Cruel Infidelity

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Extravagant white wedding gowns, elaborately braided hairstyles, and love quotes zoom past her eyes as she scrolls through her Pinterest board with a sense of exultation. Andrew was marrying her. Not Rachel. She can’t wait to brag on social media.

A lacy black dress catches her eye. She bites her lip. No, it looks like something tacky Rachel would wear, she thinks. Her and Rachel may have had things in common in the past, but things are different now. She must create as much distance between herself and Rachel as possible. The last thing she wants is Andrew thinking of Rachel when he says, I do.

She looks up from her phone, watching Andrew flip through his daily planner. Andy wouldn’t appreciate her treating their wedding as a funeral, anyway. “What’s on the schedule for today?” she asks, trying to sound neutral yet upbeat.

He exhales through his nose before answering her. “Nothing that would interest you.” He moves his black gel pen across a page in one straight line before writing something.

“Try me,” she says.

He looks at her pointedly. “No,” he says firmly.

“Were you even serious about wanting to marry me?”

He clicks the end of his pen and carefully closes his scheduler, placing it neatly on the table. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know, I was just wondering what was going on with everything. We haven’t really talked much about the future.”

“If you’d have a little faith, you wouldn’t have such an incessant need to discuss every single little thing that pops into that head of yours.”

“I’ve been finding a lot of great ideas on Pinterest, is all. I want to marry you.”

“It won’t be that sort of wedding.”

“But, I.” She stops, thinking better of talking back.

“I’m not a fan of grand spectacles. Come on, Heather. You know me better than that.”

She pauses for a moment. Do I?

“Why waste money? Why flash what we have to everyone else? What’s it to them? Do you want friends or people who pretend to be friends just to get a piece of the pie? Stop thinking like them.”

“Like who?”

Them… Everyone. How many people do you think would actually get married if they didn’t get the chance to showboat.” He puts his hands up next to his face, and mockingly says. “Oh, look at me, look how much money he spends on me. Me, me, me.” He shakes his head. “Why do you think the divorce rate is so high? Women don’t marry men for love, they marry them for money—Women get married because it gives them the chance to rub it in the faces of all their so-called friends. They do it to feel superior. It’s sickening. Are you one of them?”

She stares at him dumbfounded. Was he right? What would be the point of marrying him if not to rub Tammy and Rachel’s face in it? To show all the whores he fucks on the side that I’m the one he chose. She exits Pinterest.

“Go ahead and announce it on Facebook if you want, I know you’ve been dying to do that. But make it known our ceremony will be small and private. Nobody is invited.” He stands, collecting his planner. “Besides, how else am I going to get you a house if I’ve spent it all appealing to people I don’t give a shit about?” He winks and walks toward the door, grabbing his jacket.

Heather is too shocked to ask where he’s going. A house? My own house?

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