Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 212458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1062(@200wpm)___ 850(@250wpm)___ 708(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 212458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1062(@200wpm)___ 850(@250wpm)___ 708(@300wpm)
Sheila Crawford? The cunty wedding planner lives a few blocks away.
I shake it off. I can’t think about that.
As for Mason talking about how Rick smelled like sex? I don’t know if it was a one-off or if he’s been having an ongoing affair or affairs, but I can’t exactly be a hypocrite, can I? I spent the whole day yesterday having sex.
I do know we’re done. And I knew it before I set eyes on him last night. Setting eyes on him, though, there was definite guilt written all over his face. His drunk, reckless, selfish face.
He hasn’t laid a hand on me in a month and a half, shows no interest in doing so, and that’s a big sign I was ignoring. I’m not saying I’m irresistible, I could definitely stand to drop a dress size and I can get bitchy sometimes which might not be doing me any favors, but if you’re about to marry me and you’re already uninterested in having sex with me, what does that say about our future love life? About our future period?
Why is he having sex with other people when I was right there, wanting it, willing? I can’t believe that I’m gone two nights and that’s when cheating starts. I’m not that gullible. It’s just that he had extra opportunity to be blatant about it.
And all he cares about is this fucking wedding and how everything has to be perfect. And perfect equals his mother’s standards. Not mine.
The church they wanted, not the one my parents got married in that, before Mom and Dad split up, I’d thought of as where I’d eventually get married. Not a honeymoon I’d even enjoy. His mom got pushy about the menu, the dish pattern, ridiculed me for my desired wedding cake, tore down my suggestions for flowers. She even tried to talk Sally into getting hair extensions for the wedding pictures, like Sal doesn’t look absolutely beautiful just the way she is. And I’d felt like my voice got smaller and smaller over the past few months while I was manipulated about what Grammy Bullock would love and so on, so I told myself the wedding reception wasn’t nearly as important as the marriage itself. And then the marriage started to look like it’d be less than what I wanted and now I realize… far less than what I deserve. Did I ignore that nagging voice because I didn’t want it to be true?
I barely factor, other than being the wedding gopher and the one to listen to him drone on about what a Master of the Universe he is at work, at the gym, in his financial life, and so on.
I can’t even remember the last kiss I got from him that was more than a quick peck.
Yeah, I’ve been snippy with him for the past few weeks, but he’s been a pain in my ass and I’m under all that pressure because of his family.
But still… I’m shaken. I’m shaken up. My life has been turned upside down in twenty-four hours. And there’s all this supernatural stuff happening.
I need, right now, to do one thing and one thing only. Find Ivy and take her to Mom’s. Baby steps. Once I do that, I can focus on the rest. Canceling the wedding stuff while finding a way to deal with the witchcraft stuff, which… I can barely fathom how I’ll deal with, but we’ll start by combing through Aunt Nelle’s old things to look for clues as to who might be able to undo this.
Mason Quinn is a good guy. A nice guy. And he doesn’t deserve to feel sad that he can’t have me. He deserves to be freed from this spell that has him thinking we’re fated to be together, so he can go out and find the girl who belongs in this beautiful house, who will get to wake up to the view of this lake and see all the many snowflake sunsets with the view of Mason Quinn every day. Because that girl isn’t me. Unfortunately.
I need to get out of his embrace. Because it’s making me wish for things that aren’t mine to have.
I don’t know what’s next for me. I do know I’d better get down to executing my plan right now before he wakes up. Because it’s time to take control over the mess that’s my life.
19
Mason
I wake in an empty bed – she’s gone.
My little minx.
I burst from bed and follow my nose. She’s roamed the house, all of it, probably looking for keys so she could drive off.
I open the front door and see my truck and her car. She didn’t find the keys, so she’s on foot. She hasn’t gotten far, hasn’t been gone long. It’s early, only ten o’clock and we got back just a few hours ago, so I’m knackered, but she got that long nap in yesterday and slept most of the way home.