“Whitney Nicole Wheeler, if you are not on my doorstep in fifteen minutes I swear to all that is holy I am going to make you take tequila shots this weekend.”
My best friend is a pain in my ass. It isn’t my fault I forgot my contacts at home. She acts like I don’t want to have our girls’ weekend as planned. This weekend is the highlight of section six in the wedding planning album. Obviously, it’s important to me.
“Jessi, I’m coming. I forgot my contacts on the counter. I just have to run in and grab them,” I say as I rush from my car and up to our front door. I was three blocks from Jessi’s apartment when I realized I never picked up the contact lens holder from the bathroom counter. Sure, I could have picked her up and then back-tracked to my house, but I didn’t want to listen to her complain the entire drive, so I opted to turn around and call her instead.
I’m close to the front step when I notice Trenton’s car in the driveway. He didn’t mention he was coming home early today, but considering how late he’s been working lately I’m not surprised. He’s probably exhausted. I know the looming junior partnership at his law firm is weighing heavily on his mind, and the fact that he’s taking off two weeks for the pre-wedding activities and our honeymoon only added to his stress.
“Shit,” I exclaim as I drop my keys and almost my phone as I try to quickly unlock the door. Once I manage to get my act together and unlock the door, I step through the threshold only to drop not only my keys again but also the phone.
“Yeah baby, just like that. God, your mouth is fucking fantastic.”
This is not happening.
No.
Just no.
In the distance I can hear Jessi calling my name, but I can’t move. I just stand watching as my fiancé sits on our couch, his hands holding onto a mane of long blonde hair, as a woman sucks his cock into her mouth. His moans and her slurping fill the air, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to throw up.
Or kill him.
Possibly both.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
“Fuck,” Trenton says as he stands quickly then a sound that is part groan and scream falls from his lips as I see blondie didn’t pull her mouth from his dick as he stood. Good. I hope she bit it and he fucking bleeds.
“Babe, what . . . you’re . . . it’s not what you think.”
“It’s not what . . . are you kidding me?” I snarl. I’m shaking, and my breath is labored. I may be having a heart attack. This cannot be happening to me. We’re getting married in eight days. Eight.
I’m about to lay into him for his ridiculous response when a loud banging starts filling the room. I look down to where my phone lies on the floor and know it’s Jessi wondering what happened. I pick up my phone and bring it to my ear.
“I’m going to be late. Tequila is so on the table,” I declare before clicking the end call button.
“Whit, baby,” Trenton begins as he stuffs his limp dick in his pants, but I put my hand up and turn my attention to the woman still on her knees in front of my couch. Her hair is mussed and her lipstick smeared.
“Really, Eliza?” I spit out as I cross my hands over my chest. She doesn’t stand up nor does she offer an apology. Instead, she crawls—yes, crawls—toward where Trenton has moved. “I don’t think so, honey. I’m pretty sure your moment has passed. You can get the fuck out of my house.”
Trenton’s secretary, yes, the cliché is happening right before my eyes. But in my case, this scene is playing out in my house and not his office like the good little porn he’d like it to be. Finally Eliza stands and wipes the corners of her mouth as if that will help the mess she’s made. Both figuratively and literally. When she smooths her skirt and turns her attention to Trenton and opens her mouth to speak to him, it’s too much.
“Nope, you don’t get to talk to him. Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. House.” I watch as Eliza’s eyes widen with the realization that I may completely lose my mind in two point four seconds. For the first time today, she makes the wise choice of shutting her mouth. I watch as Trenton nods his head to her, obviously giving her permission to leave, and she scurries from the room.
The front door slams, pulling my attention from Trenton, and it’s then I spot her four-inch stilettos next to Trenton’s. I walk casually toward the door to retrieve them, and without a second thought, I open the front door and toss the shoes out like trash before slamming the door shut again.
“Baby, please let me explain.”
I turn my body so I’m facing Trenton and instead of offering him my attention, walk past him to the master bedroom. I can hear his footsteps as he follows me, his throat clearing as he no doubt attempts to come up with an excuse for what I just witnessed. I don’t acknowledge him and walk into the master bathroom, retrieve my contact lenses and make my way back to the front door. When my hand reaches the door knob, I pause and turn my head to meet his eyes.
“Please, Whit. I’m sorry. I love you. Let me fix this.”
“You can’t fix this, Trenton. You broke my heart. And your promise.” The first hint of my pain is evident in my voice as I take a deep breath to hold off the tears I know are going to fall, and fast.
