“What’s going on?” I ask, blood pounding in my ears.
She pauses, almost as if she wants to soften the blow, but when she sees my face, she lets out a defeated sigh.
“Noia…”
“Spit it out.”
“Sean can’t find Eric,” she explains. “He’s not answering his phone and he’s not here at the church. No one has actually seen or talked to him since last night.”
My mom gasps, hand flying to her chest. “Iknewthat guy was no good. Iknewit. There was something twitchy in his eyes, always smiling like a politician.”
Fuck, I don’t even feel like crying. I’m just… stunned.
The silence in the room is so heavy, I can almost feel it in my bones.
“Maybe he got stuck in traffic?” I offer a little too brightly. “Or maybe his phone died. Maybe he’s trying to find a parking spot?”
Sasha shakes her head slowly. “Noia. He was supposed to be here an hour ago. Sean checked with the hotel. His car is gone.”
“I always said you should’ve stuck with that fireman with the motorcycle,” my mother grouses. “What was his name? Lucas?”
“Luca,” Sasha and I say together.
“He was crazy. He set my mailbox on fire after I broke up with him,” I mumble.
“Well, at least heshowed up,” my mom snaps.
Not trusting my legs to keep me upright, I sink back onto my chair.
“I don’t understand,” I whisper. “He told me he really wanted this. He helped choose the cake, said he couldn’t wait to see me walk down the aisle?—”
Sasha kneels in front of me and grabs my hands.
“Noia. Listen to me. This is not aboutyou.This is about him.” She stands up with a huff. “That asshole, douchebag, piece of shit, coward.”
My throat burns, but for some reason, I can’t bring myself to cry. I’m too numb and way too fucking pissed.
My mom hands me her champagne and I take it, draining the glass.
“I need to get out of this fucking dress,” I finally say.
“You want me to get the scissors?” Sasha asks, reaching forher purse.
“Yes,” I growl. “Then I want a fucking bonfire.”
Sasha’s mouth twitches and my mom nods.
I look at myself in the mirror one last time.
If there’s one thing Idoknow for sure? It’s that Ryder Blackwood would never do this shit to me.
TWO
noia
A weekafter being left at the altar, I realize my condo has become a mausoleum of empty wine bottles, fast food containers and unanswered questions.
Aside from the rain it’s pretty quiet.
