Chapter 2
How would I describe my face in that moment?
Fucking mortified. I never thought I’d be the one crashing and burning so spectacularly.
30%
“I can’t take it anymore,” I groaned, downing my cocktail. “Your brother is either asexual or has some medical issue below the belt. Six months of marriage and nothing. Literally nothing.”
I couldn’t even enjoy the fancy bar snacks anymore. I reached for the bottle of tequila, determined to drink until the humiliation faded.
Emma clinked her glass against mine, mascara already smudging under her eyes.
“I can’t live like this with your brother either. That gorgeous face wasted on such a
venomous tongue. He’s like a goddamn viper.”
“What happened?” I asked, pouring us both another shot.
“Remember that dress I bought from Nordstrom last week? The one you said
made my ass look amazing? I took a selfie and sent it to him, and the asshole
replied that it was so tight it looked like it was made for a praying mantis and
asked if he’d ever seen a mantis with such a great figure before.”
I burst out laughing despite myself. The tequila was already hitting.
Emma, like me, fell for looks first. She saw my brother Ryan once at a Starbucks where I’d arranged for them to “accidentally” meet, and she was instantly obsessed. We both pushed hard to make these matches happen.
We thought married life would be sweet as honey, but instead, it’s been drier than
the Sahara Desert.
“And I just don’t get it,” Emma continued, her voice rising as she leaned in closer.
“Does your brother seriously have that many cases? He locks himself in his home office every night. Most of our conversations happen over text. I’m starting to wonder if he’s got someone on the side.”
I nodded vigorously, staring at my swirling drink. “I’m convinced your brother has someone too. Last week, I walked around in that La Perla see–through nightgown -you know, the one that shows literally everything–and he didn’t even get hard.
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Then I flat–out asked him what flavor condoms he preferred, and he said, ‘We’re not in a rush.‘ Who says that to their wife?”
30%
“When a man won’t fuck his wife, it usually means he’s getting it somewhere else,” Emma declared, her words slightly slurred. “I’m so pissed–we’re married and I still haven’t gotten laid!”
“Those bastards,” Emma said, pounding the table so hard our drinks sloshed over.
She squeezed my shoulder with bitter resolve. “Let’s do it. I’ll file tomorrow, you
file the day after. We’ll take half their money and live our best lives on Instagram.”
I was totally on board with the plan.
