Chapter 39

Becky

8:55 PM THURSDAY

It takes a few minutes for the story I just heard to fucking sink in. As much as I don’t want to fucking believe it, I know Percy would never lie to me.

I guess I should have felt the same way about Liam, but look—I just married him last night. We hardly even know each other.

Sighing, I realize that if you really don’t want to hear something, you’re prepared to go to any length not to hear it.

But Percy wouldn’t lie to me. Not about something like that. Even as she tells the story, I can almost feel the weight of the fire poker in my hands.

Which means that Liam didn’t lie to me either.

It feels good that my new husband hasn’t lied to me, I guess.

But my fiancé—no, ex-fiancé—cheated on me. And that doesn’t feel good at all.

I pick up my champagne flute and empty it in one fucking go. It’s slightly lukewarm, and the once bouncy bubbles are a little flat. But I need something wet to tip down my parched fucking throat.

Of course it makes no difference. My mouth and throat feel as if I’ve been walking through the desert for a year without food or water―well maybe not a year, but a very long time anyway.

All four of us sit silently, taking in the gravity of what we just heard.

“Fuck that motherfucker,” I say suddenly, and then I do the only rational thing to do just then:

I throw my fucking champagne flute against the wall.

“Go girl!” Sammi high fives Percy, and I watch their palms meet mid-air. Percy has a grin of victory all over her face.

“Are you glad you know?” Mysti May looks at me like she’s concerned.

I guess maybe she should be.

Could anyone be happy to hear their fucking fiancé cheated on them? No, of course not. And if you really think about it, it’s way more than Dan cheating on me.

The man was a fucking hypocrite, that’s what he was―no, that’s who he is. He’s a hypocrite.

I can still hear his monologues in my ear about my past and how bad I was for enjoying being a party girl.

Now, Becky, he would say. There’s more to life than partying all the time. I wouldn’t brag about how many nightclubs you and your friends visit in one night or how you beat anyone at the rumba if you’ve had enough to drink. In fact, in my circles, this sort of behavior is frowned upon. When you meet insert-name-of-boring-person, I would not talk about such mindless things. Try and think of something a little more interesting.

On and fucking on he would go about it.

With the rose-colored glasses now well and truly knocked off my face, I can see what sort of a person he really is.

How dare he criticize me when he’s no fucking better? The more I dwell on it, the worse I realize he’s been.

At least I’ve always owned who I am. I may not be the smartest, wisest, or most educated bitch around, but I stand by who I am. I’m a real person and not some fake ass hypocrite like Dan.

And boy, have I fucking tried to please him. I can’t fucking believe the sacrifices and changes I made for him.

He probably never loved me.

The more I think on it, the more I realize what he must truly have been during the relationship.

He was just a big, fat fake. Obviously, when he was ‘away on business’, he was fucking about and partying. He was not holier than me at all. On the contrary, I was the better person all along.

I tried to make it work for real and turn into the person he wanted me to be…which I’m not quite sure anymore who that was meant to be.

I grab the bottle Sammi had used to fill up my glass and take a big swig from it. My head is still hurting, and I need to rally my thoughts.

There’s no repressing going on here anymore, nope.

Finally, I see Dan the man for who the fuck he is: a real shit.

Liam.

My thoughts turn to Liam. My husband.

Shit.

He’s actually my husband.

Just thinking about him brings a smile to my face. Liam, through all of this, has been fucking fantastic. I replay some of the highlights of the last few days and realize how much fun he and I have had.

There was the strip club, the fucking amazing sex, and not to mention his gentle side and the wedding.

That wedding was something else: me in my SLUT tiara, Liam in an Elvis costume. And a fucking good-looking Elvis Liam was.

Then there was the―no. Best not to think of all the fucking fun we did. Right now, it’s suddenly a bit too painful since he stormed out.

Where was he now? Argh. Why had I been so stupid and pushed him away when I had asked for his help in the first place?

From the first time he met me, he had done his very best to be there for me.

Fucking stupid. That’s what I’ve really been all this time. Especially when it came to Liam.

I need to find Liam. I need to speak to him. I need to let him know―wait, what do I need to let him know?

My eyes find the green velvet box he gave me. With a shaking hand, I open it.

At first, I only stare at the contents. My heart beats a little faster, and for a few seconds, everything becomes a little fuzzy. I blink the tears away.

He told me he loves me.

He married me the night he fucking met me.

And I’ve been a total bitch to him.

This whole fucking time. Even though all he’s done is try to help.

And now—holy shit. He’s given me a ring.

I need to tell him I love him, too.

I’m still staring at the one-of-a-kind emerald ring in the box, which I find fits perfectly. Fucking fuck. It’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen in my life.

Frantically, I look for my phone. I need to call Liam. I need to tell him now.

When I have it, I’m in such a hurry I accidentally press Dan’s mobile number.

Fuck fuck fuck, no no, go away. Quickly, I push down on the end call button. I don’t want to speak to Dan ever again.

When I try a second time to dial Liam’s number, I accidentally drop the phone. “Come on, Becky,” I mutter and bend down to pick it up.

On my third attempt, I hear the familiar ring tone. My whole body is shaking, and I’m rehearsing what I’m going to say.

“Liam, darling, you were right all along”―no, that’s fucking lame. Should I grovel?

Maybe I’ll need to say something like “Oh, Liam, can you ever forgive me pleaseeee?”

A little better, but I don’t think it’ll cut it. I bite my bottom lip.

He’s still not picked up the phone.

Shit.

What about just asking him if he’ll meet me and then just kiss him and beg for forgiveness? Of course, I’ll tell him I love him. Doing it in person would have the benefit of me being able to touch him.

Ugh. Bad idea, Becky.

“Liam Black’s phone.” When a female voice answers, I nearly drop the phone into the ice bucket with the champagne bottle. Ouch, that would have been a fucking disaster. Most of the ice has melted, which means my mobile would have gone for a little bath.

“Ehm.” I’m not sure what to say. I didn’t expected a woman to answer Liam’s phone. Had he run away from me into the arms of another woman for a consolation fuck?

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

I feel tears about to spill again. I really was a stupid, gullible little girl. How could I really think Liam was in love with me and right now pining for my lost love?

“Hello?” the female voice rouses me out of my miserable thoughts. “It’s Dahlia, Liam’s personal assistant. How can I help you?”

Personal assistant?

Of course.

I smack my forehead with the palm of my left hand.

“It’s Becky here,” I manage to croak into the phone. “I was just wondering if I could speak with Liam please?”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Becky, but I don’t know where he is.” There’s a bit of a hesitation before she continues. “Are you the Becky I’ve heard so much about, Liam’s wife?”

At first, I nod mechanically before realize I’m on the phone, and so I say quickly, “The very same.”

“I haven’t seen him for a while. I assumed he was with you.”

Her words hit the mark. Guilt floods through me.

“Ehm, I really need to find him to smooth some things over,” I admit, and my mind’s working overtime now, trying to come up with places he might be.”

“Well, you go, girl, and find him. I’m rooting for you.”

“Thanks,” I say and hand the phone to Mysti May before I sprint out of the private bar. I hear Mysti May continuing the conversation where I left off in typical Texas beauty queen fashion.

“Dahlia, is it? Well, thank you, darlin’, just ever so much for your help. You know…has anyone ever told you that you have a lovely voice?”

If I was a betting woman—which I might be—I’d say that Mysti May might be hitting on Liam’s assistant right now.

I wish her luck. I probably need a little luck myself right now.

If I’m going to catch up to my husband and beg for his forgiveness, a little luck is all I need.