sure, they’d all feel bad for poor Molly, but good Lord, she’d look like a fool who couldn’t hold her man. Not to mention, there would be some who’d say she had it coming, up and leaving a handsome young buck like Dusty Hicks behind.
She shampooed her ginger-colored hair and thought back to Christmas break. When she’d first gotten home, he’d come to see her, but every time Molly had tried to talk about her life in Philly or his in Hopeview, he’d silence her by kissing her, which had finally led to them having sex in the back of his car. As she thought back on it, yes, Dusty had been distant with her, canceling two dates and rushing through gifts with her family on Christmas Eve. When she asked where he needed to be, he said he needed to help set-up the church for the nine o’clock service, though it was strange to Molly at the time, because although she’d looked for him, she didn’t recall seeing him at the actual service.
Now it occurred to her…he was probably leaving her to go see Shana, which begged the question: Who was this man who used church as an excuse to get it on with his piece-on-the-side? She thought she knew Dusty Hicks as well as one human being could know another, but she was wrong. She didn’t know this cheating, lying piece of scum at all. And more hurt, angry tears ran down her cheeks to mix with the hot water still pouring from the shower head.
“You’ll need to get tested,” she whispered miserably, wringing out her hair and watching the water run clear. Because Dusty was her fiancé and Molly was on the pill, they’d never used any protection. And if Shana was pregnant, he certainly hadn’t been using condoms with her. She shook her head in disgust and fury.
Good Lord, what a disgusting excuse for a man.
Thankfully, the realization of Dusty’s epic selfishness had the counter-effect of staunching her tears for the first time since waking up, and her jaw was set in an angry line when she turned off the water and stepped from the shower.
Wrapping a towel around her small frame, she rubbed a circle in the steam on the mirror and finally looked at herself. Her cheeks were bright red due to the hot water, but so were her eyes. After whipping the medicine cabinet open, she took out a small plastic tube of Visine and tilted her head back, letting three or four drops fall into each eye. Screwing the top back on, she opened her eyes wide and watched as they cleared a little, one stray tear making its way down her nose to rest on her top lip. She snaked out her tongue and licked it.
“That’s the last tear I cry for you, Dusty Hicks. That’s a promise.”
Then, still heavy-hearted despite her bravado, Molly marched into her bedroom to throw on some clean underwear, grateful she still had several hours to psyche herself up for the very last place on earth she wanted to be: Daisy Edwards and Fitz English’s Valentine’s Day —ugh—wedding.
CHAPTER 2
Weston English took one last look around his apartment, feeling like he was forgetting something. Tuxedo? Check . Gift? Check . Keys? Check . Toast? He patted his breast pocket, but it was bare. He ran back to the desk in his bedroom and rifled through legal documents and various law books until he found the piece of paper he’d printed out late last night: his wedding toast to his brother, Fitz, and his fiancée, Daisy, who were getting married today. Weston and his three other unmarried brothers were all planning to say a few words.
More than a little bleary-eyed from studying until three o’clock in the morning, he shook his head and grabbed his half-finished coffee cup off the dining room table as he passed. He downed the remaining dregs in a gulp and placed the cup back on the table, reminding himself that after he passed the bar in two weeks he wouldn’t need to keep burning the midnight oil studying. Checking his watch, he realized he still had forty-five minutes before he had to pick up Constance Atwell,
She shampooed her ginger-colored hair and thought back to Christmas break. When she’d first gotten home, he’d come to see her, but every time Molly had tried to talk about her life in Philly or his in Hopeview, he’d silence her by kissing her, which had finally led to them having sex in the back of his car. As she thought back on it, yes, Dusty had been distant with her, canceling two dates and rushing through gifts with her family on Christmas Eve. When she asked where he needed to be, he said he needed to help set-up the church for the nine o’clock service, though it was strange to Molly at the time, because although she’d looked for him, she didn’t recall seeing him at the actual service.
Now it occurred to her…he was probably leaving her to go see Shana, which begged the question: Who was this man who used church as an excuse to get it on with his piece-on-the-side? She thought she knew Dusty Hicks as well as one human being could know another, but she was wrong. She didn’t know this cheating, lying piece of scum at all. And more hurt, angry tears ran down her cheeks to mix with the hot water still pouring from the shower head.
“You’ll need to get tested,” she whispered miserably, wringing out her hair and watching the water run clear. Because Dusty was her fiancé and Molly was on the pill, they’d never used any protection. And if Shana was pregnant, he certainly hadn’t been using condoms with her. She shook her head in disgust and fury.
Good Lord, what a disgusting excuse for a man.
Thankfully, the realization of Dusty’s epic selfishness had the counter-effect of staunching her tears for the first time since waking up, and her jaw was set in an angry line when she turned off the water and stepped from the shower.
Wrapping a towel around her small frame, she rubbed a circle in the steam on the mirror and finally looked at herself. Her cheeks were bright red due to the hot water, but so were her eyes. After whipping the medicine cabinet open, she took out a small plastic tube of Visine and tilted her head back, letting three or four drops fall into each eye. Screwing the top back on, she opened her eyes wide and watched as they cleared a little, one stray tear making its way down her nose to rest on her top lip. She snaked out her tongue and licked it.
“That’s the last tear I cry for you, Dusty Hicks. That’s a promise.”
Then, still heavy-hearted despite her bravado, Molly marched into her bedroom to throw on some clean underwear, grateful she still had several hours to psyche herself up for the very last place on earth she wanted to be: Daisy Edwards and Fitz English’s Valentine’s Day —ugh—wedding.
CHAPTER 2
Weston English took one last look around his apartment, feeling like he was forgetting something. Tuxedo? Check . Gift? Check . Keys? Check . Toast? He patted his breast pocket, but it was bare. He ran back to the desk in his bedroom and rifled through legal documents and various law books until he found the piece of paper he’d printed out late last night: his wedding toast to his brother, Fitz, and his fiancée, Daisy, who were getting married today. Weston and his three other unmarried brothers were all planning to say a few words.
More than a little bleary-eyed from studying until three o’clock in the morning, he shook his head and grabbed his half-finished coffee cup off the dining room table as he passed. He downed the remaining dregs in a gulp and placed the cup back on the table, reminding himself that after he passed the bar in two weeks he wouldn’t need to keep burning the midnight oil studying. Checking his watch, he realized he still had forty-five minutes before he had to pick up Constance Atwell,
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