Page 5 of Three Reckless Words

Let’s be honest,Ibarely know what my hair needs. It’s a constant trial and error, because the second one product gives me smooth, sleek curls, my hair decides it’s ready to rewrite the rules.

And God, this morning, Mom insisted on doing my hair for me.

I think it was meant to be some sweet mother-daughter bonding thing on the worst day of my life. All she did was make my hair frizzy and stick a veil over it like that would solve all my problems.

This time, it’s not raw grief that makes my chest heave like a wolverine chewing through my vital organs.

It’s anger.

It’s knowing this entire crapfest could’ve been avoided if my family hadn’t believed I’d be better off with Holden Corban, the golden boy. The man who only wanted me so I could be a trophy wife accessory on his arm.

He didn’t court me.

Heworeme like one of his gaudy gold watches.

I don’t hate Holden for being what he is, but that’s not to say I like him.

I don’t think he likes me, either.

He pretended to care just enough because it’s what everyone around him expects from an arranged marriage. Also, the optics were great for his career.

I’m sure they’re looking pretty heinous right now.

I only step out of the shower once my fingers resemble red, wrinkled sausages and start toweling myself down, calmly and ritualistically.

Dry off, rub product through my hair, wrap it up, get dressed.

My clothes smell like me. They look like me, too.

Big white tee with a picture of Seattle on the front. Never been, but who cares when you’re buying discount t-shirts to sleep in? Add a pair of pajama shorts, and I feel like a new woman.

Even though I’m planning to sleep like the dead, I spray on thick perfume, hoping to keep the sensory distraction going.

My perfume, this time.

Not Mom’s designer stuff or the perfume Auntie Sarah ponied up for my wedding day so I could smellsophisticated.

I almost died choking.

No, this smells like me, and it helps me relax.

I’ve got this place to myself for three whole days. I’m determined to spend every second decompressing from life.

I’m on the verge of another broken smile when my ears start ringing.

A noise outside?

So much for relaxing.

My heart starts thudding.

Whatwasthat, anyway?

It sounded like a bang, a little like someone knocking something heavy over.

I’m suddenly horribly aware that I’m in the middle of nowhere. Alone and isolated with my misery.

Of course, I left my phone on the counter like a magnificent idiot.

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