Page 84 of How to Ruin Your Ex's Wedding
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I’m still watching.
Like the pathetic fucking sap that I am.
I can see they are finally finishing with the speeches and I turn the audio back on. The speeches were boring as fuck to listen to. I’m on my second cigar and my third glass of scotch. Tabatha is on her fourth glass of champagne—yes, I’m counting—and openly flaunting it in front of Sippycup . . .
Nah, that one doesn’t work as well as the names with cock in them.
Sippycock? Eh. I think I used that one already.
Dippycock.
That works. I watch as she flaunts her fourth flute of champagne in front of Dippycock, walking around the large room mingling with the guests. And every so often, she catches Hunter’s eye and raises her glass to him with a big smile. To the outside observer, it looks sweet. But to the guy who knows her facial expressions and smiles—me—she’s on the war path. God love that girl.
The restaurant has been rearranged for the occasion, with a main table for ten in the middle, encircled by six-tops artfully arranged to ensure no one feels as though they have abadtable. There are flowers everywhere, along with a banner congratulating the happy couple. Combine that with all the monogrammed shit, and I’m surprised no one has busted out a slide show of how they met.
Liza announces dinner. It’s when they are moving to their seats that I see him grab her arm too hard to be nice, then pull her back to the side. He seizes the champagne flute from her hand forcibly, spilling it in the process. She yanks her arm from his grasp. If he hurts her, I will kill him.
I turn the audio up to see if I can hear anything.
Jackpot!
“Don’t you dare try to dictate my actions, Hunter. I won’t stand for it. I’m a grown woman, capable of making my own decisions. Maybe if you weren’t being such an ass, I wouldn’t feel the need to drink,” Tabby says.
“You don’t think you’ve embarrassed me enough already? Now you want to be known as the town drunk?”
“Drunk?” She laughs. It’s forced and fake. “Jesus, Hunter. Are you kidding me? I’m nowhere near drunk. And even if I were, it’s a party. Or didn’t you notice? It would do you some good to loosen up once in a while.”
“I don’t even know who you are anymore, Tabatha. It’s like you’re a different person—”
“It’s called growth, Hunter. It’s what people do as they move through life. They grow and progress. You should try it sometime.”
“You aren’t the same person I asked to marry me.”
“Actually, I am. I’m just letting you see more of me than I did before,” Tabatha says.
“Well, maybe I liked less of you better,” Hunter hisses.
Tabatha takes a step back, stunned.
I stand, wondering if I should go down there. Wanting to. Knowing I shouldn’t. Before I can decide, the door opens and Gregor steps in.
“You’re listening in?” He looks at me eyebrows raised.
“Yeah, but it’s not as bad as you think,” I say.
His expression remains the same.
“Fine, it is as bad. But they are fighting right now, and Hunter just told Tabatha that he likes less of her better.” I sit back down on the sofa with a bit of a flop.
“Less of her? My god, she’s so thin already.”
“No, like less of her personality. Less of her as a person.”
“Oh. Interesting. Okay, scoot over.”
Gregor joins me on the sofa I’ve pulled in front of the window, lights his own cigar, and then pours himself a few fingers of scotch.
