Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 72122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
“What the heck is going on?” I asked Tiffany.
Tiffany’s face was the picture of innocence. “I was informed by Kenneth two days ago that this dress was to be fitted to Destiny’s liking. Is that wrong?”
Is that wrong?
“What?” I asked, confusion clouding my features.
I couldn’t think straight.
Why would Kenneth care about another woman’s body fitting into my wedding dress? Unless that dress wasn’t actually my dress at all, but a nearly exact replica.
It looked to be about four sizes smaller than the one that I’d had.
Surely that wasn’t my dress.
Surely.
“That’s not my dress, is it?” I asked, relief flooding through me. “But why would Kenneth care what she wears?”
I didn’t even know her.
How did Kenneth know her?
Speaking of the devil, my phone rang, and I pulled my phone up to my ear and answered immediately.
“Kenneth,” I said. “I’m trying to get my dress fitted, and some lady is here wearing a dress that looks like mine that they say you ordered it for her to wear and to have fitted to her liking.”
“Shit,” Kenneth cursed. “V, we need to talk.”
I hated when he called me V, but that wasn’t something I could control. He did it whether I asked him to stop or not, so what was the point in correcting him?
I should’ve corrected him, because the next twenty minutes were spent with him explaining in that condescending tone of his that ‘you’re so damaged, V,’ and by the time he was finished, the only thing I wanted to do was to completely obliterate the letter V from the English language.
Oh, that and change my name of course.
Chapter 1
Let’s settle this argument like adults…in the bed…naked.
-Truth to Verity
Truth
“One man’s used up slut is another man’s brand new bride.”
I can see now that that wasn’t the best way to start my best man speech.
Then again, I was still trying to figure out why the hell Kenneth asked me to be his best man in the first place. Especially since the bride he had just married had been my girlfriend just a few short weeks ago.
But whatever.
For some reason, he’d asked me, and my own morbid curiosity had me saying yes. Why, exactly, I’d agreed was yet to be determined, but I probably should’ve at least considered not drinking before I came to this shitstorm farce of a wedding.
Outraged gasps filled the air around me, but I didn’t take my eyes off of the bride and groom, who were staring at me venomously as I grinned back at them.
What had they honestly expected me to do?
I was a biker. I was also known to be the kind of man who spoke his mind.
I hadn’t been happy about the fact that my woman had fucked some other man while being in a relationship with me. I haven’t always been happy with her, however, she would’ve still been with me had I not witnessed that.
It’d been right at three weeks since I’d caught them fucking on my bike.
Yes, let me repeat that.
I caught them fucking. On. My. Bike. I have to keep saying that in my head because I still can’t believe I saw it.
My bike meant the world to me, and I hadn’t been able to sit on it without thinking about them since.
Motherfuckers.
A snicker from my side had me turning to see the girl that I’d walked in with tonight.
The same girl who looked like she wanted to be here about as much as I did…which wasn’t much at all.
I was now regretting my position as best man, and if my mother wasn’t here to witness me abandoning my duties, I might have left already.
That girl, though… the brunette with the wavy hair in the dress that was painted onto an ass to die for? Well, she almost made it worth it.
Almost.
The only thing that would turn my frown upside down was a goddamned beer. So it figured that the one wedding in the history of all weddings that needed alcohol the most didn’t have it.
IE, this one.
“I think it’s time to give up the microphone, T,” I heard said from my side.
I turned to find my cousin, Eugene, looking at me with a thin sheen of sweat dotting his brow.
“What?” I asked. “You wanted to give a best man speech?”
I was an asshole.
My cousin, Eugene, had a fear of crowds.
For him to even attempt to get the microphone away from me took balls on his part, but I was one pissed off man, so I wasn’t giving him the mic, even though he did ask nicely.
“N-no,” he shook his head adamantly. “I was t-trying to…”
He stopped speaking when I held up my hand. “Then let me finish.”
He sighed and backed away, turning his apologetic eyes to his brother, Kenneth, and then went back to his seat.
Kenneth punched him in the arm the moment he sat down, and I wanted to punch him in the face.