Page 3 of Until the End

“Okay. Five minutes.”

Mom and Gia give me kisses on my cheek, careful not to mess with my updo. Gia catches my gaze, and for a second, I think I might cry.

God, I’m a mess.

I take a deep breath before smiling at my twin. We have a silent conversation, our close bond allowing us to read each other without speaking.

Are you okay?Gia asks.

Yes, I just need a second.

Call when you need me.

I will.

Gia squeezes my shoulder before leaving the room. Thesecond I’m alone, I lock the door to the suite and sneak out through the secret passageway I found early this morning. Perks of getting married in a scary castle, I guess. The silky material of my A-line dress swishes around my legs as I speed walk to the boys’ suite. I don’t even care if Wesley sees me before the ceremony. I need his logical thinking to get me over this emotional blip.

That’s all this is. I’m just being overly emotional. He’ll set me straight.

I get to the secret door to the groomsmen’s suite and slowly crack it open. I’d rather not accidentally walk in on the guys changing.

Except what I see has me freezing in place.

One of my bridesmaids, who I only recognize because of the dress, is bent over the side of a green velvet couch, bare ass in the air, while my fiancé stands behind her, thrusting into her so hard, the couch shakes.

I blink a couple of times, trying to figure out if I’m truly seeing Wesley in this compromising position.

“Fucking take it, whore.” He grunts. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

The woman’s moans could be the soundtrack to a cheesy porn video. Is she actually enjoying this, or is it fake? That’s not any kind of dirty talk I’d find attractive, but to each their own.

Wesley groans through his release, and it finally hits me. Myfiancéis having sex with someone else on our wedding day. I slap my hand over my mouth as my stomach revolts at the thought.

With my heart in my throat, I race back to the bridal suite.

What am I going to do?

This whole thing has been a charade from the very beginning, hasn’t it? You don’t suddenly decide to cheat on your fiancé the day you’re getting married. No, you do it waybefore then—and likely regularly—because you have no morals and don’t care about anyone but yourself.

Oh, god. I’m going to lose it. My breath saws out of my lungs in heaving pants. I claw at my chest as if that’s going to open my airway, but nothing helps.

I’m going to die.

I get cheated on and die on the same day. How dramatic of me. If he were still alive, Shakespeare could write a tragedy about my life. It would be a hit.

My knees give out, and I collapse, shoving my head between my legs to force myself to breathe at a regular rate.

Cecilia would have a fit if she saw me on the floor in my wedding dress.

Fuck, I’m still in my wedding dress. I reach behind me for the zipper, contorting my arms until pain shoots through my shoulder. I can’t get to the zipper. It’s right in between my shoulder blades.

A frustrated groan tears out of my throat, and I finally give in to the overwhelming amount of emotions pumping through me. Giant sobs rack my body as everything I’ve been pushing down comes out of my eyeballs.

If I’m honest with myself, I’ve been shoving my emotions back for much longer than the last week. Even before we announced our engagement, I hadn’t felt like myself, and it’s all bubbling out of me now. The train has left the station. The toothpaste is out of the tube.

I crawl across the floor to pull my phone out of my bag, then click the first name in my favorites list and listen to it ring out. I end the call as it goes to voicemail. I’m not surprised he doesn’t answer—he probably has the ringer turned off. But he’s the only person I need right now. The only one who won’t give me pitying looks or ask questions I can’t answer yet.

I type out a text to Gia while my tears continue to fall. She calls me, but there’s no way I can talk to her without herbarging into the room to comfort me. I don’t want comfort right now. I need action.

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