Clay's Unwanted Blondie

Chapter 65

๑⁠˙⁠❥⁠˙BROOKE ˙⁠❥⁠˙⁠๑

DOUCHY MEN left you hanging at the altar with a good ole 'it's not you, it's me' line while they were fucking your bridesmaid behind your back.

Clay Cervantes fell in the same caliber of douche but he put the D in the word so perfectly he might have needed his own tier of asshole to complete the badge.

He might have set a new world record if we were looking at this from someone else's perspective.

Getting dumped in a Disney themed park? Yeah that happened on the regular. Pretty sure forty percent of all proposals there ended with someone getting dumped.

Getting dumped twice by the same guy after you'd told him you loved him and you possibly couldn't live without him?

Now that was irony.

But the real kicker?

The real irony in this scenario?

It was her alright.

I mean what sort of idiot fell for the same guy twice? What sort of idiot had her heart broken, repaired and stomped all over by the same guy?

Her idiocy knew no bounds though.

Her idiocy was on a winning streak as she stared at the white plastic all warmer than the gas station washroom that screamed gonorrhea with a capital G.

Funny thing was she hadn't noticed how filthy this place was.

Hadn't noticed the chunk of someone's hair by her foot as she ran in here, sobs welling her throat, vomit trying to crawl it's way out of her mouth.

At first it was easier smiling.

Yeah smiling was better than facing the fact that her heart was stepped on, crushed into a million pieces that no amount of Gorilla glue could put her back together.

When the smile fest was over, then came the four stages of grief.

Regret.

Every moment, every second with him, every inch of her body wasted on that...that waste of space.

Then followed the sobbing. That sobbing where she covered her mouth lest some nosy woman stood by her stall and asked what was wrong or worse some hobo looking perv giving her advice on how life was shitty and crying wouldn't help in any way.

That sobbing where you covered your mouth to muffle in the sounds of weakness but your throat still managed to bob with bitterness.

There was the happy crying too. Laughing while crying, pretending it didn't hurt when it stung like stabbing your toe on a broken piece of wood.

God, it hurt.

Finally there was silence.

Silence as she read the two really bright red lines on that stick.

Well shit, she was pregnant.

Those fancy kits back at his stupid mansion were so faulty that a gas station's cheap pregnancy stick rivaled them.

She took the other stick and read it.

Pregnant with a smiley face.

Paged.

Knocked up.

Full with his kid.

All deja vu again.

How the universe had a comical way of running her life.

Just like three years ago, just like how he'd left, he had abandoned her.

Abandoned them.

A few minutes more inhaling choking air and being surrounded by grief had her ready to face the world.