Happily Never After

by Lynn Painter

I’d chugged the Kool-Aid of happily-ever-after like a damn fool.

“He is a man, and it’s their job to disappoint us. Eternally.

“God, no. The Holiday ruined The Holiday for me.” “Not a fan?” “I hate rom-coms.” “For real?” he asked with raised eyebrows. “They’re just so unrealistic, as if written by morons who’ve been injected with lovesick hopefulness and had delusions of romance shot up their asses.” Am I slurring? “They’re actually part of the problem, if you ask me.”

“Love isn’t the problem. The problem is the way society promotes it as if it’s the only thing that matters in life when it doesn’t even exist.”

“Stuart didn’t hurt me.” I bit into a walnut and shook my head, still smoldering with rage over everything that happened, the horrible choices I made. “He pissed me off and made me want to beat him to death on the altar of our Lord, but he did not hurt me.” That made him quirk an eyebrow. “Come on. It’s okay.” “Oh, I know,” I said, meeting his doubtful gaze and sitting up straighter. “But it’s true. I absolutely knew he wouldn’t be faithful. I made the mistake of thinking marriage might be a good idea because of logical reasons, but Stu’s cheating neither surprised nor hurt me.” He stopped chewing. “You expected your fiancé to cheat?” “Max, I have been cheated on by every single person I’ve ever committed to, beginning with that brace-faced trumpeter—Jack Snook—way back in the eighth grade.” A pitying look crossed Max’s face, and I held up a hand to stop him from speaking. “And before you say something nice and placating, like ‘they were idiots,’ please know that I don’t take their idiocy personally. I know they were idiots and it had nothing to do with me.”

what about couples who are happily married for fifty years?” He turned his body as well so we were face-to-face on the fancy hotel sofa. “Who’ve never cheated. How do you explain that?” “Luck, character, and hard work.” I shrugged and said, “My grandparents are like that; happily married for forty-seven years. But the thing of it is, ‘true love’ is just a label we stick on highly functioning partnerships to perpetuate the myth.”

“How can you ever be sure you’ve found the one ‘true love’ of your life when you haven’t even met one percent of the people on the earth? You could have the exact same relationship with millions of them as you do with your significant other, simply because of compatibility.”

“Like a firefighter, only without the bravery and dangerous working conditions.”

It’s my job, as a man, to let you know my opinion on your decision.”

“You drive a ’69 Camaro?” She beamed, almost like she was proud of me for recognizing it. “I do. His name is Nick, he’s a Sagittarius, and he makes me feel things I’ve never felt for another man.”

How could I not smile at that? I realized as I looked down at her that I had no idea who she was. Wild bride, serious professional, hopeless car romantic; which one was the real her? “You’re very weird, Sophie.” “I know,” she said, lifting her chin just a little, daring me to pass judgment. “I like it,” I added, meaning that. There was something about her that . . . shit, that I liked.

“Dear God, you make his life hell on a daily basis, don’t you?” I shrugged and kind of liked telling someone. “I do my best, yes.” “Mad respect,” he said. “And I also pity your ex just a little because I have a feeling you’re very good at your job.”

She finally looked up at me, giving in to a full grin that had the power to knock a guy on his ass.

I was good at conflict avoidance—it was a big part of my job, in fact—but

I take a self-defense course every year to keep myself sharp. Never imagined I’d use my skills on a redneck bride.”

“No, I mean, you’re a great kisser and all, for sure. But for me, the realization that I was doing it for myself—that I was getting what I wanted from your mouth—was what made it the best kiss I’ve ever kissed. In a weird way, I was kind of kissing myself.” “That is very weird,” I said.

“Ash, we are not going to cancel the wedding.” He said it matter-of-factly and without anger, almost like it was predetermined. “You and I are perfect together, we’ve spent a fortune on this wedding, and we’re getting married. Dry your eyes and fix your hair, because we have to get back out there.” “Evan,” Ashley said through tears, “you’re having an affair! I’m not going to marry you.” “Come on now,” he said, bending his knees so his face was at her level. “Let’s be grown-ups. Something happened that was my fault—and I’m so sorry—but we have a wedding to finish and a honeymoon to go on.

“Smile.” I raised my phone, and he still wasn’t smiling. He was smoldering, at me, and my breath caught in my chest a little as I took the picture.

Maybe talk to me when you haven’t been out playing ‘taste the tonsil’ with Julian the Hot.”

“Max,” she breathed in between kisses, her mouth tasting like vodka and sweet promise, “your glasses are like foreplay.” I chuckled as my left hand slid underneath her T-shirt and I said against her lips, “Are you saying you like them?” “They make me want to ask you for extra credit, Mr. Parks.”

I felt short of breath as I looked at her whiskey eyes,

The Predator anyone?