Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Sawyer yanks his hands back and shakes them out, but he’s still looking at me, glaring more like.
“Are we done?” I ask, annoyed that my voice sounds so wobbly and unsure.
“Yes, let’s just have Sawyer walk you down the aisle so Amber and Michael can get a feel for the pacing. This is another iconic moment the photographer will want to capture. All the guests will be clapping with excitement, and you two will be beaming with joy.”
“They’re not beaming,” Michael notes jokingly.
He’s right. A smile is too much for me at the moment.
“About midway down the aisle, I would ask that you pause, Michael, and give Amber a little dip or another kiss. The photo will be stunning with your guests all around you.”
Sawyer does not dip me or kiss me. He practically drags me down the aisle, shooting a menacing glare over at Crawford before we break free through the doors. Then he shakes me off him.
“Tell Queenie she owes me,” he spits, already walking away.
“Queenie doesn’t owe you jack shit!”
Oh, the curse feels good. I wish I could keep more coming, but when Sawyer whirls around and faces me, I gulp and clam up. His eyes are so fiercely angry I want to cower.
“Get out of here, Madison. Wedding planning or not, I don’t want to see you on my vineyard ever again.”
“Your vineyard? God, you’re so arrogant! You know what?” I point a finger at him. “Kendra was right to want to teach you a lesson.”
He rears back. “Kendra? Henke?”
He looks blown away by the name, like he’s forgotten she even existed.
“Yes, Kendra Henke! Don’t you remember the girl you used to date in high school?!”
“DATE?” He laughs caustically. “You’re kidding me.”
I jab my finger into his chest. “That girl was obsessed with you and you knew it. You took advantage of it!”
Deep down, I don’t believe any of this anymore, haven’t for a while, but he’s got me so worked up that it feels good to fling baseless accusations at him. After all, he’s charged and sentenced me for crimes I didn’t really commit. I might as well do the same.
“You were always the golden boy, Sawyer. Getting any girl you wanted.” I sound utterly disgusted by it.
His jaw rolls with anger, but I don’t stop.
“When I came back to town and you made it clear you were interested in me, Kendra saw it as the perfect opportunity to give you a taste of your own medicine. You came on to me so strong and I’d just about had enough of men in general after Matthew, so Kendra suggested I accept your date and break your heart the way you’ve broken so many hearts before me.”
I see his good opinion of me dying a swift death—the residual warmth draining from his eyes—and yet I can’t stop. It feels too good to get the truth off my chest.
“And yeah, like an idiot, I went through with it against my better judgment!” I explode, flinging my arms out, really letting it all go. “God, it was such a stupid plan. There was no real end goal. I guess you were supposed to fall for me and then I’d ghost you or something, but you just couldn’t do what I needed you to do.” I narrow my eyes accusingly. “You kept pushing and pushing and pushing, and making it impossible to stay away from you. At The Black Door, I called off Kendra’s half-baked plan. I wanted nothing to do with it, but it was too late. Your little Charlotte heard me on the phone with Kendra and ran straight to you. I can only imagine what she said and how she said it, painting me as the villain. Well I don’t care, Sawyer.” I slow down here, enunciating every word. “There you go. All of it.”
I heave a deep cleansing sigh and start to walk away, but not before I turn back one more time. “And by the way, I’ll happily stay away from your vineyard! For all of eternity, in fact! Tell Queenie I’m walking home!”
I make it about a mile away with the hot Texas sun scorching me from above before I’m so overheated I peel off the side of the road and take a seat in the shade beneath a giant oak tree. I’m hoping to be rescued by Queenie, but a squirrel finds me first, eyeing me suspiciously with its beady little eyes.
“What?”
The squirrel cocks its head to the left.
“I’m kinda busy sulking here, leave me alone.”
It skitters up the oak tree and accidentally—or more likely, on purpose—pelts me with an acorn from above. I rub the spot on my head and glower up at it. It’s probably Sawyer’s squirrel. He’s trained it to torment me.
Gravel kicks up on the road and an old beat-up red truck slows to a stop in front of me.