Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 100376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
She looks like she’s taking her frustrations out on her teeth. Her mouth is full of toothpaste. Ignoring me, she stares at herself in the mirror.
“I’ll be back in a couple hours.” I don’t bother drying off. The bathroom is so small it’s pointless. I need to call Jerry, my realtor, and get him to work on house hunting again. I brush past her and into the bedroom to grab a black T-shirt and some clean jeans.
She spits and rinses her mouth. “Edge.”
“Yeah?” I pull on my boot.
“This is crazy. You can’t force me to marry you.”
I reach for my other boot as I stand towering over her. She straightens her shoulders making her tits jut out.
“You did this, Dolly. You.” I reach for my cigarettes and wallet.
“That’s not fair. In my defense—” Her hands start waving around, but I’m done.
“You have no defense.” I glance around for my phone. “You can either marry me tonight or deal with the repercussions of your behavior with the police.”
“It’s charging on the counter,” she snips.
I shake my head and look down at my phone, which has numerous missed calls and texts. “Always a fight with you, Dolly. But in the end, I always win.”
I grab the keys to her car since my bike is in the shop for maintenance. Walking straight up to her, I grab her chin and her eyes glisten with tears.
“What’s it gonna be?”
Her breathing is harsh with a slight hiss to it, causing me to grind my teeth so hard my jaw starts to twitch.
“Fine. I’m wearing black. This is all wrong.” She jerks her chin out of my grip, but I wrap my hand around her arm. She glances down at my fingers, which hold her captive, then up to my eyes. “This is bad luck, Edge. You need to propose, ask my dad, or…”
I have to stop her insanity.
Bad luck?
I almost throw my head back and laugh. Her lack of happiness at being my wife hurts more than I’ll ever admit and that’s bad luck. Dropping her arm, I lean down to pick up my cut, saying over my shoulder, “You can be naked for all I care.”
DOLLY
Thirty-one years old
“Oh God.” I sit at the end of my bed. My hands clutch the sheets on both sides of me as I let everything sink in.
I’m getting married to the one man I have loved since I can remember. “And he didn’t even ask me?” I look around my small apartment, strangely calm yet sensing the cobwebs from yesterday clearing.
He literally jerked himself off on me, not that he hasn’t done it before. Edge loves to come on me. But this was different. What the fuck?
My mind replays my actions yesterday as I cover my face with my hands and groan in horror. “Great, fucking great, Dolly.” The acid in my stomach makes its way up my esophagus as I try to stop any tears. I’m not sad.
I think I fucked up. I’m trying to give myself some sort of out. But from the moment he kissed me goodbye and entered the club, I noticed he left his wallet, and I was probably three to five minutes behind him. Why did I listen to that stupid, fucking bartender?
My phone vibrates. I turn to glance at it but know I desperately need a shower. Everything I’m doing seems almost robotic. Maybe I’m in shock.
I look around my pretty little room. The sun’s bright rays showcase my numerous dresses and shoes.
“What’s happening?” I should try to roll with everything. It’s all I’ve dreamed about and wanted for as long as I can remember.
But not like this. All my fantasies of Edge getting down on one knee and doing it in the most romantic way are gone. Destroyed.
No dress.
No rings.
No flowers or bridesmaids.
No walk down the aisle. Nothing. All so bad, so fucked up. Why would he insist on this?
Because we have to. I stand up wanting to scream that he might not even want to marry me. He says he loves me, but marriage is a whole ’nother ball game. My stomach twists with anxiety.
I try to calm myself with the knowledge that there must be people who can forge a marriage certificate. He’s not doing that, so does he truly want to get married?
He loves me. I know it. I might be jealous, but deep inside, I know it. My mind wanders to the intense sex we had yesterday; I haven’t denied him like that in a while.
My hand goes to my neck. It’s almost as if I’m in a dream and the bold truth has yet to hit me. I’m going to marry Edge. A small flutter of excitement ripples through me as I flip on my bathroom light.
I need to think. Get a solid plan. This is happening and I need to decide what I want. Reaching up to start the shower, I acknowledge the truth: I want Edge.