Page 174 of Bridesmaid for Hire
That’s when I reach for the other note. This one’s clearly from Maggie.
I quickly unfold it and read.
Brody,
You promised you wouldn’t hurt me. You swore it wouldn’t happen but as I write this to you, all I feel is shattered inside. I’m staying with Hardy tonight. Please don’t look for me. Please don’t reach out. Just leave me alone. This was a mistake, you andme. I never should have given in to these feelings. I should have known they would lead to nothing but heartache.
Respect my wishes and leave me be.
Maggie
I stare down at the letter, dumbfounded. She left? She doesn’t want me looking for her? What the hell did I do? How did I fuck this up so badly? I’m so fucking confused…
But then a little nugget of the letter catches my attention. She stayed with Hardy last night?
Where?
In his fucking bed?
I surge to my feet and without thinking, I start toward the door of the bungalow, ready to figure out what the fuck is going on—then I realize they’re probably all getting ready for the wedding right now. And despite the fact that my life is crumbling apart all around me, I at least have the wherewithal to realize charging into Haisley’s wedding and demanding answers is probably not the smartest idea. If I want to save a shred of my dignity from whatever happened last night, then I need to approach this calmly and rationally.
But fuck…she stayed with Hardy last night.
Why him?
Why didn’t she stay here and try to talk to me this morning? What did I do last night that was so bad that she couldn’t even do that?
“You promised you wouldn’t hurt me. You swore it wouldn’t happen but as I write this to you, all I feel is shattered inside. This was a mistake, you and me.”
I push my hand through my hair, wracking my brain for anything…fucking anything, but nothing comes to mind. Not even a snippet of the night that would lose me Maggie and my job in one night.
“Fuck,” I shout as I lean back on the bed. “Please remember something. Anything.”
I grip my head, wanting to slam it into remembering, confusion now turning into frustration.
Knock. Knock.
I look toward the door where the knock came from, and despite the nausea rolling in my stomach and the pounding in my skull, I spring to my feet and I open the door, praying it’s Maggie.
Unfortunately, it’s Jude.
Jude not looking at all ready for his wedding in a pair of swim trunks and a black T-shirt. Does he not remember what’s happening today?
“Oh…hey,” I say. “Uh, aren’t you getting married soon?”
He nods. “I am.”
I straighten up and attempt to push my erratic hair down. “Is there, uh…something I can help with?”
Dude, why are you here?
“No, but I need to talk to you,” he says, solemnly.
“Okay, sure,” I say as I open the door and he walks in.
“Fuck, it stinks in here,” he says and then moves toward the deck where he opens the door and steps outside.
Does it?
