Mads was ten weeks along with Satan’s Spawn number two. In truth, I loved Ronan, their son, more than I did most of my extended family members.
In his defense, her husband, Chase, worshipped Mads like she was the next coming of Jesus. He just was horrible to everyone else.
“Next time don’t marry a handsome, six-two billionaire. They’re impossible to resist.”
“Okay, next time I won’t.” I could practically hear my best friend’s eyes rolling. “Try to have a good time, all right? I know you’re allergic to weddings, but this one isn’t your own, so technically, you can still have some fun.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I knocked back the rest of my champagne as I sailed my way to the reception room. Most of the pink-wearing guests were already seated inside, an indication the ceremony was about to start. I casually passed the sign by the massive doors.
To the wedding of Cornelius Fergus Smith III and Kellianne Tracey McLean.
“Keep the EpiPen nearby,” my friend warned me.
Chapter Two
Layla
I slipped into a chair in the last row, smiling my hellos to a string of women who appeared to be my age, all wearing a different shade of pink. I was a firm believer of not yucking anyone’s yum, but I just didn’t see how making everyone look like a vagina added to the ambiance of a wedding.
“Hi, I’m Layla.” I waved to the woman closest to me. She turned around and gave me a small, unsure smile.
“I’m Tara.”
Tara’s eyes were pink-rimmed. Her face was pale with exhaustion. I wanted to ask her what was wrong, before reminding myself it was none of my business. I trained my eyes on my phone instead, thumbing through fuckboys on a dating app.
God, I hated being single. Too bad I hated the possibility of being taken even more. I was working on it with a therapist, though.The possibility of being a part of two,Dr. Lopez called it. She said I’d been making progress. And still ...
“Ohmigod, there’s Connor.” Tara, beside me, pointed at the altar. “He wore a pink bow tie.”
“It suits him so well.” The woman from Tara’s other side sighed dreamingly.
I stole a quick glance up from my screen. The minute I saw him, my eyes froze.
So did my heart.
So did every single muscle in my body.
Panic. Terror. Pain.
Standing at the altar, wearing a crisp suit and a smug smile, was my own personal demise.
Cornelius was Connor.
And Connor wasmyConnor.
My ex-boyfriend.
My only serious relationship ever.
The man who’d ruined my life. The person who’d caused me to be in therapy to begin with.
The monster who smashed my heart into a trillion different pieces, most of them too tiny to ever glue back together.
The man who made me swear off love, and children, and everything in between.
I ran into the restroom, locked the door, and gripped the edges of the vanity as I stared at the mirror. My mouth was paper-dry, and a film of cold sweat covered my entire body.
Cornelius Fergus Smith III.
