Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 70607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
"Neither did I, to be honest." He takes a deep breath and gets up. "But you got to grow up someday, and how good is it having a kick-ass boss lady at your side." He winks at me and turns to walk toward the stairs. "I'm going to go shower." He walks up the steps and stops. "If it's meant to be, it will be, right?" He just looks at me for a second, and he's about to tell me something, but then he turns and walks up the steps with his shoulders slumped.
"What in the fuck is going on?" I ask out loud, and then I take a pull of my beer. This time, it tastes bitter going down.
Picking up my phone, I dial Sheila, who answers after two rings. "Hello." Her voice is low.
"Hey, it's me," I say. "Were you sleeping?"
"Yeah, I guess I must have dozed off," she says. Her voice sounds groggy, and it almost sounds as if she's crying. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, I was just calling to say good night." I smile and look toward the coffee table in the middle of the room. The picture of the two of us is facing down on the table. Leaning forward, I pick up the frame, seeing the picture of the two of us when we had our first date. I place it back up next to the picture of the four of us taken four months ago on New Year's Eve. The four of us smiling next to each other.
"Okay," she says softly. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yeah, I'll be the one beside the groom," I joke with her, waiting for her to give anything, but she doesn't.
"I'll be the first one down the aisle." She tries to joke back with me, but her tone is all out of whack.
"Night," I say, and she hangs up, and I look at my phone.
"I changed my mind," I hear Joseph mumble when he comes back downstairs with just his boxers on. I look at him as he walks into the kitchen, and I hear him rumbling through things. I hear the cupboard doors keep slamming and all I can do is wait for him to come out. When he walks out, he's holding a bottle of whiskey in his hand. "Definitely need a couple of shots of this tonight." He unscrews the top and takes a deep pull of it. "Want some?" He offers me the bottle, and I just shake my head.
"Wedding night jitters." I laugh, leaning forward.
"I guess so," he says, taking another pull. "It'll be fine," he says more to himself than me as he takes another gulp of whiskey. "It'll be just fine."
Chapter 5
Shelby
"We can't be late," my mother says, walking out of the house. Actually, it's more like she is running out of the house.
"Yes, we can't be late," I mumble, walking down the steps of my family home, the festivities of last night already cleaned up. "How long has she been up for?" I ask my sisters, who come in the room looking as good as I feel. All three of us are dragging our asses.
"She came into my room at five to talk," Clarabella says. "Can't believe I didn't lock the door."
I walk out of the house, and I have to squint when the sun hits my eyes. "It's so bright," I whine, looking over at my sisters, who are wearing the same thing I'm wearing. White satin pants and a button-down short-sleeve satin shirt. Each shirt has our roles on it embroidered in pink. Bride is on mine, and I look down, and I want to rip it off.
I'm about to walk upstairs when I hear the horn going and look back to see my mother with her head out of the window. "We are going to be late!” she yells and then smiles. "My baby is getting married!” she screams and honks the horn again.
"Mom, it's seven o’clock," Clarabella hisses at her. "If I was your neighbor, I would call the cops on you,” she huffs, walking down the stairs, and I see Maid of Honor Number 1 on the back of her shirt.
"Might as well get in the car," Presley says, huffing and walking past me. "Or else she's going to pull you kicking and screaming all the way to the fucking altar."
"Well, that's a picture that I'd love to see," I huff, closing the door behind me, and I walk toward the car.
"I told you girls not to stay up late," my mother scolds when I get into the car. "I said that it was a bad idea when you took out the special sweet tea that Harlow's grandfather makes."
"Mom, a little less judgment," Clarabella says from the back seat. "And a little more driving to get me coffee."