The Rebound - Stefanie London Page 0,7

white-knuckle her mug. “That overstuffed bag of donkey dicks.”

“I didn’t stick around to hear any more. I ran back to the waiting room, stripped out of my dress and got the hell out of there.” I cringe thinking about the whole thing.

“But how did you get back here? I mean, other than ‘commandeering’ my phone and keys, that is.” She shoots me a pointed look, almost as if she’s...proud.

I guess she would be. Drew is the wild one and I’ve always been the rule follower. The straight-A student. The boring, bland cereal to her sugar and spice.

“I found a guest I didn’t know, posed as you and asked him to drive me here.” I scrub a hand over my face. Of all the goddamn people, too... Mike’s stepbrother, Sebastian. His hated stepbrother.

The stepbrother I’d been hearing about for the entire year that Mike and I were together. The guy who’d been so vividly described that I assumed he must have a forked tongue and horns growing out of his head. And yet...now I know Mike’s words mean nothing. Sebastian had been my savior yesterday.

Sitting beside him in that car, I’d felt...safe. Like we’d formed a weird little bond over the strangeness of the event. Like we were companions in some messed-up escapade.

But I don’t have space in my head to think about that now. I have bigger fish to fry.

Thank God, most of my things are stashed in boxes in my mother’s garage. I’d been living between my childhood home and Mike’s apartment in Docklands until we could find a place of our own. Given the circumstance, I should be perfectly happy for him to burn anything of mine in his possession if it means not seeing him again.

But there’s one problem with that.

My grandmother’s watch is at his place. I’d decided against wearing it on my wedding day, because it didn’t really look right with the dress, but I wore it every other day of my life. It’s almost tattooed onto my skin and I feel lost without it.

I have to get it back.

But I need my strength first. I need time to decompress and get my head back on my shoulders. Figure out where I’m headed now that every plan I had for my future is like ashes blowing through my fingers.

“I’m going to save you all the corny lines about more fish in the sea and all that bullshit,” Drew says. “But I will say this—you’re better off without him.”

I nod. My eyes feel like they’re being jabbed with hot pokers, but I won’t cry. What if I hadn’t heard him and we’d gotten married, only to be blindsided a few years down the track? This is painful...but it’s the better of two shitty options.

“I know,” I say with a determined nod.

“It sucks, Pres. I know it sucks so freaking hard.” She puts her hand on my arm. “But it doesn’t matter what anyone says. Or what they think. You know you did the right thing getting out of there and now you’ve got another chance.”

“I don’t want another chance. Two strikes is enough.” My voice shakes with the intensity of my feelings, as though I’m repulsed by the idea of attempting love again. Maybe I am repulsed by it. “I am not doing this again. Ever.”

She bobs her head slowly in a way that tells me she’s taking my words with a grain of salt.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do now,” I say, sinking back against the couch and throw cushions. “I have no plan.”

“Good!” Drew pats me in a way that somehow manages not to be condescending. “You’ve had a bloody plan about everything from the second you came out of the womb. Maybe some time without a plan is exactly what you need.”

“I can’t function without a plan.”

I’m that person who picks her outfits out a week at a time, hanging each one neatly in the order they’ll be worn. I carry a diary with me everywhere and my whole life is jotted down, with goals and milestones and daily tasks: drink eight glasses of water, read at least fifty pages of a book, do ten thousand steps. I track, assess, grade and achieve.

It’s what I’ve always done.

“Try it.” Drew leans back and sips her drink. “You’ve got thirty days before Abby comes back. I challenge you to go a whole month without a plan.”

“But—” I splutter. “What will I do?”

“Anything.” Drew says the word like it’s the easiest thing in the