Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 151044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
“I’m not.”
“If Elle was interested in someone else, I’d know about it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. We tell each other everything.”
He cocked his head as if to say he could prove me wrong. “Think about the situation, Meyers. You’re marrying my brother. Maybe she didn’t want to upset your plans.”
“How would her dating life affect my plans?”
He shrugged. “We’re both in the wedding. There are a lot of parties scheduled. She probably didn’t want to add more complications to your plate.”
“So she lied to me?” I scoffed. “If she dumped you for someone else, why are you defending her?” I couldn’t wrap my brain around how she might have failed to mention such a thing to me.
He shrugged. “Call it trying to be the bigger person.”
“So…you weren’t the one to suggest seeing other people?”
“Hell no. Why do you think I took a job in New York? I needed to get away.”
“What does this mean? Are you two broken up?”
“We were never officially dating.”
“You’ve been sleeping together for months!”
He held out his hands and shrugged. “Don’t take your frustrations out on me. This wasn’t my decision. I was having fun the way things were. But I’m not going to sit around while she spends all her time with some dope named Paul.”
Paul? Nope. Elle never mentioned any Paul to me. “When did this happen?”
“Around New Year’s. I sort of flipped out, so I figured it was best to get away for a while.”
My mind returned to my last conversation with Elle. Me asking her to come to New York. Me raving about my new Jeep. Me, talking about the wedding and my hair and the wedding. Me, being a total me monster blabbing about me, Me, MEEEE! “Oh, crap.”
“What?”
Feeling small and ashamed that I could be so preoccupied with my own world that I’d somehow miss such massive drama in my best friend’s life, I quietly asked, “Why didn’t she tell me?” But then I heard the me in my question and I felt sick. “This wedding’s turning me into a total narcissist.”
“No, it’s not. I’ve seen other brides run around for months acting worse than Mussolini. You barely bring up the wedding.”
Maybe not to Barrett, but it had been the focus of most of my conversations with Elle lately. “What kind of friend am I if she can’t even tell me about her breakup.”
“Well, it’s not necessarily a breakup.”
“Semantics.”
The black town car pulled up and Marty stepped out to get my door. Barrett seemed to recognize him but didn’t say hello.
“Rayne, please don’t tell her you saw me kissing someone else. We both understand the rules. Telling her will only make things worse. It changes nothing.”
I hesitated. “I wish I hadn’t seen you.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. And you looked really pretty in your dress.”
The truth was, I couldn’t deliberately do anything that might hurt Barrett. He was a slut but he was also a big softy. I growled, frustrated that I now had knowledge I couldn’t openly share without Elle wondering how I acquired it. “Fine. I’m sorry I punched you in the meat and veggies.”
Doing the Dirty
IN MY MOJO DOJO CASA PENTHOUSE
New York was manageable when a girl had half a dozen handlers. Devyn made all of my appointments. Josette scouted the best delis for the most delicious New York bagels—I told her we were testing them for the wedding. Quinn handled my timeline. Seraphina ordered my wedding attire, Percy kept me hydrated and fed, and Marty drove me anywhere I needed to go.
I had called Elle the day I saw Barrett, careful not to bring up anything wedding-related, but she still made no mention of the other guy or her breakup. Since she was clearly avoiding the topic, I decided not to bring it up. I just didn’t understand why we were suddenly keeping things from each other. Her secrecy hurt my feelings as much as it pissed me off.
Every day, when I talked to Hale over video chat, he sounded more groggy than the last. The jet-lag from so many short trips from one opposing time zone to the next was wearing on him.
His schedule was almost twelve hours behind mine so it always felt like I was delivering old news. We talked every morning, Tokyo time, which was usually around dinner time in New York.
I told him about my dress and the salon trips and how I’d caught Barrett making out on the street. Hale, the picture of diplomacy, saw nothing wrong with the situation.
“They’re both adults, Rayne.”
Just once I’d like him to respond to drama like a regular irrational person. Instead, he remained unshakably calm and acted all lukewarm whenever I had hot tea to spill. “That may be true, Hale, but Elle lied to me about it.”