I’ve been in stressful situations before but not necessarily with family. God, it took me a week to recover from the short time I spent at home. Ha.
Now that I’ve had some time and this other shit happened, I’m able to put it into context. The wedding wasn’t as bad as I’m making it out to be. I mean, I met you, so that’s something good, right?
As for your future wedding plans, I think you’ve got the right idea. Although, if it were me, I’d probably go for some place like Giordano’s Pizza instead of The O.G. Man, I miss Chicago-style deep-dish pizza. Maybe we should have the rehearsal dinner at Giordano’s and the reception at The O.G. Compromise. That’s the key to wedded bliss—that’s what Ben’s always going on about anyway. I can see his point.
All right, I’m beat. I need to hit the sack.
Write soon,
Alec
* * *
What.The. Fuck.
ChapterTwenty-Five
Matilda
Chewing on my fingernail,I watch Kimmy read the letters. Both of them. At one point, it looked as though she was finished reading them, but then she straightened them up and read them again.
I did the same thing. After that, I picked up my phone and sent Kimmy a 9-1-1 text. That’s why we’re here at a neighborhood dive bar after midnight on a weeknight.
“Jeez, Kimmy. Are you done yet?”
She holds up a finger—the universal sign for shut your piehole.
After what seems like an hour, Kimmy straightens the letters, folds them in half, and gently places them back into the envelope. Next, she slides it across the table until it’s sitting in front of me.
“Well?”
“I need you to listen to me very carefully.”
“I will.”
“Don’t contradict what I’m about to say. Don’t argue, shake your head, or make any of your snorting sounds.”
Wow, she’s asking a lot.
“And under no circumstances are you to roll your eyes.”
“What the hell, Kimmy?”
“I mean it.” She takes a sip of her rum and Coke and places it down on the table. With her hand still wrapped around the glass, she spins it slowly.
Oh. My. God. I’m going to strangle her. Swear to you.
“Ready?”
No, I’m not ready. Let’s stare at each other for another twenty minutes. Ugh. “Yes! Spit it out.”
“He wants to marry you.”
And do you want to know what happens next? I snort, roll my eyes, then laugh. She didn’t say I couldn’t laugh, right?
“What’d I tell you, Mattie?”
“You can’t be serious.”
