber? One where every single personthat shows up doesn’t give a fuck about you and are only there for him?”
That cuts. It hits harder than anything else she’s said.
I step back, the room spinning around me like I’ve just been punched in the chest.
“You’re out of the wedding,” I say, voice shaking. “I want you out of my fucking life for good.”
She smirks. “Thank fuck for that. If I had to sit through one more Amber pity party, I’d probably off myself. I’m going to stay at Daniel’s tonight.” She gives me one last fleeting glance over her shoulder before opening the door. “Good luck with your marriage,” she says. “You’re gonna need it, bitch.”
The door slams shut like bitter punctuation.
I don’t move.
I can barely breathe.
Poppy lowers her arms slowly. “Amber…”
I shake my head. “No. Don’t.”
“I didn’t want to get in the middle—”
“What middle? She’s your sister, Poppy. How can I compete with that?”
She doesn’t answer.
She doesn’t have to.
Pippa said enough for the both of them.
“Amber, please rethink this. I don’t want you to leave, not like this.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Poppy. At least not today. But when I get married next week, consider this the end…”
“The end of what?”
“The end of everything.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Eddie
One Week Later
“You must’ve been a cat in another life, Eddie,” Wesley laughs on the other side of the screen. “That’s the only explanation for how you’ve managed to dodge Amber finding out about Pippa.”
Shrugging, I struggle to hold on to the receiver. The thing feels a bit slimy today. “How you holding up?” I question, trying to change the subject. “What did the judge say?”
“What we were dreading,” he said quietly. “Five years. Three if I’m a good boy.”
“Fuck, five years is a long time.”
