Page 37 of How to Ruin Your Ex's Wedding
“Yes, I’m sure it does.”
“You tell ’em, Tabs.” Matthew bumps my shoulder with his.
Tabs?
How ironic. The only other person in the world to call me that annoys me just as much as Matthew does. If not more. What are the chances?
I scoff.
Wait.
Whatarethe chances?
Of the thousands of people I’ve met in my life, only one person before this has ever called me Tabs. And they both happen to be photographers.
I look at him closely.
There’s no way.
The profile is similar if not the same. The hair is all wrong. But he’s the same height, weight, and build. Pax would never have that mustache. Unless it’s fake.
Oh.
My.
God.
I’m going to be sick.
“Hunter, I’ll be right back,” I call. “I need Matthew to grab a photo of something outside.”
I grab Pax-Matthew’s sleeve and drag him toward the exit.
10
Pax
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Tabatha’s face reddens to an unnatural shade I’ve not seen before. Her tiny fingers pinch at my arm as she tugs me in the direction of the exit.
Ouch!
“Well, this here is a camera.” I stop, holding it up to show her, pissed about her pinching my arm. “And I use it to take pictures. I know you don’t like the candids, but Mr. Simpcox was real specific—”
“Oh, cut the shit, I know who you are,” she fumes.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I hedge.
Her gaze cuts through me. We make it outside and she turns once the doors close.
“I know it’s you, Pax.” She stomps her foot, making her breasts bounce. It takes every modicum of strength I possess not to look. I may hate the woman, but that doesn’t mean I hate her breasts.
“I’m not sure about this whole Pax person, but my name is—”
She reaches up and grabs the corner edge of my fake mustache, pulling down sharply and taking skin along with the piece.
“Ouch, what the fuck, Tabs?” I touch my fingers to my upper lip and pull them away seeing blood on the tips.
“I knew it!” she yells. “Oh my god. You are unbelievable. What are you doing here?”
