Page 8 of Jilted
Amy wanted to throw up. She cleared her throat.
“Oh, Amy,” Brett looked up and smiled, “this is Vanessa. Vanessa, this is Amy.”
Amy had known the moment she’d seen them at the table that the woman was Vanessa, but that still didn’t stop the hurt. Brett and Amy hadn’t seen each other in months, and the first time they did, he brought his fiancée here to meet Amy. Christ, a little warning would’ve been nice. Tears stung her eyes.
Vanessa stood and extended her hand to Amy. “It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you, Amy. Brett has told me so much about you.” Her voice was sickeningly sweet.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Amy said her voice thick with a myriad of emotions.
“Sit,” Brett said, nodding at Amy’s vacant chair. “I ordered a bottle of Dom Perignon.”
He bought Amy’s favorite champagne to celebrate his engagement to another woman? She wanted to scream and cry. Amy clenched her hands into fists, her nails biting into her palms. Summoning all her courage, she said, “Thanks, but I have to go.”
“What? You just got here,” Brett said, eyeing her suspiciously. “We haven’t seen in each other in months. I want you to celebrate with us.”
“I know, it’s just that, well, my sister called while I was in the bathroom, and I have to go. I’m sorry.” Amy clutched her purse to her side and rushed out of the restaurant.
As soon as she got to her car, tears spilled down her face. Brett was getting married. Six months. He’d been gone six months, and, in that time, his entire life had changed.
She hastily wiped at her tears, got in her car, and drove home. Once there, she kicked off her shoes and grabbed a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream from the freezer. Tearing the top open, she dug in and shoved two spoonfuls in her mouth.
“Ahh.” She grabbed her forehead. Ice cream headache. “Dammit,” she muttered, tossing her spoon in the sink and throwing the pint in the trash with a frustrated scream.
Amy grabbed the edge of the counter and hung her head. Her behavior tonight was rude and unacceptable. Brett was getting married – she should be happy for him, not sitting at home sulking. Honestly, what did she expect? That he would stay single for the next three years and marry her? She laughed. That was ridiculous. It was a drunken pact meant to make her feel better in the moment. It meant nothing. Deep down, she knew that.
But...she knew how things were going to go. For a while, things would be the same. She and Brett would still hang out every Thursday night like they always did; and on the weekends he would invite her to go out with him and Vanessa. Then things would change. Vanessa would get fed up with the amount of time Brett spent with Amy and demand he stop. And he would – for a few weeks or so. Eventually, Vanessa would give him an ultimatum: her or Amy. Brett would choose Amy. He always did.
Of course, he’d never been engaged before, either. And that terrified Amy. A girlfriend was one thing. A fiancée was another. There was no way Brett would choose Amy over the woman he planned to marry.
Amy drew a shaky breath as reality set in. This was it. Her friendship with Brett as she knew it was over.
She retrieved her purse from the floor where she’d tossed it and dug through it until she found her cell phone. Scrolling through her contacts, she stopped at her sister’s name and hit the call button. “Lucy? It’s me. I need you to come over.”
“Is everything all right?” Lucy asked.
“No.” Amy’s lips trembled. “Please, I need you to come over right now.”
“Okay, I’m on my way.”
Amy wiped tears from her face only to have them replaced with fresh ones. She fast forwarded the DVD to the last dance she and Brett ever danced competitively—a sexy, sultry Rhumba. She watched the way Brett led her around the dance floor, the way he held her and looked at her.
He was so confident, cocky. And sexy. Damn was he sexy. The way his shirt fell open, exposing his hard abs and incredible chest had distracted her so much that night. Everything about that night and that dance had enthralled her. In her mind, things had changed between them that night. Apparently, she’d been the only one who’d thought that.
“What’s wrong?” Lucy said, walking through the front door. “Dammit, Amy, what’s going on?” Lucy walked over, snatched the remote from Amy’s hand, and shut the TV off. “Okay, what’s going on?” she repeated, her tone firmer that time. “Why are you sitting there crying?”
Amy sniffled and looked up at her sister. “Sorry.”
Lucy sat on the couch next to Amy. “Sorry for what?”
“I just can’t believe he’s getting married,” Amy sobbed.
“Who’s getting married?” Lucy put her arm around Amy’s shoulders and hugged her.
“Brett.”
“Oh...oh wow, oh my God. Brett’s getting married? When did that happen?”
Amy shrugged. “He told me tonight. Apparently, he met her on the show or something. I don’t know. He told me. I freaked out and came home.”
