She giggles, planting kisses on his neck and murmuring something I can’t quite make out.
I white-knuckle the door, still trying to process what I just saw. I don’t even realize I’m crying until the tears are already spilling down my face.
As I sniffle, Ellie glances past Wes.
And our eyes meet.
Chapter 3
Maddy
Idon’t wait for Ellie’s reaction. I bolt out of the kitchen so hard and fast that I nearly trip over my own feet.
Fuck you, Wes. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.
I storm out into the parking lot and make it as far as the first row of cars before I hear him.
“Mads!” He calls out, as if using the nickname he gave me will smooth things over.
I keep walking, arms clamped tight, clutching my phone, which I fully intend to use to schedule an Uber. Or throw at his face. I don’t know which right now.
“Maddy, come on.” Wes’s shoes pound the pavement behind me, but it doesn’t feel like he’s trying all that hard to catch up to me. He’s always two beats behind.
Unless the thing he wants is standing in front of him with her panties around her ankles.
“Maddy, c’mon, wait up.”
I do not wait. But the parking lot ends in a little drop to a circular drive, and when I swing around the side of a planter, he’s already blocked my path. Apparently, he finally kicked it into high gear.
He reaches out and grabs my elbow. Not roughly, but enough to stop me. “Jesus, would you listen? It’s not what you think?—”
I jerk away from him, knowing that hand was onher. “Don’t touch me,” I choke out, my voice wobbling.
His eyes are glassy and bloodshot. “I—Maddy, listen. I got really wasted, okay? I didn’t even know where I was… I thought she was you?—”
“Save it.” I try to sidestep him but he gets in the way, his grip coming down on my wrist this time. The same hands that earlier today had squeezed my knee in the car, had patted my thigh, had told me everything was going to work out.
His touch makes me want to hurl. “Let go,” I demand.
He sighs, tilting his head. “Come on. It’s not like I planned it. You know I’d never hurt you. I just got horny. You know I get like that when I drink. You gotta believe me, Mads.”
My jaw drops at the pure audacity. “You were fucking her, Wes. On a table. At our friend’s wedding. What is there to explain?”
He makes a face, somewhere between regret and exasperation. “Yeah, okay… But… But you…fuck, you’ve been so weird lately. I was just trying to feel better.”
The sentence sits there, ridiculous and awful, in the air between us.
I feel every cell in my body go cold and then hot again, a cycle of humiliation and rage as the truth settles into my body. “Youcheated. With some girl whose name you probably don’t even remember. And you’re blaming me?”
“Hey,” he says, voice suddenly sharp. “Don’t get dramatic. I said I was sorry. And it’s not like you haven’t been checked out on me for months.” He sniffs, adjusting his shirt. “I mean, I know things aren’t perfect. But this—” He gestures at my face, at my tears, at all of me. “This isn’t helping. You gotta get over your damn sob fest all the time!”
I have an out-of-body moment where I imagine decking him. Like, really hauling off and slapping the taste out of his mouth.
But I have no desire to spend the night in jail.
“You actually think I should feel sorry for you?”
He frowns. “I think we could talk about it. When you’ve calmed down.” He glances back at the venue. “We shouldn’t make a scene, Mads. We don’t want to be the people who embarrass Lance and Elizabeth on their big day.”
