My Ex-Boyfriend's Wedding by T. Sue VerSteeg

Author:T. Sue VerSteeg [VerSteeg, T.Sue]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gemma Halliday Publishing
Published: 2014-10-15T04:00:00+00:00

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Jemma tugged the throw blanket over her shoulders, exposing her feet. Chilled, she woke, sitting up on her couch with a start, as the memories from the past evening's debacle began crowding her mind. She blinked back the tears as she reached for her phone to find out the time. At five in the morning, it wasn't even the butt-crack of dawn yet. No one was awake, not that she really wanted to talk to anyone. At the same time, she didn't want to be alone either. She shimmied out of her dress, which she'd slept in and nearly ruined, and put on shorts and an old T-shirt. After slipping on flip-flops and running a brush through her hair, she then made her way out the door and down to her car. The horizon glimmered with the soft promise of morning. When she hit the unlock button, the shrill doop-doop pierced the quiet, prompting dogs to bark from all directions.

Driving through town half dazed, she nearly missed several stop signs. Unscathed, at least on the outside, she arrived at her destination and put her car in park. She stared up the walk to the familiar home, the house she grew up in. Light from the street lights filtered through the trees, speckling the front porch, dancing with the gentle breeze. The swing moved ever so slightly, as though beckoning her. She walked slowly up the front walk, her hands brushing against the tall lilies framing the pavement. Scanning the darkened windows for some sign of life, Jemma's hopes for company were dashed. Though the swing was right in front of her parents' bedroom, she still slid into the familiar wooden frame and rocked. Even with no one to share the comforting creaks, she still felt a tiny bit better with each sway.

The light behind her flicked on; her mother's soft voice whispered, "Honey, there's someone in the swing. Get your baseball bat."

Jemma turned sideways, leaning over the back of the swing, and tapped on the window. "It's me, guys."

Her father yanked the curtains open, standing there in nothing but his underwear. "Jemma? What on God's green earth possessed you to scare the crap out of us?"

If she hadn't already been traumatized, the sight of her dad in his tighty-whities would've done the trick. Dropping her head into her hands, she muttered, "Mom, can you come out here? I really need to talk."

Her mother tapped on the glass to get her attention. At least she had on shorts and a T-shirt.

Bras are highly overrated anyway, right? Not that Jemma really expected her mother to sleep in one.

"Do you know what time it is?" She crossed her arms under her boobs and lifted them to weave her hands through her elbows. It looked like a can of biscuits popped open.

Jemma nodded, really beginning to doubt her decision to stop, which was probably what her parents were going for. "Please, Mom?"

She grabbed the drapes, sliding them shut with a flourish. Jemma

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