Page 2 of My So-Called Perfect Life

“Seriously, you two, one of you, start talking.”

My sister’s brown eyes flicker down to the iPhone in her hand and back to me.

I immediately recognize the case. “Is that Scott’s phone?”

“I, um … well, uh … I found it on the bench right here,” she finally spits out as the phone chimes in her hand.

“He must have left it here,” I say, reaching for it. “The guys had their pictures taken right before us. We need to call one of the groomsmen to come get it before he comes up here, looking for it. I swear, if Scott sees me before those doors open, heads are going to roll. I will not let anything ruin my moment.”

Amelia jerks the phone out of my reach as it goes off again.

“What are you doing?” I hiss. “I don’t want any broken traditions on my wedding day. I don’t have my phone to use, so give me that.”

Her shoulders slump, and she hands over the phone, looking defeated.

“What’s going on with you?” I ask as I type in Scott’s birthday backward to unlock his phone. “You were all but bouncing off the wall not even fifteen minutes ago, claiming you couldn’t wait to get your drink on and find a man to keep you warm to—”

The rest of the sentence dies on the tip of my tongue as I look down at the string of texts coming in.

Mandy:I can feel you dripping out of me.

Mandy:I bet your prim-and-proper little fiancée never let you mark her in a public restroom.

Mandy:I bet my lipstick and cum are still on your cock.

Mandy:Here’s something to help you out tonight when you have to rub one out because she can’t satisfy you like I can. Remember how hard you just came for me? Remember how good my lips felt around your cock just before you hiked up my dress and fucked me while wearing the tux you’re going to marry her in?

It’s a video of bright red lips gliding up and down the shaft of a penis. Presumably Mandy’s lips and Scott’s penis.

Mandy:It’s not too late to change your mind. You know she’ll never keep you happy. Not the way I can.

Mandy:Please don’t marry her, Scott.

Bile rises in my throat. I try to choke it back, but it isn’t working. White dots dance in my peripheral, and a dull ringing fills my ears. I look at my sister through the tears I’m desperately trying to keep from falling. Amelia’s lips are moving, but I can’t hear what she’s saying.

Oh my God!

“That small-dicked bastard is cheating on me?” An anger I’ve never felt before rises from my feet and straight out my mouth pushing every other feeling aside. “That asshole is cheating on me? With his fucking assistant?”

A savage laugh shoots through my anger like the lid off a steaming pot.

“Why is she laughing?” I hear Mercy ask.

“I don’t know,” Amelia answers.

I hear my parents next, “What’s going on?” My mom asks.

My life is imploding. Everything wonderful—all the happy memories, the world Scott and I were building, the last six years of my life—ignites into flames. The ash rains down on me on the roof of the city’s most-sought-after wedding venue.

This can’t be happening. This has to be a joke.

I try to convince myself this is some pre-wedding hoax, but the vision of Scott’s dick in her mouth are very much present in my mind.

My dream life—the one I’ve been picturing and building in my mind since Scott asked me to marry him eighteen months ago—swirls in my head in bright, vivid colors and bursts into a fiery explosion, the pieces falling to my feet in charred bits.

* * *

“Breathe,”Mercy coaches while Amelia runs her hand down my back.