Page 91 of How to Ruin Your Ex's Wedding
This isn’t gonna work.
Two fifteen p.m.
Reasons Tabs and I are a great match.
1. The sex is fucking fantastic.
2. We get along.
2. Compatibility
2. Sexual compatibility
2. We know each other (really know deep down, not just stupid shit like favorite song or color).
Two twenty-five p.m.
Reasons Tabs and I are a great match.
1. The sex is fucking fantastic.
2. We get along.
2. Compatibility
2. Sexual compatibility
2. We know each other (really know deep down, not just stupid shit like favorite song or color).
I’m stuck. This is the dumbest fucking idea I’ve ever had. She’s never going to agree to marry me and not Hunter. Hell, I can’t even convincemyselfthis is a good idea.
Reasons Tabs and I are a great match.
1. The sex is fucking fantastic.
2. We get along.
2. Compatibility
2. Sexual compatibility
2. We know each other (really know deep down, not just stupid shit like favorite song or color).
3. I love her and promise to spend the rest of my life bringing a smile to her face every day.
This is the best I can come up with. If this doesn’t do it, nothing will, and I was never getting her back anyway. Hopefully the ring will push her over the edge to my side.
Three ten p.m.
I start walking back to the ferry terminal. The ring is not in the safe deposit box. I have no fucking idea where it is. I try to play a game with my brain and think of another place it could possibly be with each step I take. By the time I reach the block where the terminal is, I’m still coming up empty. I’m sure I would have put it back in the box, and then put the box somewhere meaningful . . .
Fuck. My. Life.
I remember where it is.
I was upset when she gave it back to me. To say the least. I had saved a lot of money for that ring, to make sure it would make a statement in Hollywood. At least as big a statement as I could afford. I used part cash and then spread the rest across three credit cards. I hadn’t even finished paying it off when we divorced. So, one night after copious amounts of alcohol, I had the bright idea of putting it somewhere I would never want to unearth it from. I wrapped the ring in plastic and buried it in a pile of the neighbor’s dog’s poo. Then quadruple bagged the poo and stuck it in the back of my freezer. Which, at the time, was the most meaning I could give any representation of our prior union.
How could I forget about that?
