Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
“Sabrina?” She’s the last person I expected to run into tonight—especially like this.
“That’s me,” she says dryly. Too dryly. She laughs, but it sounds forced. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Sure is.” Running into this woman on her wedding day is a wild card. Call it a gut feeling—or that forced laugh—but I’m not sure the groom is around.
“How’s Luna? What’s she up to since I saw you all the other day? Are you having a fun little family getaway?” she asks, but her voice is full of manufactured cheer.
I shake my head. “Nope. The kids are with my mom and her husband.” I catch myself before I ask, And you? Read the room and all.
But with hope that honestly shames me, I dip my gaze to her left hand. That massive rock that’s been mocking me since I met her still shines brightly, but her smile does not. Maybe she hasn’t removed the ring yet, but I’ve got a sense the bling’s on a goodbye tour.
That’s not something I should celebrate. But whether her single status is self-induced or not, I offer what I can. “Let me buy you a drink.”
She sighs with the weight of the world in that one breath. “I guess it’s obvious I need it.”
I don’t say, Yeah, it seems like your wedding day went sideways, or, What the hell happened? She’ll tell me when she’s ready. “You are in a bar, so I figured you might want one—context clues and all.”
She gives me the smallest smile. Glancing at her skirt, she gathers some material in her hands, then flicks it dismissively. “I was heading for the local rink, but it was closed. So yeah, it’s a tequila kind of day now.”
Her vibe is more of a jilted bride than a runaway one, but I’ve seen enough movies to know the two usually go hand in hand.
I raise a hand to flag down Ike again, but before I can say a shot of your best tequila, Sabrina interjects. “I’m going to need a double.” Her voice is steady, though her expression, somewhere between dazed and exhausted, hints that she’s already been floored.
I turn to her, skeptical. “Are you sure?”
The glare she shoots me could freeze the sun. I haven’t seen anything that potent since Luna caught Parker eating the last slice of pizza. “I’m wearing mismatched shoes the Lyft driver gave me, I’ve been disowned by my family, and when I called out the guy I caught scheduling a blow job from the maid of honor an hour before we’re supposed to say ‘I do,’ he tried to convince me that I was actually trying to frame him as a cheater.”
I swallow my shock as she barrels on about the next level shitshow that had become her day.
“The only thing that went right today? On the ride up here from the wedding venue, I called my cat-sitter, and she agreed to take Furby, the rescue kitten I was fostering, to her place. At least Furby will be away from Chad.” She stops for a breath. There’s nothing funny about this but…of course his name is Chad. “But what if he took Furby?”
“Then we’ll have to kill Chad.” I grin, and to my surprise, so does she.
“Thank you. You get me.” She blows out a breath. “Anyway, she picked up Furby and now I’m thinking of renaming my ex ‘Fuck Chad.’ What do you think?”
I’m thinking, How is it possible to be more attracted to her now than I was before?
Instead of voicing that thought, I turn to the man behind the bar. “I’ll take two double shots of tequila, Ike.”
He smirks. “Coming right up.”
As he heads to the shelf of bottles, Sabrina shoots me a curious, but worried, look. “Am I ruining your night? Is there a date about to join you? Because I can leave—”
I cut that notion off at the knees. There is no place on Earth I need to be besides right here, right now. “I’m alone. We’re all good.”
“Me too,” she says, then winces. “Obviously.”
In the pause while the bartender pours, Sabrina rolls her lips together as if fighting off emotions. When she sighs, her shoulders sag a little.
“Do you want to talk about what happened?” I ask, both gentle and straightforward. Her day has been the worst—no question. And my goal has become to help her survive this terrible night. “Or do you want to watch the game and debate the awfulness of the umpires?”
Her lips, wiped free of lipstick, twitch in a weak smile. “Tempting. I have a lot to say about the state of officiating. But I’m starving.”
“I hear the burgers are good. Interested?”
I’m interested in erasing the memory of Chad from her mind. I have been for a long time and haven’t done a damn thing about it. Now, she’s in a vulnerable spot and the last thing she needs is some asshole trying to make a move. Even if every nerve in my body is screaming that I want to.