Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 60342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
I turn slowly and face the discarded garment.
A heaviness settles in my chest, aching between my breasts. It would be unbearable if there wasn’t an even heavier feeling of contentment in my soul. I catch a glimpse in the full-length mirror leaning against the wall—a mirror I bought at a yard sale and put in that exact spot one summer afternoon.
My hair is swept up in the back, with tendrils framing my face. There’s enough makeup on my skin to film a movie. My breasts hang freely, and the white thong showcases the spray tan I didn’t want to get. I don’t look like me. No wonder I haven’t felt like me lately. Everything I always liked about myself—my freckles, sense of humor, boundless energy—is all gone.
I race into the en suite and find a washcloth and towel. Using a new bar of soap from beneath the sink, I scrub my face until my skin is pink. The abrasion of the cloth and sting of the soap are probably as metaphoric as they are cleansing, but when I look in the mirror over the vanity, I’m … free.
“There you are, Laina,” I say, smiling at my reflection. “Nice to see you again.”
It takes longer to settle my hair. Thanks to all the product the glam team used to make it picture-perfect and more bobby pins than was necessary, it takes my fingers and a comb I locate in a drawer to get it in some semblance of normalcy. I find a rubber band and pull it into a ponytail.
Each layer I peel away removes a cloak I knew was uncomfortable but didn’t realize how suffocating it was until now.
Tom won’t come in and see me without makeup and make a snide comment. He won’t mention that I won’t fit into my wedding dress if I don’t get my ass to the gym this morning. There is no chance he’ll come through the door and find a way to work a lyric from one of my songs into the conversation just so he can tease me about the juvenile language or ridiculous themes of my music.
And the look in his eyes, an arrogance that twinkled just enough to make me nervous, will no longer make my stomach tighten when we inevitably argue about one of those things.
“You’re good,” I whisper to myself. “This is not a dream.”
I wash the soles of my feet and dispose of the cloth in the bottom of the shower. I’ll get that later. Then I make my way to Luke’s closet.
“Okay, we have a shirt from the feed store, one from a power tools company, another from the feed store.” I laugh, sorting through the bin of shirts on the floor. “Oh, here’s a purple one from the feed store. Bet this was an exclusive piece of merch.”
I snort and pull the shirt over my head. The air is filled with the scent of his cologne—a warm pepperiness with a hint of apple, and the smell of his mother’s laundry detergent. The combination makes me smile from ear to ear.
Discarding my thong into the mass of tulle, the last layer of the morning to go, I throw on a pair of his boxers.
Then I breathe. Deeply. Completely. Unencumbered.
“Gosh, that feels good,” I say, closing the closet.
I turn to figure out what to do with my dress when a cordless phone catches my eye.
“He still has a landline?” I pick it up off the bedside table and press the green button. A dial tone buzzes back at me. “I didn’t know people still used these.”
I sit on the edge of the bed and wonder if I should go find Luke. But as my gaze travels to the heap of hoops on the floor, I punch Stephanie’s number into the phone instead. Surprisingly, she answers.
“Hello?” she asks, her voice full of hesitation.
“Hey, Steph. It’s me.”
“Oh, thank God,” she says, exhaling. “Are you okay?”
I glance around Luke’s bedroom. “I’m fine. How are you?”
“First, please remind your security team that I am your best friend, and rules don’t apply to me. The only reason I didn’t commit murder today is because Troy is freaking gorgeous, and I’m hoping he and I can hook up at some point.”
My laughter breaks the rest of the tension in my chest. “I’ll be sure to do that.”
“Otherwise, I’m fine. I’ll admit, I did get entirely too much joy out of telling your dad that you weren’t going to show up. And, I’ll also admit that I followed your father into the groom’s room to listen to him tell Tom.”
I gasp. “My father told Tom?”
“He sure did. A couple of security guys trailed us because your father literally started screaming at me and that got their attention.”
“I’m so sorry, Steph.”
“Don’t be.” She snorts. “I know he’s your dad, so with all due respect, fuck that guy. This literally made my year.”