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Love at First Sight : The Complete Series
Author: Poppy Parkes

 

The Oops Club

 

 

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With love and gratitude,

Poppy

 

 

Amelia

 

 

I should have known.

Now that I look back over the past few weeks, I can see signs of this coming.

He’d been acting squirrelly, not looking me square in the eyes, keeping our kisses quick and chaste, never quite touching me with the care that he used to.

I’d thought it was wedding jitters. Our family had begun trickling into Shotgun, our western Montana town, for our big day. That’d be enough to make any groom-to-be nervous.

But then he’d never showed up to the barn we’d rented for the ceremony and reception. The lofted space filled with friends and family and so many goddamned flowers that he better pay me back for my share of. The attendees grew more and more tense as time ticked by.

I waited in the cozy outbuilding made just for brides preparing to enjoy their special day, mind refusing to believe what my gut was telling me.

Randall, the man I thought was the one, the love of my life, the man who’d stand by me forever and always, had left me at the altar.

Well, not quite at the altar — I never got the chance to make it that far.

But I made it close enough.

Close enough for the betrayal to make me feel like my innards were being wrung out like wet laundry.

My bridesmaids — and best friends — were amazing. When the minutes had accumulated into an hour of frozen-hearted absence and the late afternoon turned to evening, they spun into action. Kate went to tell the wedding guests, and Hattie soon followed, stalking out of the outbuilding muttering promises of what she’d do if she ever got her hands on Randall. Emmy stayed by my side, murmuring words that I couldn’t quite comprehend but that sounded healing nonetheless.

I felt numb.

But now that the wedding guests have dispersed and my three friends and I are driving to the closest dive bar at my request, I feel lots of things.

Hurt. Confused. Betrayed.

But most of all, I feel like my insides are alight with anger.

How dare Randall do this to me? Sure, breaking up is hard to do. But turning me into a jilted bride? That’s got to be the very worst way to go.

Kate’s at the wheel, and Hattie is cycling through radio stations, trying to find the most thumping tunes so I can’t feel the breaking of my heart.

Next to me, Emmy slips her arm through mine. “What are you thinking about?” she asks.

I turn to face my friend, not sure if I hate or feel grateful for the empathy brimming in her hazel eyes. “I don’t understand.” I wince at how raspy my voice sounds. I haven’t cried, but I’d bet that I will before the night is over. Even though I don’t want to give Randall the satisfaction. Even though he doesn’t deserve a single salty drop of my tears. “Why didn’t he tell me? Why put me through the embarrassment of not showing up for our wedding?”

She shakes her head. “I wish I knew. It’s so awful.”

Hattie spins around in the front passenger seat. “He’s obviously not the guy we all thought he was.” Her pink lips pucker into a scowl. “The pansy-assed fucker.”

I can’t help but snort. “He really is a pansy-assed fucker.”

“It’s total shit, what he’s done to you today,” Hattie says. “But at least you know the kind of man he is now, and not a decade or two from now. Good riddance.”

“Good riddance,” Emmy nods. “But I don’t think that makes it hurt less.” She squeezes my forearm, and I lean into her touch.

Kate peers at me through the rearview mirror. “You sure that you want to go to Desperado’s tonight? We could have a sleepover at your place, or mine, or go get some food, or —“

I cut her off with a firm shake of my head. “I’m sure.” I pluck at the skirt of my wedding gown. “I want to get a chance to show off my dress.”

It’s not a traditional wedding gown. I hate white, so I’d opted for an elegant teal to complement my blue eyes and copper curls. Made of the smoothest silk charmeuse, it features spaghetti straps and a fitted bodice to show off my bust, with a flare beginning just below the hips, the hem falling to my mid-calf.

My friends’ dresses don’t look like typical bridesmaid attire either. Each one got to wear any dress of her choosing, provided that it was black.

No one will guess that I’m a jilted bride. Not from our dresses at least. There will be no pitying looks, no awkward comments. Thank goodness. The last thing I need is strangers asking questions that hurt too much to answer.

“Are you really sure though?” Kate asks again.

I don’t miss the glance that Kate and Hattie exchange. I know that they’re worried about me — and probably think that my choice of going to Desperado’s is a little off the wall.

I lean forward. “Hey,” I say, “I look good, feel like shit, and need to blow off some steam. I don’t want to be quiet. I want to make some noise. I want to have a little fun on what was supposed to be one of the best days of my life. I’m going with or without you. So are you in?”

Hattie grins at me. “Hell yes.”

“If that’s what you want, then yes,” Kate nods.

“It’s what I need.” I turn to Emmy. “You too?”

“Whatever you need. You know I’m with you.”

Now it’s my turn to squeeze her hand. “I know.”

Emmy wraps her arms around me as we ride the last few miles to Desperado’s. I rest my head against her shoulder, taking in my three friends.

We were roommates in college. Chance threw us together, but we’ve been inseparable ever since in spite of our differences — or maybe because of them. Kate’s always been the sensible one, surprising no one when she chose to go on to law school. Hattie’s the rebel, and an outdoor adventure leader. And sweet Emmy, she’s a therapist and our heartbeat.

As for me? I’m an elementary special education teacher. I rock at my job, but right now I’m tempted to let myself feel like the loser, the reject in all areas of my life.

But that would let Randall win. And I’ll be damned if I let that happen.

So I decide right then and there — I’m going to be the phoenix, rising again after the devouring fire that today turned into.

This might be an end, but it won’t be the end. I’ll come back stronger and smarter than before.

But first, I’m going to party like the fuming and furious would-have-been bride that I am.

 

 

Tatum

 

 

This is not exactly where I want to be. The wood-planked interior of Desperado’s is hot, packed with Saturday evening party folks. Everyone’s standing too close, talking too loud.

At least there’s some quality country music, played by a live band. I’m the foreman of a construction crew, but the bar scene isn’t for me — except for the dance floor. I can’t resist a good old country dance.

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