Page 77 of You, Me, and Forever

“That’s not fair. Your parents are not the norm, Myles. In fact, I don’t know anyone who would remain married, knowing their spouse was having a long-term affair. That’s rare.”

“Well, your parents aren’t together. And your longtime boyfriend was unfaithful. So how can you even argue this?”

“Because I like the idea of people finding happiness. Myself included. And I’m not in the business that I’m in because I want to make money. I’m a wedding planner because I believe in love and marriage and happily ever after.” I pushed to my feet.

Why am I so angry now?

I carried the fondue to the kitchen and went to find my coat.

“What are you doing?” He was standing now.

“I’m going home. I don’t want to be here anymore.” I tugged the sleeves of my coat over my arms and zipped it.

“You’re fucking kidding me. I made the goddamn vision board. I’m sorry that I didn’t grow up wanting some fucked-up version of ‘You, me, and fucking forever.’ And because I don’t believe in some bullshit fairy tale, I’m the asshole?”

“No, you’re an asshole for just tearing apart my profession as a whole.” I stormed toward the door, and he followed. “And you’re an asshole for asking me to partner up with you when you don’t even believe in what I do for a living. I don’t have any desire to build a hotel, but I still support your passion for it. I would never say that it was bullshit.”

I didn’t have a car here, so I’d have to walk, which wasn’t a big deal, considering it was still light outside. But he followed me out the door anyway, cursing under his breath.

“Get in the damn car. I’ll give you a ride.”

“I’m walking.” I turned onto the sidewalk and headed toward my house. It was only a few blocks.

“You’re so fucking stubborn, Montana.”

“Well, add that to the list of things you don’t like about me,” I huffed.

“I liked the song. Don’t I get credit for that?”

“It’s not about credit, Myles. Everyone likes that song. It’s Zach freaking Bryan. But it’s what the song actually means to me that I care about. So no, you don’t get a trophy for liking the same music as me.”

“This is insane,” he called out from behind me, and I ignored him.

I continued walking to my house, and after I’d made my way up the porch steps and put the key in the door, I glanced over my shoulder to see him standing there at the end of the walkway.

He’d made sure I got home safe.

But I didn’t care right now.

I pushed my way inside and slammed the door.

As far as I was concerned, Myles St. James could kiss my ass.

Well, I might actually like that.

So he could kiss Clifford Wellhung’s ass instead.

Chapter TwentyMyles

I hadn’t spoken to Montana since she’d stormed out of my house last night.

And this was why I didn’t do relationships.

I’d pissed her off. Personally I thought she was being absolutely ridiculous.

So the fuck what if I don’t believe in happily ever after. I never claimed I did. This was not something that we agreed on, and now I was suddenly the bad guy for not believing what she believed?

Hell, she brings up the fact that this is a fling every goddamn day.

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