Without another word to Trenton, I open the front door just in time to see Eliza running across our front lawn picking up her shoes. I wish I had better aim and they had landed in the street, because the sound of the street sweeper in the distance sends a visual of their demise and that makes me smile.
Trenton is still saying my name, begging me to listen, when I close the door behind me, wondering if I’ll ever walk through it again.
My drive to Jessi’s apartment was a blur. My heart’s cracked in two, and I haven’t stopped crying since I fell into her arms an hour ago. She’s trying to be supportive and let me cry, but I also know it’s killing her. She’s hated Trenton and everything he represents since I started dating him three years ago. She thinks the wedding album and my marriage plan is ridiculous.
“Honey, you have to know this is for the best.” Her hands caress my long dark hair as I lay my head on her lap. For the briefest moment, I envy cats and their ability to have humans rub their heads and backs like this. Damn, cats really do live the good life. Nap, eat, stretch, head massage from humans. Repeat.
“How can you say that, Jess? Trenton and I are supposed to be married next week.” My argument is weak, even I know that.
“Yeah well, I say you dodged a fucking bullet. I told you, I don’t trust anyone who has fourteen pairs of khakis and has his underwear laundered. Who does that? Dickheads, that’s who.”
Her reference to his khaki collection makes me laugh a little; she does have a point. On paper Trenton is the guy I’m supposed to marry. He is all part of the big picture. My happily ever after.
I dated in high school but didn’t sleep around. I saved myself for my first love. Or, who I thought was my first love. Turns out, the love was one-sided on my part, and he moved on within two days of me offering my virginity to him. Asshole.
In college, I had one mission. Only date guys who were safe and had long-term goals. Enter Trenton Carmichael. I met Trenton one day as I was waiting in line for coffee. He asked me if I knew the difference between almond milk and soy milk and the rest was history. He was handsome with his light brown hair cut like most of the frat guys, his bright blue eyes danced with just enough mischief that I felt my pulse race, and his smile made me feel like the prettiest girl around.
After a few dates with Trenton, I knew he fit the bill for my perfect match. He was career driven, family oriented, and made me feel special. Sure, when he kissed me I didn’t feel like I could drown in his kisses but really, who does? I’m smart enough to know butterflies and heart flutters I read about in my romance novels don’t happen in real life. Real life is finding a perfect match, someone who shares your interests and dreams and making it work. That’s what I grew up thinking life was supposed to be. I thought I had that with Trenton.
Well, until I found Eliza sucking him off in our living room. Turns out, I had it all wrong.
“Do you want me to call the other girls and tell them the weekend is off? We can just hang out here and eat a bunch of fried food and drink wine. Whatever you want.” And, that is why Jessi has been my best friend since our first day of middle school. She’s my ride or die. My sister from another mister. My constant and my truest love.
“The hotel is non-refundable. I don’t want anyone to know about this,” I say as I lift my head from her lap and wipe my tear-streaked face with my sleeve.
“Yes. I think a girls’ weekend is what you need. When we get home on Sunday, we’ll talk to your parents and then . . .”
I cut her off before she can continue, “Let’s just get through the weekend. I’m not sure what I’m going to do.”
“What? Of course you’re calling it off. Fuck that asshole.”
“I’ve made a commitmen—”
“So did he, when he put that ring on your finger. Doesn’t seem to be high on his list of priorities.”
“Look, I appreciate you supporting me. I’m hurt and confused. He seemed really sorry, and . . .”
“Nope. He’s not fucking sorry, Whit. He got caught. There’s a difference. Look, nothing needs to be dealt with tonight. Let’s get out of here and meet up with Courtney and Jen at the hotel. We’ll order room service, drink too much wine, and watch your favorite romcoms. Tomorrow we have the spa day all set up and then some fun plans for tomorrow night.”
“Sounds perfect. But umm . . . maybe instead of the romcoms, can we watch some scary movies. I don’t know if I can handle all the love and happiness tonight.”
“Done. Let’s blow this pop stand,” she declares, bringing her fingers to her mouth in mock horror. “Whoops, sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up blowing.”
I roll my eyes at her before smacking her with one of the throw pillows on her couch. She laughs and it’s only seconds before I’m joining her.
The drive to the downtown hotel isn’t far but it’s enough for us to put the afternoon behind me and focus on the night ahead. Girl time is exactly what I need.