Book #2 in the Medley series
JENNIFER RUE:
I thought I had my life all mapped out.
But nothing throws a wrench in your plans like finding your fiancé in bed with another woman.
Untangling myself from the damage Darren did is hard, but the more I...
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I wonder if it's considered bad luck to burn your wedding dress.
Through the crack in my closet door, I can glimpse it from where I lie on the bed. In the darkness of my room, the white tulle shines like a beacon, drawing my eye as I become progressively more numb to the image.
The dress is big and decorated; honestly, it's not something I would have picked out for myself if I hadn't been heavily influenced. It's a bit ostentatious. But beautiful, gorgeous, really.
It feels like a cosmic joke that the prettiest item of clothing I've ever owned would also become my most loathed possession.
So, in the privacy of my bedroom, I imagine dousing the intriguingly woven material in gasoline and throwing a match on the whole monstrosity: veil and all.
I know Sophie, my roommate and best friend, would be all for it. She'd probably provide marshmallows to roast at the fire. She never did like my fiancé - ex-fiancé - after all.
As if I summoned her, the door creaks open, letting in the light from the hallway, and I shut my eyes instinctively.
"Are you awake?" Sophie asks tentatively. It's an unusual approach from her. She's so commandeering of any space she enters that deferring to someone else's feelings doesn't come naturally to her. But this is my Sophie, and if I'm hurt, there's nothing she wouldn't do for me.
I'm just not sure I'm ready to acknowledge it yet. So, for a moment, I consider faking sleep. I've already explained my ex, Darren's, betrayal in enough details - excruciating details - earlier, and I don't think I could do it again.
Even so, I sit up slowly, blinking groggily against the light - lying so still in the darkness tricked my body into thinking this was rest, not mourning. "Yeah," I say, forcing a smile onto my face.
Sophie sits at the end of my bed, her onyx eyes watching me intently. There's a set to her mouth like she's trying to suppress something, though I see through her easily. She's pissed. Probably low-key murderous. If I hadn't restrained her earlier, she might have 'accidentally' run Darren down today.
She hands me a cup of coffee. It's mixed perfectly with the amount of sugar and cream I'm used to. That's how my mother taught me to drink it once upon a time to get me through long nights following my father around the state. I never grew out of the watered-down version, but I did develop a heavy caffeine addiction. I turn the mug in my hands, noting her choice of design. It's a cartoon drawing of Anna from Frozen, with her hands on her hips that optimistic-bordering-on-delusional smile on her face. But even the funny Disney mugs I collect obsessively can't lift my mood.
Looking her over, I notice that Sophie has changed. When I left this morning, before everything, and when I came home after in a post-breakup daze, she was wearing the same casual kind of loungewear she puts on every Sunday when I go off to church.
