After being jilted at the altar, Amber Gardner finds herself in a small beach town and stuck rooming with an unlikely person: her childhood nemesis Cameron, the man she is supposed to hate.
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Amber Gardner and her fiancé were together for two year...
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THE CHORUS INSIDE MY HEAD SANG THE DEATH MARCH.
I reread the letter, in his messy writing and tainted with my teardrops, countless times as if it would finally sink in or vanish into thin air like it never existed. Neither happened in the end; I just remained in my seat in the bridal suite, my hair and makeup done, in a plain silk wedding dress that hugged my body. There was actually another custom dress I loved since I saw it in a Vogue issue, but I didn't want to be that girl who drove herself to bankruptcy before the wedding.
It wasn't exactly the right moment to mull over my dress choices. I looked at my phone, hoping for a call or message from my fiancé, saying that he wanted to humor me right before our wedding for a good laugh that we would remember for the rest of our lives and tell our grandchildren. He wasn't a funny type, and it was one of the things I liked about him, but I wouldn't mind this joke. It was a cruel joke and made my heart beat like I'd just run a marathon, but I didn't want to think about the other possibility.
This letter not being a fucking cruel joke.
No, a weak voice said, this can't be happening to you.
I straightened my back, filling my lungs with air, and agreed to the voice. This couldn't be happening to me. I, Amber Gardner, wasn't jilted at the altar while dozens of guests were waiting for me to show up, walk down the aisle with Pops, to the altar, to my future husband, Marcus Kavinsky. I looked down at the letter in my lap again, and my heart sank.
It'd been an hour since I read this letter, and there was no call or message to explain what the fuck was going on. I let out a soft huff, running my mind over the possibilities. Did Marcus give me any signals for this? Was I fucking blind not to see that he would dump me the day we were getting married?
Two years. We weren't inseparable lovers that wanted to spend every moment together, but we were wise—we gave each other space and made time for each other. We kissed, laughed, and we loved each other. We didn't say it out loud, but I could see it in his eyes. I loved him in my way, respecting him and making him a part of my life. I said yes when he asked to marry me.
