Free A Mess of Reason by A. Wilding Wells

Tell me he
didn’t fuck her last night. Tell me she’s sitting all alone having
tea by her fireplace, reading her Kindle, wrapped up in blanket.
Please.
    ok… Happy birthday.
    Thanks.
    Wow, 29. g’ up there, old lady
    Don’t remind me
    Do we get to celebrate with you? I
hope…?
    I don’t get an answer back for more than
five minutes. I feel as if I’ve lost her. I make another cappuccino
and rub my iPhone’s belly as if it’s a genie about to grant me
three wishes. Then I hear the ding of her response.
    I’m going to spend it with Creed. thanks
anyway.
    That fuck is still here? Unreal.
Un-friggin-real. My guess is she had to tell him it was her
birthday. Maybe he’ll go online and buy her a $90,000 diamond
necklace from Cartier or some piece-of-shit, cheesy tennis bracelet
that says money = love. That fuck wouldn’t know who she is if she
came with her own operating manual. I shoot her back a text—just
one more.
    I’m gonna miss you today…. I love you,
beautiful birthday girl. Love you more than a
Hostess-mess-of-junk-food-cake.
    I get nothing back. I figured as much.
Please, you cocksucker, be good to her today, be good to her on her
twenty-ninth birthday. I can’t hang around here a minute longer
without wanting to go over to her ranch to strangle that fuck. So I
take my Ducati out for a ride. It’s a chilly morning, but no snow
on the roads. I open her up and let off as much steam as I can, all
the while just praying Tess has a smile on her face and maybe just
maybe it’s because of me.

CHAPTER NINE
    TESS
     
     
    Happy fucking birthday to me! This is a new
twist. I’m spending my birthday alone this year. No one knows I’m
alone because I’ve lied to everyone I love. I’ve told all of them
I’m spending it with my fiancé, Creed. The very man I’m getting
married to the weekend after next.
    Wanna know what’s really funny about my lie?
Creed left last night after we had a big fight about Scout. Yeah.
He’s off to rockerland. I’m pretty damn sure he doesn’t even
realize it’s my birthday at all. Oh sure, Scout sent me a text at
the crack of dawn. So did my dad, and Rox and Striker and all my
other girlfriends. Everyone is hoping to hang out with me tonight
to celebrate, but I’m so mortified that the man I’m marrying
doesn’t remember it’s my day that I give them all a big fat fucking
lie so they won’t feel sorry for me. I’m that pathetic. I need them
to believe that my fiancé is a really good guy, because we are going to get married.
    I’ve decided that much. I am getting
married. Don’t judge; we all make choices for our own reasons. You
only know some of mine. I figure once we get over the early bumps,
everything will smooth out and be just fine. I plan on going off
the pill a few days before we tie the knot. Who knows, maybe I’ll
get pregnant that very first night. I want a baby and a husband and
I have his ring on my finger. It’s my fairy tale, my movie…I’m the
editor. So what if we fight now and again—who doesn’t? So what if
he forgot my birthday? I’ll put it in his iPhone calendar next time
I see him—which is actually going to be on our wedding day.
    The next time I see my husband-to-be, Creed
Luce, will be when Scout is walking me down the aisle to him. Once
I’m married and pregnant, all the fiery flames with Scout will die
down, too. He’s my best friend. Period.
    Mrs. Creed Luce. Tess Luce. Tess Harlow
Luce. They all sound good to me. Or at least I convince myself that
they do.

CHAPTER TEN
    SCOUT
     
     
    “Dude, did you see Creed Luce’s jet? It’s
badass man. I’ll say this, yours is the coolest ever, but his…it’s
pretty fucking awesome. I got the nickel tour.”
    I’ve been riding for hours. I stopped in the
mountains at the Quail and Claw tavern for a few beers, then hung
with Striker and played pool for a while, and now the roads have
led me to the airport. I ride in to check on the paint job that’s
being done on my jet and happen