propose?”, it feels as if someone shot me right in the chest.
There’s no story. Pierce treated us like some kind of fast-food wedding. I swear, eloping in Vegas would’ve been more thoughtful than what we had.
Rolling my eyes, I shake my head. “Let’s discuss that later with a bottle of wine.”
“No, tell us now,” Beacon insists.
Blaire, who knows the pathetic story about my modern un-fairy tale, intervenes, “So when do you think the rest of you will receive William’s letters?”
Apparently, William left letters for each one of his sons, one for Blaire, and even Sophia got one. Jerome Parrish will give them to everyone at his discretion. Today, Sophia, Blaire, Henry, and Hayes received theirs. The brothers just decided not to open them until all of them get theirs, which means that the sooner they get the letters, the sooner we might learn why William summoned us here—at least that’s what we hope.
“Being married or in a serious relationship isn’t the requisite,” Beacon points out the obvious and then looks at Pierce and me. “These two haven’t received their letters.”
I’m not sure why I answer, “Probably because Pierce is not with the right woman yet.” My voice sounds bitter and angry. “You know, the one who gets a proposal, a ring, and even a real wedding. Ours was just like a carnival ceremony where we fetched a license at the motor vehicle office and had his co-worker pronounce us husband and wife in the parking lot. Depressing, if you don’t count the tacos we ate right after. They were good.”
Beac laughs. I join, but there’s only pain inside me.
I’m just using him as a mask. Am I struggling to hold in the tears of sadness and anger? Yep.
It’s not the stupid ring, but the promises we never made. Everything goes back to: it was an illusion, and why the hell am I still here?
Move on, idiot.
I shouldn’t be upset about our wedding. It’s in the past, and I’m moving on. But am I moving on?
Well, in November, I’ll be going to the doctor to get knocked up by a turkey baster. My deadline was December, but I realized that I am not needed here.
Nyx was here a couple of weeks ago, and I admire her determination to keep going and leave her old life behind. When I asked myself why I couldn’t do that—pack and leave—the answer came immediately. I still love Pierce, and trying to fall out is complicated.
The worst part is that he’s changing. This new guy is infuriating but also so thoughtful, caring, and open.
While his brothers laugh at our terrible wedding and mock him for being so thoughtless, he looks slightly wrecked and takes the shots without dishing back.
“You’re so cheap you couldn’t win her a gumball machine ring?” Mills says and then looks at me. “So, the ceremony was at a DMV and the reception at a taqueria. Where was the honeymoon?”
“The laundromat,” Beacon answers, and I swear he’s almost choking with laughter, then pats Mills. “You know, after this, we can always say, I could’ve done worse. My older brother didn’t even propose.”
“Stop!” Pierce orders.
“Yes, I fucked up, and I won’t justify myself to you,” he grunts.
Mills is about to protest because he has one request, not cussing in front of Arden, but Pierce says, “I’ll stop saying ‘fuck’ when you don’t bring up shit that hurts my wife. You think mocking me right now is hilarious, but you’re also reminding Leyla that she got a fucking asshole who couldn’t bother to do things right. She gets to relive all the shit I pulled, and believe me, it wasn’t pretty.”
Pierce grabs my hand and pulls me out of the house. We don’t stop walking until we arrive at the new dock. It is on the other side of the property, and no one can hear us. We’re miles away from the house. By the time we’re by the edge I’m tired, and the kids are right beside us panting.
“Go drink water,” Pierce tells them. “Just don’t get in the lake, or you’ll spend the night in the barn.”
“What was that?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer. He just looks toward the house and shakes his head.
“I was…handling it,” I lie.
He takes a seat and pats the space next to him. When I join him, he takes my hand, squeezing it once. Carefully, he sets our interlaced hands on top of his thigh.
We remain quiet for a long time until he finally says, “I thought that if