Riding Standing Up
Page 24
“Edward, the invitations have all been sent. It’s a done deal.” That’s all I could come up with as to why I should marry Newfie Mike and not the love of my life. Was this really happening to me? I had buried him so deep … again. And now there he was, unraveling me, when I should be thinking of things like how I was going to wear my hair and whether or not I had bought enough Jordan almonds.
“Sparrow, please think about this. You don’t have to go through with it. You could call it off. Dahlin’, please …”
There was that melty feeling again. He was the only man who had that effect on me and I hated it. At twenty-two I had grown up a lot. I had two jobs, a mortgage, and I was attending a local college working on my degree. I had quit smoking and drinking and spent what little spare time I had making crafts. I could work wonders with a hot glue gun and a little Spanish moss. I had morphed into the quintessential Midwestern girl.
“Edward, I’m sorry but you had your chance. I’m moving on now and I suggest you do the same.” And with that, I slammed the phone down. I was shaking, partly from anger and mostly because that was the first time I had felt anything in so long and it was sensory overload. Instead of having a good cry like I needed to, I reached for Dad’s pack of cigarettes and pulled one out. I had been working with Samantha on wedding favors all afternoon at their place when Edward called. I poured a drink, lit a cigarette, and went back to filling little bags with varying shades of pastel-colored Jordan almonds for my wedding day.
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