The Wedding Pact Box Set - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,351

shouted through her tears. “Go!”

He laughed, a harsh bitter sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “Men will only be interested in one thing, Elizabeth. Your body.” He touched her cheek and slid it down her neck.

She slapped his hand away with enough force to push it off her.

He released a peal of laughter. “Ah, you got some fight in you, girl. That comes from me. That’ll serve you well. But you got things from both of us.”

“Get the hell out of my house!”

He ignored her, leaning so close she could smell his rotten breath. “Your mother and I, we’re both fucking messes, and guess what, girlie? You got our genes. So let me give you a heads-up no one ever gave Gabby: No man will ever really love you. They’ll want your body and your looks and they’ll lie through their teeth to get you. But when they’ve used you up, they’ll move on. That’s what I did with your mother and every woman ever since. And your mother, she’s the same.”

Libby shook her head. “No.”

“She ain’t been with one man longer than a few months, am I right?”

She gripped the beer bottle so tight it was slippery in her hand.

“And don’t be thinking you can escape it. You’re just like her, from your face to your fiery temper. The sooner you accept that you’ll never keep a man, the less heartache you’ll have.” He stood up straight. “So there you go, Elizabeth. My legacy for you. Get used to a lonely fucking life.” He backed up into the living room and kicked a chair, making it fall over backward. “Get used to being alone, because no one fucking wants you. Not me. Not your mother who planned to abort you. No one.”

Without a second thought, Libby swung the bottle into the side of his head, beer and glass spraying everywhere. “You’re lying! Someone will love me! Someone who deserves me, and that sure as hell isn’t you. Now get out of my house, you fucking loser!”

He stumbled backward, looking dazed. She pushed his chest as hard as she could and he lurched toward the door, blood streaming down the side of his face.

She opened the front door and shoved him onto the front porch. “If you ever come back here, I’ll kill you.”

She slammed the door shut and locked it, pressing her back against the wood and fighting the sob lodged in her throat. When she heard his car start and pull away, she slid to the floor, her tears bursting loose. After she’d cried herself hoarse, she decided she had a choice. She could let the asshole who’d contributed half her DNA steal her dreams, or she could give him a big fuck-you and believe in them more.

She chose her dreams.

She ran to her room and dug out his photo, which she set fire to in the kitchen sink. As his image burned, she burned any hope of a relationship with him with it. As far as she was concerned, he was dead.

Already a firm believer in magic and destiny and fairytale endings, she latched on to them even more. She was determined that every boy and then man she met was the one—the exception who would prove her father wrong. In high school, she wrote off the broken relationships to immaturity and youth, but it was the cross-country road trip with Barry, the surfer, that made her question her real destiny. By the time they hit New Mexico, it was clear that she was a short-term relationship for him. He would never take her home to meet his mother.

Had her father been right? Was she so screwed up no one could love her?

And until she met Mitch, a long string of one-night stands and month-long relationships seemed to support that idea. But then Megan’s wedding reminded her of the curse, and she was sure that was her destiny. That was why her soul mate hadn’t shown up yet. It just hadn’t been time. So she kept Mitch around to spur her own substitute groom.

And to her surprise, he turned out to be Noah.

Only she wasn’t sure why she’d been surprised. She was glad they’d started out as friends, otherwise she doubted she would have spent the time to get to know him so well. And she knew he loved her. She could see it in his eyes. But she had to keep in mind that he was still Noah. What if Blair was right? Staying