To be sure, I was probably breaking several different rules about not trampling grass or swimming in the pools that weren’t meant for that, but I didn’t care. What’s the worst that could happen? They kick me out and I go home. Home. That sent a queasy feeling rippling through my stomach because I honestly had no clue what the word meant anymore. I was married now and would be expected to live with my husband. I imagined that meant we would be jetting back to his bachelor pad in the city. I could only hope that there was a bedroom on the opposite end of the apartment so that I wouldn’t have to deal with listening to my new husband’s sexploits with other women.

“What are you doing over here?” The man of the hour asked from somewhere behind me.

“I guess I held you up too long with the official stuff. Looks like your bride found a place of peace to wait,” the officiant from our wedding stated. I opened one eye just wide enough to peek at him and then offered up a smile.

“You have to admit, this is a lovely spot,” I explained, and it was the first time since my day had begun, that the words coming out of my mouth didn’t feel like a lie.

“I figured that’s why you both chose the area. Your husband told me you would love it.”

I managed to keep the fake smile plastered to my face because my fake husband had no clue what I would love. “Well, I wish you both the best, but it would seem my part in this is over now. I’ll leave you to enjoy by yourselves.” The last line was said as he glanced over his shoulder to see that the two women, along with Wes, were striding over. He made his hasty retreat, and I turned my face back up toward the sun, while trying to tune everything else out.

“So,” one of the women said once they were close enough. “Are we going to head off and celebrate now?” I didn’t even need to look to know which one was speaking.

“Amber,” the other woman hissed.

“What? It’s not like she doesn’t know the score,” the woman – Amber – answered.

“You can leave now,” Wes stated, anger lacing his voice as he did. “You’ve served your purpose.” It was cruel, or would have been if the woman hadn’t been flaunting it in my face on my wedding day, that she planned to hook up with my new husband. That was a cunty move on her part.

“Served my purpose?” She asked in a snide tone.

“Yeah, you want to act like a whore and cause waves on their wedding day, then that’s how I’ll treat you.”

“They’re not in love or anything,” the woman argued.

“Jesus, Amber, what the hell is wrong with you? It doesn’t matter if they have feelings for one another, no woman wants to think about her wedding night as the moment she first watched her husband walk off to be with someone else.”