Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
"Liars liars, pants on fire," Presley says. "Shelby was asking if Travis lost his goddamn mind. Then I told him that he never loved Jennifer."
"True," Clarabella says, and my eyes widen, and she looks at me. She laughs. "You can’t actually stand there and tell us that you loved Jennifer." She looks at me, and I want to say that I did, but I look down at my coffee. "Exactly, you were never you," she starts to say. "I mean, look at this place. You bought this house and never brought her here." I swallow down. "You never even told her."
"It never came up,” I lie to her. I will not tell anyone why I bought this house four years ago. No one, except for the woman who just walked out.
"Wait a second," Shelby says, holding up a finger. "When I asked you about the wedding night, you said that you would rent a room at the hotel."
"I did rent a room," I tell them. "I told you guys not to decorate here. I specifically said I wasn’t coming here on my wedding night."
"You said you didn’t want to bring Jennifer here, yet you brought Harlow," Shelby continues as if she’s fucking Sherlock Holmes.
"Because he doesn’t love Jennifer," Clarabella says, and I look at her. "When you are with Harlow, it’s like you are you."
"What the fuck does that even mean?" I say, frustrated that everyone is all in my business and that all of this is coming out.
"You never really laugh," Presley says. "It’s just like…" She doesn’t know what word to say, so Shelby comes up with one.
"Boring," Shelby says. "You are very boring." Her face grimaces.
"But then, with Harlow, you are joking and laughing. You held her hand coming down the stairs," Clarabella says. "I never saw you kiss Jennifer. Not once."
I tilt my head to the side. "So we weren’t touchy-feely." I drink a cup of coffee, and it tastes sour in my mouth.
"Can I share my thoughts?" Clarabella says, holding up her hand.
"Why, you’ve been holding back?" I laugh.
She rolls her eyes. "When you broke up with Harlow," she starts. "We couldn’t even say her name. Every single time we saw you, you looked worse and worse." She wipes a tear away from her eye.
"Yeah, you looked like shit," Presley cuts in. "Your eyes were all sunken in. It was bad."
"And forget about us even saying her name. I remember once Mom mentioned her name, and you got this look in your eyes, and you left the house." I look down, remembering how hard it was for me. "Now you broke up with Jennifer yesterday, and you didn’t even bat an eye."
"Also, we’ve said Jennifer a million times, and you didn’t cry." Clarabella points at me. "Harlow walked out the door, and you looked like someone stole your ice cream."
"What do you want from me?" I ask all three of them.
"We want you to be happy, jerkoff," Shelby says, folding her arms over her chest. "And if Harlow makes you happy, own up to it."
"You are so lucky," Presley says, shaking her head. "If you broke up with me four years ago, and then you invited me to your wedding, the last thing I would give you was a blow job."
"Same," Clarabella says. "I would definitely kick you in the balls."
"She obviously still has feelings for him," Shelby says, and my heart skips a beat hoping she is right.
"Anyway, I’d love to sit here and chat about Romeo’s love life," Clarabella says. "But we have a brunch to get to."
"Also, please note," Shelby says. "I’m not cleaning anything in this house."
"You made this mess," I say, looking around at the house.
"You had sex in this house," she counters. "And the last thing I want to do is touch something that your ball sack touched."
"I would die," Presley says, stepping away from the counter. "Did you do it here?" She points at the counter. And I try to hide the smile. "Oh my God."
"I don’t think we did it in that spot." I point, and truth be told, we never left upstairs. "But it might be around there."
"I need a shower and disinfecting," Presley says, walking out the door. "Brunch in thirty. Don’t be late."
"Why are we having a brunch if there was no wedding?" I ask.
"Because the food was ordered, and we only invited your friends," Shelby states, walking out the door and slamming it shut.
"I guess I’ll find my own ride there," I say, shaking my head and looking around. I walk back upstairs to the bathroom and take a shower, showing up at the brunch forty-five minutes later in jeans and a polo shirt.
"There he is," Frankie says when I walk into the same room we were in last night. Except all the tables are gone but one round one in the middle. "Fuck, how are you not hungover?" he says when I get close enough to him. I take a look around and see it’s only the guys that are here so far.