“That would be fun, but we might get the fire department called on us,” she scoffed. “Because these bouquets could fill up at least three of those cans.”
“I don’t mind a group of hot firemen. Sounds like a badass idea to me.” Jenny winked and sat down next to her, then grabbed a pillow and wrapped her arms around it. “What’s your plan, Bee?”
Blythe paused. “My uncle called today. When I told him what happened, he invited me back to Silo Springs for a while. I’m going to take him up on it. I haven’t seen my family there inyears, and I need to let the dust settle.” She pointed to the ring box she’d placed on the coffee table the night Max brought her home. “Especially after I drop this god awful ring at the office tomorrow.”
“Holy shit, are you just going to hand it to him and walk out?” Jenny leaned in, like she was ready to eat up all the drama.
“No, I’m going to go early, before anyone shows up. I know when Max usually gets there, and I want to be gone before he does.”
“Wow, girl, this is totally givingRunaway Bride…” Jenny clapped her hands and giggled. “How can I help? Like, how long are you going to be gone? Do I need to get another roommate?”
“You totally could.” Blythe laughed a little. “I honestly don’t know when I’ll be back. Maybe the end of the summer? But, I mean, I’m not going to be working for Max anymore, so I won’t have a job here—and my parents don’t care one way or another what I am doing or where I live. I could just stay in Montana. I’ve always loved it out there, and who knows? Maybe a fresh start is the ticket.”
“Awe…” Jenny poked out her lip. “I’ll miss you. If you stay, I’ll have to eventually hop a plane. You know I won’t be able to survive on phone calls and FaceTime alone. But I want you to be happy, and if skipping town and running away from that asshole is what you need to do, then I support you.”
Thank heaven for Jenny. She was Blythe’s ride or die friend, and she was going to need her help packing and getting things ready to go.
RIGHT NOW
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she white-knuckled the steering wheel of her vintage, 1972 Oldsmobile. She couldn’t stop the never ending list ofwhat ifspounding in her brain. She wasn’t sad, she was pissed. The man she thought was her dream come true turned out to be a nightmare from hell, and that nightmare’s name was Maxwell Harrison.
Maxwell Harrison was a high rolling real estate agent with his own brokerage. He’d very quickly become a self-made millionaire at the ripe old age of twenty-five.Harrison Premier Brokers.She made a face as she remembered the day Max took her to see the place he so affectionately referred to as hisbaby. She blew out a chestful of air. The irony was disgusting to her.
Yeah, she was twenty-years-old, and maybe she was naive. But she was a hopeless romantic at heart, and Max had metaphorically come riding in on his white horse, swept her off her feet, and told her he loved her on the second date.She remembered the scene like it was yesterday and cringed knowing now that it was all an act.
How was she supposed to know that wasn’t reality? Soulmates existed, right? Knights in shining armor? Love at first sight?
They’d sat there on the hood of his fancy car, staring out over the city lights—his arms wrapped around her when he proposed. The ring he’d slid on her finger when she saidyeswas the biggest diamond she’d ever seen. A solid four-carat solitaire with a white gold band holding it up. The wedding set she’d later picked out to go with it only made the ring look like it belonged to Queen Elizabeth herself.
Max was the image of perfection. Tall, handsome, established, and connected to all the right people. Just the type of man her parents would approve of. Too bad they’d never gone out of their way to meet him. They would’ve finally had the son they’d always wanted and could be proud of.
The intrusive thoughts played like a movie in her mind. What if she’d married him? It would’ve ruined her life. Then what? Divorce? Or worse—a life of misery and unhappiness, strapped to a man who controlled her every move and treated her like trash in the process.
Prior to ditching his stupid ass, she worked for Max in reception. Answering phones and bringing him contracts and coffee. He’d told her before she started that the first thing he wanted everyone to see when they walked through his door was the face of an angel. His thumb had caressed her bottom lip when he’d said it. After they'd become engaged, and before her first day of work, he’d made an appointment with his favorite designer in town to have her fitted for work attire.
She’d walked out of the high-end storefront with a rack of black dresses. They were form fitting, knee length, with plunging necklines—all of which made her extremely uncomfortable.
Once, he’d called her back to his office and made her sit on the edge of his desk while he worked. She could still feel his hand slowly climbing up her leg and under the hem of her dress. She didn’t let his hand wander any higher than that, and it made him salty.
She should’ve known then that Max didn’t want a wife. He wanted a trophy—someone to look at and touch whenever he wanted. He would've made sure that she never gained a pound or had a single stretch mark on her. No commitments other than to the man she belonged to.
She remembered the day she met him.
She’d been waitressing at theLa Grande Boucherie,one of the most expensive steakhouses in Chicago. She'd put in an application after high school on a whim, not believing for one second that she’d get an interview. But when she had, her parents were enraged. They’d always given her anything and everything she wanted, but now she was wrecking every carefully laid plan they’d ever made for her.
Her mother had set her up with tutors in academics, and private lessons from skilled instructors in music and literature. At one point, her mother tried to turn her into a prima ballerina, but then her dream of a Juilliard daughter went down the drain. Blythe refused to get on pointe shoes the day she turned twelve. Those stupid things were painful, so she made a promise to work harder on her piano skill set instead. Though, it never got strong enough to qualify for such a school.
“You were accepted into the University of Chicago! I can’t believe I raised a daughter and gave her literally everything, just to see her throw it all away and become a waitress after graduation!”
Her mother had stormed off, and her dad stopped all funds flowing into her bank account.
She didn’t care.
Her father was the owner of an Inc 5000 tech company, and her mother was the CEO of spending his money. It was hard to believe that her mom shared even a drop of DNA with her Uncle Chris. Her mom and her uncle weren’t close, and her dad never wanted to dirty his white collar by associating with him. They did, however, love to pawn her off with Chris for a few weeks every summer—so they could jet off somewhere exotic without her. Thank heaven for that. It was the one adventurous thing she had to look forward to as a little girl.
The restaurant had asked for a photo during the application process, and when she'd arrived for the interview, the upper management didn’t even ask questions before they told her she was hired.
“You’ve got the look. We like to make sure our girls are top tier body type and face. The men who come in here don’t spend as much or tip as well when there’s an ugly waitress.”
