Don't Kiss the Bride

With a raw moan of my name, he collapses on top of me, breathing heavily. We kiss, foreheads touching, deep, slow and dreamy until we’re too tired to kiss anymore.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, and disappears into the bathroom for a few minutes. He kisses me when he returns, tasting of mint-flavored toothpaste, and flops down on his pillow.

“By the way.” He rolls over to face me and snakes his arm around my waist, nestling against my side. “You were right. I was jealous.”

I smile in the dark. “I know,” I reply softly.

When he drifts off, I watch him sleep for a few minutes, then slip out from under his embrace and tiptoe naked back to my own room. Even though I want to stay in his bed, I don’t want to seem clingy or tread over his no-staying-the-night rule.

Before I go to sleep, I do what I do every night—I take my wedding band out of my nightstand and slip it onto my finger—wondering what it would be like if this was all real.

Chapter 32

Skylar

“I’m off to work,” Jude says from my doorway, just like he does every morning before he leaves.

There’s no good-morning kiss.

No about last night… talk.

“Okay,” I reply, meeting his eyes, wondering if I’ll see something different after what happened last night. “Have a good day.”

There’s nothing different in his eyes. Not a lingering look. Not a hint of regret.

“You too. See ya tonight.”

When I hear the front door open and close, I move to the window and watch him walk down the walkway, get into his truck, and back out of the driveway.

A little ache burns in my heart and then spreads down to my stomach, then up to my throat. The familiar sting of tears wells behind my eyes.

Confusion settles over me like a dark cloud. I’m caught in a feeling of wanting to cry, but also wanting to sit here and replay last night in my mind and revel in how perfect it felt to be with him.

How he kissed me like he wanted to swallow me up.

How his hands gripped me like he couldn’t get enough.

How it felt to have him stretching me open and pulsing inside me.

How I got lost in that look of hunger and desire swimming in his eyes.

How my heart melted when he kissed me so softly, so full of emotion.

My pussy clenches at the memories, like it wants to pull him back in and never let go.

Perhaps I should have stayed in his bed. He did put his arm around me as he started to fall asleep. Maybe he took my leaving as a sign that I wanted it to be a one-night stand.

I only left because I thought that’s what he wanted, and I wanted to seem mature—like I’m on board with us just casually hooking up.

And, I thought I was okay with that. But now, with this awful longing for him nettling in my soul, I’m not so sure. He seemed so casual and normal this morning, not acting different at all. But, maybe he was expecting—or waiting for—me to act different?

Or are we just going to pretend we didn’t have sex?

I sigh and turn away from the window because my phone notifications are going off like crazy. As soon as I pick my phone up, my stomach pitches. I’ve been tagged again on my social media accounts by Paige and her friends in a bunch of stupid graphics posted with my face Photoshopped into various wedding photos as the bride marrying a really old, wrinkly, gray-haired groom. I grind my teeth at the hashtags #childbride #pedohubby #daddyjude #skylarthedirtyho #mywifeisachild #oldhusband #youcantbringyourhusbandtotheprom #skylarshoulddie

More posts and rude comments are posted as the morning goes on, and now I can hear the girls whispering and giggling about me at the table behind me in the cafeteria.

“Just ignore them,” Megan says, pouring dressing onto her salad.

I meet her sympathetic eyes across the table and shake my head. Ignoring is easier said than done. I can’t escape the constant teasing. Ever since Lisa saw me at the dentist, it’s been going on all day at school, then continues online at night with the social media posts, hashtags, and group chats. Paige and Lisa are the ringleaders of the bullying circus, making sure the torment stays relevant for her minions to gossip about.

“I wonder if her parents sold her to him?” a female voice asks.

“Probably,” Lisa answers. “I hear they were dirt poor, living in a camper in someone’s driveway.”

“Ew, that’s gross,” someone else says.

“How does that marriage even work? Does she go home after school and make him dinner every night? Does he help her with her homework? She’ll probably be pregnant before we graduate. She better not bring him and a baby to the prom.”

“Have you seen him? He’s totally hot.”