Page 28 of An Inevitable Marriage
I’d been adamant about that when Natalie had asked me to stay with them. I might not have been as heartbroken over the Anthony thing as I should have been, but I sure as hell wasn’t in the mood to hear my bestie and her husband go at it every damn night.
Never mind the moans and Spanish curses; who the hell had the energy and desire to screw every single day? Once, maybe twice a week, was plenty enough.
Or at least it was for Anthony.
No, it wasn’t.The bitter thought spilled into my mind as I grabbed the red tube to redo the gloss I’d just licked off.That’s why he paid not one but two women to satisfy him.
I had the brush poised against my bottom lip when Natalie gripped my shoulders and, forcefully, for her at least, spun me to face her.
“Geez, Nat.”
Thank goodness I had the good sense to rip my hand away; otherwise, I would have said myI-do’swith a red streak running down my chin.
My I-do’s. Gosh, it felt so weird to be this blasé over my wedding day. But then again, did it even count as a wedding day if it was only going to be a marriage on paper?
“Why won’t you let me help you?” Nat cried again, her voice cracking a little at the end. “You’ve been there for me through almost every horrible thing that has happened in my life, and yet you won’t allow me to do the same.” Tears filled her eyes. “It’s not right.”
I wasn’t sure if it was her pregnancy hormones that had her this close to the edge or if she was genuinely hurt over me not wanting their money. Probably both.
As silly as it may have sounded,Iwanted to be the one to help my parents. It was not just me; I knew my sister, Cece, was probably taking on a second job, on top of finishing her final year at college, to pitch in as well.
That was why I wanted the money to come from me.
It felt like such a cop-out to ask my friends for financial help while my sister worked her butt off.
“Oh, sweetie, don’t cry. I appreciate you wanting to help, honestly. But I need to do this my way.” Taking her hands, I squeezed her fingers. “Please.”
Natalie sniffled and wrinkled her nose. “Fine. But I’m not happy about it.”
“Oh.” I laughed. “I know you aren’t.”
With one hand still wrapped around Natalie’s, I used the other to rummage through my toiletry bag. Once I found what I wanted, I withdrew a few tissues and handed them to my friend.
Another slight sniffle sounded and Natalie quickly dabbed beneath her eyes and wiped under her nose.
“Better?” I asked, fidgeting with the top of my dress.
She nodded, but the instant her gaze locked on to my fingers, she tossed the tissue aside and smacked my hand away.
“Ow!”
Ignoring me, she smoothed her hand down the lace I’d just tried to tug toward my chin.
“Stop yanking on it,” she complained. “It’s perfect.”
This time, I fully understood where her annoyance came from. My deep-purple dress—a form-hugging lacy top with capped sleeves and a flowy skirt that hit my shins—was one of her designs.
And as stunning as it was, I wasn’t entirely comfortable with my cleavage being on display like this. But since it had taken Natalie years to finally design freely, I felt too bad to say no.
Especially since she’d designed it specifically for me.
Once the dress was in place again, Natalie combed her fingers through my waves. “Gorgeous.” And just like that, her eyes turned glassy again. “I can’t believe you’re getting married.”
“It’s not a real—”
“At least he’s a nice enough guy.”
Again, I wanted to remind her none of this was real but then her words finally registered.
