Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
I lunge toward her and hug her so tight that a little oomph of air jumps from her lungs on a gasp.
“I don’t want to say I told you so right now, but I think I should remind you that when you started dating Thomas back in the day, I told you he didn’t deserve you.”
There it is. The very reason why Lillian is going along with this. The signs were there from the start, and Lil’s agreement is all the confirmation I need to know I’m making the right move.
Thomas King might be charismatic and handsome and check off all the superficial boxes, but he is very much a man that is all about himself. People might love Thomas, but no one loves him as much as he does. And beneath his perfect persona is the kind of evil I didn’t even know was possible.
You can’t make a square peg fit into a round hole, and by God, with all the things Thomas has evidently done, my edges are curved.
When he asked me to marry him a year ago, in a display of ostentatious wealth in the form of a big party with expensive flowers and caviar appetizers and a hundred people watching as he got down on one knee, I felt like I couldn’t say anything but yes. But I should’ve said no.
“Nor, I need you to listen to me closely,” Lillian says and places both of her hands on my shoulders. “I’m going to make some calls and get a getaway car set up. We’re going to sneak you out the side entrance and get you back to my apartment. Though, I’m not sure how long you’ll be able to stay there. I can imagine it’s the first place everyone will look.”
“And then what?”
“And then, I’ll face the Eleanor Ellis music.”
My eyes go wide. “Lil, you can’t—”
“I got this, okay?” she says and takes the phone out of the small blush-pink silk purse that matches her bridesmaid dress. “I’ll handle it right now and then...yeah...you’re going to have to deal with quite the aftermath.”
The aftermath. God help me.
She searches my eyes. “Are you sure you’re prepared for that?”
“Yes,” I tell her. No hesitation. No doubt.
I steal a glance at the envelope that’s still clutched in my hand.
The truth will set you free.
…
Freshly showered and wearing a pair of Lillian’s sweatpants and her old NYU shirt, I plop down onto her vintage gold sofa in the living room. Lil is busy in the kitchen, and I decide to look at my phone and see what’s waiting for me on the other side.
I have missed phone calls and text messages from my mother and Thomas and Thomas’s mother, and I shut my eyes and tap the screen, letting fate decide whose messages I read first.
Mom: Where in the hell are you? Answer your phone. I just talked to Lillian, and she said you left. Obviously, that can’t be the case because this is YOUR WEDDING DAY.
Eleanor Ellis sent that first message around the same time I was playing the part of the runaway bride and getting in a getaway car and heading down Fifth Avenue.
Mom: Norah. I have no idea what is going on with you, but you need to call me RIGHT NOW.
The second message came in about two minutes later. And it was followed up by about twenty other messages and missed phone calls that all occurred in the span of a few minutes.
But her last two messages are where things really get bad.
Mom: NORAH. This behavior is unacceptable.
This behavior. As if I’m a child. As if she’s throwing a temper tantrum because she didn’t get what she wanted.
And her last and final text of the night? Well, it’s a real doozy.
Mom: I will never forgive you for this.
You’d think she was the groom—that I left her high-and-dry at the altar. Not a mom, who wants the best for her daughter, no matter the messiness. I can’t deny that her words cut deep.
They embody every cruel and manipulative part of her—all the parts I’ve spent years burying my head in the sand to deny.
But there’s no denying it anymore—Eleanor Ellis doesn’t give a shit about me, and she never did.
Tears are already in my eyes when I stupidly decide to switch over to Thomas’s texts.
Thomas: Baby, where are you?
Thomas: The wedding is supposed to start in ten minutes. Where are you?
The first two messages are expected, but the next several texts give me a sense of déjà vu. I feel like it’s my mother all over again.
Thomas: Lillian said you left. What the fuck, Norah? What is going on? There are three hundred people here ready to watch us get married and you left???
Thomas: I can’t believe this is fucking happening right now. Answer your phone. Call me back.