Jilted

by Vi Keeland

Those dots started moving again, then stopped. Thirty seconds later, my phone rang. Wilder spoke before I could even say hello. “We are not doing that shit before our wedding.”

Andrew nodded. “To this day, he doesn’t know I know. So please don’t share that with him. But that’s the kind of guy he is. And it’s not just money. When we were in high school, he played for one of the national junior rugby leagues, but he played for the worst team. He could’ve played for the one that won the championship every year. All the teams were clamoring for him. But his coach from middle school coached the shitty team. Guy has some health problems, and Wilder still visits him to this day.”

Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight. Suddenly, I’d turned into damn Shakespeare. At least in my head. Which I was glad for, because saying what I was thinking out loud would sound corny as hell. Even if it was true.

“You know what that sounds like to me?” “What?” “A bunch of excuses because you’re a chicken shit.”

“She’s going to be just fine, Captain.” The nurse thumbed at me. “Pretty sure this one is going to wrap her in bubble wrap when they leave, so I predict she’ll be well taken care of.” I wished I could wrap her in bubble wrap after today. Maybe carry her with me everywhere I went, too.