Page 4 of The Reason I Married Him
She offered no explanation, no reasoning why she fell out of love with me. She just did, and that was that. The wedding was called off, the food was donated to food banks, the wedding gifts were returned, and the flowers were given to local funeral homes for the recently deceased. It seemed fitting since my relationship was as dead as the people in the morgue.
I rinse the rest of my body, still feeling the stab I took to the heart that night. Why did she wait so long to tell me? Why couldn’t she have said no when I proposed? At least if she said no to that, I could have squashed the hopes I had of starting a family.
But nooooooo, she had to wait until the night before the wedding.
Thank God we hadn’t planned a honeymoon because she’d had a big coffee conference to attend. We were going to decide on something after that.
Good luck at your conference, Cadance. Your coffee tastes like burnt tires that ran through a pile of fresh manure.
I turn off the shower and whip open the curtain. I grab my dusty-rose towel and quickly dry myself before I move in front of the mirror, only to stare at myself again.
Sad.
Pathetic.
Defeated.
That’s all I see.
My penis is even sad. Look at it all drooped and depressed. I can’t remember the last time his spirits were lifted—if you know what I mean.Actually, I can. It was a week and a half beforethe wedding. Yup. She hadn’t loved me, but she’d loved my dick. Yay.
I drag my hand over my face.
The only good thing about any of this? I don’t have a book due for a while because I decided to spend a few months off enjoying married life.
Now those few months off will be spent on my best friend’s couch, where I’ll wallow in pain.
I finish getting dressed, brush my teeth, and don’t even bother with my hair before I walk out of the bathroom, smelling a whole lot better.
“Wow, you look like you scrubbed off a film of disgust.” Laurel leans in and tentatively sniffs. “Oh, lovely, you used my soap. Much better.”
“I was tempted to use your deodorant as well but opted for mine instead.”
“The small miracles are really pulling this day together,” she replies as I take a seat back on the couch.
“So . . .” She rocks on her heels. “You’re just going to go back to sitting there?”
“Do you want me to do something else?” I look up at her. “Do you want me to leave?”
She shakes her head. The box braids she just had done look incredible on her, and the deep violet adds nice dimension. “No, but I do have to talk to you about a few things and thought that a change of scenery might be nice, like the back patio.”
“Are you saying I need some fresh air?”
“Yes . . . yes, I am.”
I sigh heavily but follow my friend out to the patio where she has two glasses of lemonade set up as well as a plate of chocolate chip cookies.
“You spoil me,” I say as I take a seat and pop one whole cookie in my mouth.
Her eyes watch my puffed-out cheeks handle the large cookie before she takes a seat. “Maybe next time, eat it in bites.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” I say around a mouthful of cookie.
“The fun is in not choking.” She sips her lemonade. “Now, like I said, I want to talk to you about a few important things.”
“Okay,” I drag out. “Why does it seem like you’re about to deliver bad news?”
“Just listen.”
