Don't Kiss the Bride

Now I’m going to have to throw all the food away and start over.

Disturbed, I pull my robe tighter around me as I move quietly across the kitchen.

My heart thumps faster. She’s totally unaware that I’m in the room. I glance toward the front door, then to the knife set on the counter. I left my phone upstairs, and the landline handset is in the living room. What if she’s dangerous? I’m not sure what to do or say, but I have to do something.

“Excuse me?” I clear my throat. “Are you lost?”

She peers at me from around the open refrigerator door.

“Maybe.”

What the hell?

She definitely appears lost and unkempt. Her shoulder-length, light-brown hair is flat in the back and rumpled on the sides, as if she just got out of bed. Her makeup is smudged around her bloodshot eyes. The jeans she’s wearing have red stains on them, which could be blood or hopefully ketchup. Her windbreaker is ripped at the hem, the zipper broken.

I wonder if she’s homeless and hungry.

I scan the kitchen in confusion, wondering how she got in the house. Jude always locks the doors when he leaves.

“I’m sorry,” I say, fighting to keep my voice calm. “What are you doing here? Do you need something?”

“What are you doing here?” she retorts in an obnoxious tone that raises my defenses even more.

My brain spins and my stomach burns. Is she an ex-girlfriend of Jude’s? Or—even worse—a current girlfriend? Could it be someone Paige sent here to screw with me? I wouldn’t put it past her to pay someone to terrorize me.

“I live here,” I say stoically.

“Where’s Jude?” she asks, cracking open a soda and chugging it.

My stomach practically lurches into my throat. She knows Jude, and she’s acting like she has every right to be in the middle of his kitchen making herself at home. She has to be someone from his past, even though I can’t imagine Jude being with a woman who looks so disheveled. The principal’s words about Jude’s concerning past echo in my head. I know Jude has a sketchy history with drug use, drug dealing, rehab and women, but I don’t know the details of all those things or how bad any of it was. All that matters to me is the person he is now.

But maybe his past has shown up for a visit.

I swallow over the fear creeping through me. “He’s at work. Can you please tell me who you are? How did you get in here?” I demand.

“I have a key.”

The hairs on my arms stand up, and I quickly decide I don’t want to be near this girl. I’ve had enough psychodrama for one day.

“Look, this is really weird,” I say. “You can’t just come into someone’s house. I have no idea who you are or what you want, but I think you’re going to have to just leave. Please. If you leave me your info, I’ll tell Jude you stopped by.”

She stares at me with a bemused look, and pulls a plate of sliced honey-roasted chicken out of the fridge. My limbs buzz and tingle with anxiety as she eats it with her fingers.

I walk around the island and snatch the plate away from her. This isn’t store-bought chicken. I cooked it for Jude myself to eat for lunch while he’s at work. This bitch has no right to come into his home and stick her hands in his food. Especially food I made for him. Even though I’m going to throw it away now that she’s touched it, I still don’t want her to have it.

“You can’t eat this,” I say. “And I’d like you to please leave.”

She doesn’t budge. Instead, she just stares at me with her lips curled into a snarky smile. “He’d want me to wait here for him.”

“I don’t think so.” I toss the plate of chicken in the sink. “He’s with me now.” Anger and jealousy are really getting the best of me today, and I see a long talk with my therapist in my future. I’m really not the jealous, violent type. “I live here with him.”

Laughing, she reaches into the sink and grabs another slice of chicken, then makes a show of chewing it in my face.

What is wrong with this chick?

“I don’t think Jude likes insecure women,” she says matter-of-factly. “No man does.”

“Get out or I’m going to call the police.”

She puts her hand up. “Relax, blondie. I’m his sister. I’m not after your man.”

Oh my God.

I blink at her and search her face for familiar features. “Wait... you’re Erin?” My voice doesn’t hide my disbelief.

She narrows her eyes at me. “How do you know my name?”

My heart jumps at her admission, and I’m speechless for a few moments. “Jude talked to me about you. He told me you’ve been missing for years…” I don’t want to say that she’s basically been assumed dead. I have no idea what’s happened to her or where she’s been all this time.