Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Indie: Sounds cozy. You can sleep in my room.
I chuckle. Why? I don’t know. This fucking hurts. I’ll be sleeping in a bed with Jolene, probably less than twenty feet from Indie’s bedroom. She needs to get out of that house, out of this state. Far … far away from the Ellingtons.
Milo: That’s a nice offer. Thanks.
Three dots appear, but no message.
Then nothing.
Again, three dots.
Then nothing.
Milo: Stop drinking. Go to sleep, Indie girl.
Nothing.
Has she passed out? Is she asleep? Mad? Is she okay?
Milo: You still there?
Now, I’m going crazy. I pace the room a few times, tossing the rest of my sandwich in the sink. Before I lose what’s left of my mind, I call her.
It only rings once before she answers. “Breaking your own stupid rules and calling me?”
“Jesus … what are you doing?”
“Waiting for you to call me. The wait is over, and I couldn’t be happier. Is it really so torturous to hear my voice?”
“Yes.”
“Aw, that’s sweet. Listen, Jolene dragged me to buy lingerie today. She’s wearing all white under her wedding dress. Please tell me you’re not having sex with her like … ever.” Indie hiccups. “Oops … excuse me.” She giggles.
Maybe the whiskey is a blessing—anything to keep her laughing in the face of the upcoming event.
“Stop drinking. Go to sleep. Okay?”
“Is that a yes or no? Are you going to have sex with her on your wedding night? I need to plan accordingly. If you’re having sex with Jolene, then I’m having sex with my wedding date. So … it’s up to you.”
“Indie, it’s not a game.”
“It’s the worst game, Milo. And you’re the biggest pawn!”
I pull the phone away from my ear while her words slay me. It’s her tone more than the actual words. An unfamiliar tone. It’s poison or the jagged edge of a knife.
Not drunk words.
Not pleading words.
Not hurt words.
Indie’s livid … at me.
“I’ll be too drunk to have sex … ever again.” I want to mean it. Comfortably inebriated seems like my best chance at a happy marriage with Jolene.
“Good boy. Listen … don’t get sloshed and impotent on your wedding day until you fuck me. It’s all I want for my birthday this year, Christmas … and all future gift-giving holidays.”
I laugh. “For me to fuck you?”
“Technically, it’s to fuck Jolene’s husband before she does on the day she becomes his wife. Can you imagine? There isn’t anything more humiliating than that. It’s like eating someone’s whole birthday cake while the candles are still lit.”
This is a new side to Indie. I’ve always thought she was like Ruthie, the gentle yet strong type. Clearly, I never want to cross her.
“Indiana … I think you should be sick on that day. You should do whatever it takes not to be at the wedding.”
“Wow. You don’t want me there?”
“No. I don’t.”
She doesn’t respond. I won’t take it back. It’s the truth. I don’t want Indie watching me marry Jolene.
“That’s rude.”
“Indie …”
Another long pause fills the space between us.
“I know,” she whispers. “I don’t want to be there either.”
21
’TIL DEATH
INDIE
The Wedding
I want to crawl out the window and run to the barn, but I don’t.
I want to make myself vomit and bow out of my personal attendant duties, but I don’t.
The list of things I want is forever long, but I know I’ll cave to the pressure and conform. I’ll put on the ugly dress and curl my hair.
I’ll smile on cue and wait on Jolene, fulfilling her every request.
Staring at my phone, I contemplate sending Milo a message. But what would I say? This is happening.
Do I make him feel any worse than he already feels?
“Rise and shine, Indiana. Today’s the day.” Pauline’s cheery voice drifts down the hallway, eating at my skin like acid.
I toss my phone aside. If Milo thought there was anything left to say, he’d call or text me.
It’s been almost a month since graduation, almost a month since we’ve had sex. Almost a month since we’ve been alone. It feels like a lifetime.
“There you are.” Pauline makes me jump when I open the door to my bathroom, one towel around my head, the other around my naked body.
“Chop. Chop. We have hair and makeup in thirty minutes. Don’t keep the bride waiting.”
“I can do my hair and makeup.” I tighten the towel around my body.
“Afraid not. We have a stylist who will decide what’s best for you today.”
As long as I live here, I will never make my own decisions. This is it. This is the very last day Pauline and Fletcher will dictate over me. I’m doing this for Milo. His trip to Hell should be as smooth as possible.
“Give me five minutes to get dressed.” I practice my best smile. I might as well use them up; it’s unlikely I’ll smile again after today.