Page 11 of How to Ruin Your Ex's Wedding
“You did?” My stomach sours immediately. I can’t believe she would support my mom in such a way. I’m hurt. And pissed. “How—”
“Before you get all wound up”—she reaches her hand over the table to grab mine—“I didn’t buy it. I saw it in that Little Library Kiosk on State Street and grabbed it.”
I nod. That makes me feel a little better. I try to swallow down the acid already rising in my throat. The coffee makes it worse.
“Do you want a water?” I ask, standing and heading back up to the counter.
“Sure,” she calls after me.
I’ve calmed down by the time I return to the table. The acid is still there, churning in my stomach, but I feel better in my head.
“Don’t be mad, please.”
“I’m not mad. I was hurt at first. But you didn’t buy it or support her in any way like that. And if I’m honest, I can see where someone might be curious about it. I just wish there were more of the truth in it.”
“From what I know of you, most of it was real, just embellished a bit.”
“Most of it?”
“Well, some stuff was clearly made up. Like this one scene where she claimed you threw a temper tantrum and cut up something like fifty thousand dollars’ worth of wardrobe forTabby is so Gabbybecause craft services ran out of chocolate chip cookies.”
“That did happen,” I say drily.
“Really?” Her eyes grow big, but I can tell by the smirk on her face that she knew that and was just baiting me.
“You’re a bitch.” I smile.
“Takes one to know one.” She smiles back.
I check the time. “Sorry, I gotta go. I need to shower and change before Hunter picks me up.”
“Yes, your highness.” She smirks.
“Thanks for that,” I say. “I know, I need to tell him I don’t like the ‘my queen’nickname.” I stand, put on my jacket, then grab my phone and yoga mat.
“You know, most women would appreciate being called a queen.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not most women.”
It’s one thing to be worshiped, but it’s a whole other thing to be perceived as infallible, which I fear is where Hunter is heading with his ideas of perfection and royalty.
2
Pax
“Yes, baby, Yes. So good. Perfect.” I move to the side to get a better angle on her face. “Oh yeah, just like that. Do it again.”
God, she’s good.
Her head falls back and her chest thrusts out, her breasts on full display trying to squeeze out of the small top covering them. The sun is hitting us from the perfect position and the sand is damp, but not so wet it sticks. Waves are crashing along the shore in the background, the setup can’t get any better.
“That’s my girl,” I tell her. “Keep moving, just like that.”
She looks up at me from under her lashes, her blue eyes bore into mine, lips pursed, hands running through her hair, lifting it away from her face.
“There, right there. Oh, that’s good.”
She stays on her knees, legs parted, skin glistening, looking at me like she wants this. Bad.
