In a Jam by Kate Canterbary EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Kate Canterbary
- Language: English
- Genre: Romantic Comedy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Students will be able to do battle with attorneys, cow trucks, and pirates.
“YOU HAVE TO SIGN FOR A LETTER.”
I blinked up at Jaime from my cocoon on her sofa, day drunk and dressed
in three-day-old pajamas. Two weeks after being left at the altar, I was at
least slightly drunk most of the time but I didn’t cry constantly, which
seemed like an improvement.
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That, or evidence of dehydration. I wasn’t sure.
“But why?” I asked.
She scooped her long, silky brown hair up and tied it in a ponytail. “I
don’t know, doll. I tried to do it for you but the dude asked for ID.”
It took me a minute to scrape myself off the sofa. The door was quite the
journey for me. I’d only ventured outside the warehouse-turned-loft
apartment Jaime shared with three other women a handful of times since
everything fell apart on my wedding day.
The first time I pulled myself together enough to leave the apartment was
to chop off six inches of hair—hair I’d spent nearly two years growing out
for the perfect wedding look—and then take my natural blonde to rose gold.
I had no specific reason for wanting shoulder-length pink hair. I couldn’t
explain it. All I knew was I didn’t want to see the old version of me in the
mirror anymore.
That was what led me to the tattoo. Much more permanent than changing
up my hair but I’d wanted it for years, and now I needed a visible reminder
that whoever I had been before this disaster wasn’t the me of today.
Then, I sold everything touched by my former relationship. Dresses of
every kind. Engagement photo dresses, engagement party dresses, bridal
shower dresses, bachelorette dresses. The after-party and the next-day brunch
outfits, the honeymoon looks. Those fabulous magenta shoes and the veil.
Anything I’d worn with the ex. All the random bits of wedding kitsch I’d
carefully collected. Even two-ish years of bridal magazines.
And that damn gown. As it turned out, I hadn’t ripped it in any significant
way. Just a tear along the side seam, nothing a tailor couldn’t handle. Seeing
as that designer hardly ever made anything to fit a size sixteen gal like
myself, there were dozens of brides lined up to buy it from me.
There wasn’t much left after that. The clothes I wore to teach
kindergarten. A collection of yoga pants in assorted shades of fading black. A
shoebox filled with wacky earrings I loved but my ex-fiancé had hated.
So, here I was with new hair and fresh ink, guzzling liquor while bingeing
mindless reality television on my best friend’s couch in days-old pajamas as
the ex enjoyed the honeymoon I’d planned and paid for as a wedding gift to
him. That was my prize for following the rules.
That, and whatever the hell I had to sign for at the door.
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