Page 42 of Bridesmaid By Chance
“Trust me, I hate myself.” He shakes his head and takes a mouthful of his eggs. “It’s just so fucking cruel. Society takes these birds in, domesticates them, and then we’re like,nope, see ya, you fucking sky rats.”
“You need help.”
“That’s what Everly told me this morning when I was bitching to her about the damn emails. Maybe I just need to change my email. You know how people are too scared to quit the gym, so they change their credit card altogether? Maybe I’ll do that, change my email to stop getting those fucking sad bird emails.”
“He’ll find you,” I say. “JP will fucking find you.”
Hardy slowly nods and wipes his mouth with his napkin. “I know. I’m just fucked. Before you know it, you’re going to see me on the pier with JP, talking to the damn pigeons.”
“That’s one way to get Everly to break up with you.”
“You think she would? You don’t think she’d see it as the sensitive side of me?”
“Not a chance,” I answer and take a sip of my orange juice, something I know Sloane will tell me has a ton of sugar in it and will make my wrinkles deeper—which, is that even a thing? I make a mental note to look it up.
“So why aren’t you eating?” Hardy asks.
“I ate.”
He takes his fork and pushes at my half-eaten omelet. “I’m calling bullshit.”
“Just not hungry.”
“Also, calling bullshit. What’s going on with you?”
I guess there really isn’t a good time to tell your brother that you got married. That’s why I brought him here after all.
“Uh, I have something to tell you,” I say as I push my silverware to the side. His eyes follow my movements, specifically my hands, and I know the minute he sees my ring.
His mouth falls open and he slowly lifts his head. Pointing at the ring, he asks, “What the fuck is that?”
I clear my throat and shift on my seat. “Um, so I have something I have to?—”
He yanks my hand across the table and looks at the ring closely. He taps it a few times. “That’s fucking real. Dude, you know that’s real, right?”
“Yes, I know it’s real.”
“Is that like…one of those decorative rings? You know, that people wear for style?”
“Do you think I’m someone who would wear a ring for style?”
He swallows and shakes his head. “No…no, you’re not. But you’re also not someone to wear a ring for…other reasons.” He continues to stare at the ring and then he reaches for his phone. “I need to call Haisley.”
“No,” I yell, slapping his phone out of his hand, sending it to the ground and skittering toward the table next to us.
“What the fuck?” Hardy asks while an older gentleman picks up Hardy’s phone and hands it to him. We offer our apologies and then Hardy leans forward and whispers, “Why can’t I tell Haisley?”
“She can’t know.”
“Why not? You clearly got married. I think that’s something our sister should know.”
“She can’t, Hardy.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” I say and steady my breath. “Because I married her husband’s sister.”
The look of shock on Hardy’s face would be comical if I wasn’t so fucking terrified out of my skin from announcing those words.
