Ashton slaps my hand. “Don’t change the channel. I want to see her cry and be all sad when he picks the other idiot.”
“You don’t want to watch the other girl be happy?”
“Are you crazy? This is better than watching someone get blown up!” Ashton sits up, animated and excited. “She’s going to be all ‘I thought what we had was real.’ We can change it after the first girl gets dumped.” She looks down at the phone and her jaw falls slack. “Neil’s still texting you?”
“If so many people didn’t have my number for work purposes, I’d change it.” I groan and grab the phone.
For two weeks after he chose another woman, I didn’t hear a word from him. Then I started getting periodic text messages. Initially I thought he was concerned, considering he broke my heart and ran over it a few times with an eighteen-wheeler. However, I figured out pretty quickly that he wanted something. His texts were usually about issues with cancelling wedding vendors. But lately, his texting has become more frequent and has focused on us exchanging belongings.
Neiclass="underline" I have a few things I found of yours. Also, I think I left some stuff at your place.
I’m sure he did, but a few weeks after I found him and Piper together, I burned it. I took everything and anything I could find of his and set it on fire.
At first, I wanted to hold on to anything that was his. Even with how our breakup happened, I loved him. A part of me hoped we could reconnect, find a way to get past everything and move forward. But he never called. I held on to the false ideas of what our life was like—how we loved once and how wonderful he had been. All of those memories I latched on to so tight, hoping if I squeezed hard enough, they’d be enough. But they weren’t.
“You know none of this is your fault, right? He did all of this,” Ashton says while snatching the ice cream from my grasp.
“I know, I know. I want to stop thinking about him and move on, but he was my life for five years. I hate him so much, but then there’s this small piece of me that won’t let go.”
The worst part was when I was depressed. I was barely eating, forgetting things all the time, and the tears were pretty much constant. Days were lost like that. Work was the only place I could function, the only place that wasn’t tainted by memories of Neil and Piper. I could be me there, or at least some semi-normal version of me.
Now I’m in the anger stage, which is working out just fine. Every time I’ve had to explain why I cancelled the wedding, I’ve relived what he did. It’s been humiliating. I’d rather deal with a hundred rabid reporters than call my family to explain how my fiancé cheated and then broke up with me because he needed “more.” I remember the way he was so callous, so emotionless. The Neil I fell in love with wasn’t the same person at the end.
The memory floods back, barreling through my anger, which quickly morphs into sadness as I recall the pain. A tear forms, but I swipe it away before it can descend. Crying is for the weak, and I will not let him break me again.
Ashton smiles and places her hand on mine. “I’m sure there’s a part of you that will always love him. But I’ll help you hold on to the hate because that’s the only emotion that douchebag is worthy of.” Her blue eyes are blazing.
“I know, Ash. I’m …” I try to find the right words. The bottom line is I’m not really sure what I am anymore. At first I worked so hard to hide it all, putting it aside so I could continue on with my life, not wanting anyone to see how badly it hurt. No one wants to be the girl that was stood up at the altar—even though we never made it there, the context is the same.
Her jaw sets and she narrows her eyes, trying to ensure that I’m listening as she says, “I say the prick did you a favor. Guys like him are never content. He would’ve done it sooner or later.”
“I’m tired. All I want is to enjoy our weekend and not think about him anymore.” I sigh and lay my head in Ashton’s lap. “It’ll get easier, won’t it?” I ask with a touch of hope.
She stares back and shakes her head. “It’s already easier. One day you won’t be sad or angry, you’ll only feel pity for him.”
“I’d like that day to be now. And I’d like him to stop texting me.” I half laugh.
Ashton swipes the hair off my face with a sad smile. “Do you remember in high school when I swore I was going to marry Stephen? I thought he was perfect. I mean he was the captain of the football team, smart, funny, fucked like an animal.” Her arched brow rises with amusement.
I laugh. “Yes, I remember Stephen the Stallion.”
I used to laugh so hard when she would call him that. She thought she’d marry him based solely on his ability to do things to her she never knew were actually possible. He doted on her, but we later found out he had a few other girls who were also receiving the benefits of his talents.
“What I wouldn’t give for another ride on that pony.” She reminisces, laughing as she returns her attention to me. “I digress. My point is he was the one who lost out. I didn’t cry. I punched him in the face, walked away, and found myself a better horse to ride.”
“I didn’t want another horse, Ash. I thought I’d finally found my white knight,” I say as a flash of loneliness stabs through my heart.
Ashton isn’t the wallowing type. She breaks up, moves on, and finds greener pastures. I’ve seen her go through her share of breakups, but she always bounces back quickly. Thing is, she doesn’t know what it’s like to get engaged, plan a wedding, and think you’re going to spend your life with someone only to have it all taken away from you.
“Well your horse wound up being a donkey. Time to put his ass where it belongs—outside.”
She’s crazy, but I love her. I smile, shaking my head at another one of her off-the-wall retorts. “You and your metaphors.”
“Okay, enough of this. Tonight’s Gretchen’s birthday. We need to get ready,” Ashton says and slaps my ass. “We have dinner plans in the city.”
“Crap!” I say, sitting up quickly. I haven’t seen Gretchen since my engagement party. She, Ashton, and I grew up together. We’ve been friends since we were eight. Gretchen lives in Manhattan and even though Ash and I work in the city, we live in New Jersey, so we barely see her.
“You better not try to back out.” She glares indignantly.
I raise my hands in mock surrender. “I’m not. I forgot. I’ll go get ready.”
“That’s my biffle!” She jumps up off the couch with a gleam in her blue eyes.
“Don’t call me that around Gretchen. You know how she feels about it since ‘she’s our best friend for life too,’” I say, imitating Gretchen’s sweet voice. She gets a little touchy when she feels we’re not including her.
Ashton grins. “She’ll be fine. I’ll call her now and let her know we’re taking a train in. Go! Move it, sister!” She grabs my hand, pulls me up, and pushes me toward my room. “We don’t have time for your shenanigans. Now go take a shower. You smell!”
“You’re a real bitch and I hate you,” I lie.
“Well, I love your smelly ass.” She giggles and runs off.
“I do not smell!” I say to her back. Then I head into my room to start getting ready.
An hour later, Ashton busts through my door looking breathtaking. She’s wearing her long hair pin straight, the fiery red strands compliment the emerald top she has on. Her black eyeliner makes her blue eyes look bolder, bring out the cobalt in the depths of her irises.
I’m wearing my dark blue dress paired with my four-inch silver stilettos. At least I’ll get an extra few inches on my five-foot-four, vertically challenged self. Ashton and Gretchen were both graced with being tall and slender, so I always feel tiny around them. My makeup is minimal, but I spent extra time curling my long brown hair into loose curls, which tumble down my back.