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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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I WAS GETTING married in two weeks.
I was getting married in two weeks and I was standing here watching my so-called fiance stick his dick in a woman that wasn't me.
An inhuman shriek crawled out of my throat and I grabbed the first thing I could get my hands on which happened to be one of Braden’s baseball caps—granted, it wouldn’t do much damage, but at least it was something—and threw it at his bare back. He was already turning to look at me over his shoulder, his hips still thrusting against the skank beneath him, when the cap hit him.
“What the hell?” He glared at me.
That was Braden for you, ever the gentlemen.
He held his hands up in a placating gesture. “Let’s talk about this, Sadie.”
“It’s not what—”
I slapped him across the cheek. My hand left behind a red imprint on his skin. His teeth snapped together and he glared down at me.
“Don’t you fucking
Braden, surprisingly, let me go. He took a step back and I swore his skin had paled a shade.
That’s right asshole, be afraid. Be very afraid.
I poked a finger into his chest—a chest I had once found to be a magnificent piece of masculine perfection.
“I can’t fucking believe you! After everything you’ve put me through you go and do this! Seriously?! What the fuck did I ever see in you?!” The words poured out of my mouth. I was beyond hurt and pissed off. This was the man I’d planned on spending the rest of my life with, the man I’d given up so many important things for, and here he was fucking another woman only weeks before our wedding.
It was comical really, the irony of it all, since he’d been convinced I was sleeping with my friend Ezra. I thought of all the ridiculous accusations Braden had lobbed my way, and I couldn’t help wondering if his own indiscretions led to his insecurity.
Hell, Braden had practically forced me to end my friendship with Ezra.
Why? Why had I been so blinded? When did I become this weak, sniveling excuse for a person that I let an asshole like him walk all over me? And
It was like I’d been brainwashed.
I tore at my hair, my breaths coming out in little gasps.
Anger at myself, at him, and at the bitch in my bed simmered dangerously in my veins. It wouldn’t take much for me to snap and lose my ever-loving mind.
“Sadie, let’s talk about this—”
“Should I get dressed?” The woman in our bed spoke up.
“Yes!” I screamed.
Her eyes widened and she slipped from the bed, looking around for her clothes.
With another scream I started for the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” Braden asked, trailing behind me.
He kept stopping to untangle his feet from the too-long sheet wrapped around his waist.
I wished he would trip and die.
“Sadie,” he started in again.
I opened one of the various drawers in the kitchen and pulled out a knife, waving it around like a crazy person.
He paled further.
“Sadie, put down the knife.”
“No!” I screamed. “I think I should cut your dick off so you can fuck yourself with it! Would that suffice?!”
Braden’s mouth fell slightly open.
He was afraid.
The asshole should be afraid for his life.
Or the life of his penis, which was really the most important thing to him.
“I’m calling 911!” I heard the woman shout from my bedroom.
“Go ahead, bitch!”
“Sadie, be reasonable,” Braden started.
I thrust the knife in his direction, flailing my arms about like I’d seen jousters do on TV. “Reasonable?! You want me to be reasonable?!”
“I’m a man, I have needs—”
“Oh for fuck’s sake!” I threw my hands up in the air. “Your
Everybody had tried to warn me that something wasn’t right.
But I’d been blinded by…love?
No, that wasn’t the right answer.
I think I’d been more blinded by my own need not to be
“Sadie.” He took a few steps forward.
“Stay away from me!” I jabbed the knife in his direction. I wasn’t
I wiped the back of my hand over my tear stained face.
Why the fuck was I crying over this loser? He didn’t deserve a single tear from me.
“Talk about what?” I spread my arms wide. “The fact that I’ve wasted the last two years of my life with you? Or the fact that if I hadn’t caught you in the act I would be your wife in two weeks.” I shook my head, laughing under my breath. I began to slow clap. “Thanks for saving me the nightmare of divorce court, asshole.”