“If you ever look at my sister again, I will fucking kill you myself. “Don’t do this-” My words are cut off as I’m shoved down the front steps of the church. Two sets of arms grab me from behind and drag me back toward the doors. “I don’t know why you think you get to have an opinion, but get the hell out of here.” “You can’t marry him.” I’m pretty sure my words slur, but I don’t care. I might’ve miscalculated in my drunken haze. Whitney is dressed in white, looking like the perfect bride, aside from the militant look on her face as she stomps down the aisle toward me. My vision is fuzzy, no doubt from the two fifths of Scotch I used to try to drown out the fact that she’s marrying someone else today.īecause a Gable and a Riscoff can never be together.īut that doesn’t mean I’m going to watch Whitney Gable marry someone else and not say a goddamned word. Every head in the entire congregation swings toward the double doors I flung open.
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