BRIDE SERIES 1: The Unfaithful Hater

OLIVE BECKETT

I should really stop checking the food.

The ring could be here anytime soon.

What should I say if he gets down and propose?

Do I scream? Do I cry? Do I wait a few seconds before saying yes?

Okay, okay, relax, Olive. It's not every day you get your boyfriend to propose, now is it?

I shook out my hands and touched my face to see if this was still a dream or reality.

He was going to propose. Lord knows how much I've dreamed of this day. I won't tell him that I was snooping and found the ring a few months ago, it wasn't exactly my size, but he must've had it resized.

“Olly"

I looked up and watched Elliot approach the table, hands in his pockets as he called out my name.

“I'm sorry for the delay. The men's bathroom was very occupied,” he said and sat down.

“It's okay. I didn't wait long.”

He smiled at me and focused back on his food.

Uhm… okay, was he going to propose right now?

Maybe I'm rushing things. Maybe he wants to propose at home. That's why he wanted us to eat out tonight. We haven't done this in a while, especially since I've been so busy with work at the hospital, and so has he with the company.

“Olly,” he started. This is it. I shut my eyes and stuck out my hand, anticipating.

“I can't do this anymore.”

What? I opened my eyes and watched him take an envelope out of his pocket and place it in front of me.

“I'm getting married, Olly.”

My fork fell from my hands instantly. My breath seized as my heart hammered in my chest. I don't think I heard that properly.

Croakily, I asked, “W-what?”

“I know I shouldn't have told you like this, but we needed to tell you somehow. I'm so sorry, Olly.”

We? I picked up the envelope…the words boldly written on the front: ‘Jane Weds Elliot, You're Invited’.

Jane....my best friend of fifteen years, Jane?

“Jane was the one who suggested we both have dinner so I could tell you. We want you at our wedding, though. We need your blessings.”

“What?”

My eyes stung with tears ready to drop as I stared at the card. The words, the letters—that was supposed to be me. This was supposed to be my invitation.

How did I not know? I looked back at Elliot, who just kept rambling, but I didn't hear a single word. The room was spinning; my head hurt like it had been hit. My chest hurt, constricted as I gasped for air.

“I'm so sorry, but I couldn't delay this any longer. I had to tell you, because I love her"

I LOVE HER. I LOVE HER.

How dare he say that to me?!

“Eight years. I gave you eight years of my life, and this is how you repay me?!”

“We were bound to break up. We've both been so busy, and I've had my choices…redirected. I needed someone different, especially now that you have—”

He paused.

“Now that I've what?!”

“Gotten fat.”

“You're breaking up with me because I've added a few pounds over the years?”

“Come on, Olly. You know it's not just a few. You've changed, and physically, you're not the best fit for me. I mean, I run a multimillion-dollar company, and the public expects someone good-looking, not someone—fat.”

His words were like sharp knives, cutting through every ounce of patience I had. I squeezed the envelope in anger and threw it right at his face.

“Eight years, and the only shit you can tell me is that you're ashamed of me? Is that it, Elliot?! You betrayed me, cheated on me, and now you look me right in the face and ask for my blessing to your wedding?!”

“It's not like that, Olly…”

“Don't! I gave you eight years of my life, Elliot! When your dad died, I was fucking there for you! When you needed money for your business, I sold my car, for you! When you weren't ready to have children, I agreed to go on oral contraceptives, for you! And now you betray me with my best friend?”

My world was shattering before my eyes, and I couldn't do anything. I wanted to thrash this place. I wanted to make him see how much he hurt me—how much they hurt me.

“Where did I go wrong?” I asked, lips quivering with tears. “What does she have that I don't?”

“I'm sorry, Olly. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm just so tired of lying to you, and I didn't know if I could continue. Please tell me you’ll come to our wedding? We’ll be expecting you.”

I looked back at him and shook my head in disbelief at how stupid he was.

“Get out.”

“Olly—”

“Fucking leave! Get out!” I shouted, not minding the number of eyes on us.

He stood up, straightened himself, and placed a box in front of me.

“I got you something. It's a little gift.”

I didn't even bother to open the box as he placed a wad of cash on the table and walked out of the restaurant. I opened my bag and brought out the two hockey tickets. I had planned to surprise him tonight with them. And now everything was ruined.

I have lost everything.

After so many years.

So then I did what I should've done. I cleaned my face, put on my big-girl pants, walked out of the restaurant, got into my car, and drove to the nearest bar I could find.

The red and blue lights disturbed my eyes as I walked in. I couldn't care less, especially with mascara running down my face. What better way to numb the pain than with a drink?

“A shot of your best whiskey, please?”

A large cheer came from the corner of the bar as I took a sip, then another. The only thing that replayed in my head was that goddamned invite.

I brought out the game tickets. I got them not because I enjoy hockey. He wouldn't shut up about the goddamn game, so I had to surprise him with them.

“I see you don't like hockey much?”

I turned to the voice. My eyes met the most gorgeous man I had ever seen—blonde hair, grey eyes, and biceps that could lift any weight. His blue eyes looked like light blue orbs that could enchant anyone. His lips, full and awfully sexy at best.

“I hate the sport.”

“Ohh, interesting. You're the first one in Canada to tell me you hate hockey.”

I scoffed. “It's such a stupid sport. You know what's even more stupid? The players.”

“If you hate it so much, why do you have tickets to the game?”

Who was this stranger, and why was he asking stupid questions? I downed another glass and clenched my fists in anger.

“My boyfriend of eight years broke up with me tonight. Eight years, can you imagine that? He's getting married to my best friend! I got these tickets because I thought he was going to propose. I wanted to surprise him.” I laughed painfully. “I was the one surprised.”

“Stupid tickets.” I ripped them apart and turned to the gorgeous stranger.

“Am I fat and disgusting? Am I not worthy of love?”

His eyes shone with shock. “I think you look great.”

I pushed my glasses to the bridge of my nose and said, “Prove it.”

“What?”

“Prove to me that I'm attractive. Kiss me.”