Unravel Me (The Hometown #1)
Chapter 1
Chapter one
Audrey
The champagne bottle wobbles dangerously on the edge of the marble side table, and I lunge forward, catching it just before it can crash to the ground.
But it's too late. Sticky champagne splashes across my white silk minidress, the one my maid of honor and I had carefully chosen for my engagement party next weekend.
None of that matters now.
I glance down at the ridiculously expensive pink bottle. Three hundred freaking dollars. That was nothing to Jackson though. He loved buying expensive things simply to prove he could. He bought this one after I landed a large client at work a few months ago, but we never ended up celebrating.
What a damn waste.
I meet my gaze in the mirror, staring at my pitifully swollen hazel eyes surrounded by streaked mascara.
The mascara that Penny, my maid of honor and best friend, assured me was hurricane-level waterproof.
You know, because I needed to look polished and fresh through my upcoming engagement party, where there would be tear-jerking toasts and emotional Kodak moments.
The idea makes me shudder with a humorless laugh now.
Perhaps my tears of heartbreak are stronger than tears of joy.
The sharp clicking of my new Louboutin's is the only sound in the apartment as I amble into the bathroom. Setting the champagne bottle on the counter, I lean into the mirror, contemplating my next move. Thirty minutes have passed since the phone call that turned my world upside down—that’s long enough to get over a five-year relationship, right?
I can’t think in the deafening silence of this bathroom, full of products and monogrammed robes.
The only thing reminding me I'm still alive is the pounding in my head from crying, so I lift the opening of the half-full bottle to my lips, tipping it back gently so the brut bubbles can drown out my impending sobs.
Merely four days ago, I stood right in this spot, kissing my handsome fiancé goodbye.
Less than two hours ago, Penny and I were video chatting, and I was showing her my outfit all put together. We were all laughs and smiles, gushing about the upcoming engagement party that’s been in the works since the moment Jackson Tippins slid that four-carat ring on my finger on New Year’s Eve.
The party was going to be like a wedding in itself, with a large guest list, and a lakefront venue that was to die for.
I’m not sure what’s more nauseating to me, the fact that my heart is shattered into bits, or knowing the backlash I will face when I cancel the engagement party—and the wedding.
My throat restricts as I step back, hitting the wall, and slide down into a puddle on the floor.
The feeling of needles across my chest takes over, as I picture my parents' disappointment when I tell them the news. Undoubtedly, Evelyn Elson, my mother, will be cold, and offer small jabs of backhanded sympathy—her forte. My father, the Samuel Elson, will insist I’m being too rash.
He’ll want to fix this like he fixes everything; by throwing money at it.
He’s always been more concerned about preserving our family’s reputation—and canceling the wedding would be more disgraceful than anything.
Including why I’m canceling it. He’ll be adamant this can be remedied, not unlike a PR disaster at my father's investment firm.
I take another sip of champagne, mumbling what I will end up saying to my father.
Sorry, Dad. I know you loved Jackson (more than me). Sorry, I know you have a deep business history with the Tippins family.
Of course, my parents will expect that nothing on the surface changes.
I’d have to remain poised, continue performing well at work, and keep my social circle free of gossip—AKA never disclose the truth.
My mother will most likely remind me it’s okay to mourn, but only for the appropriate amount of time.
That amount of time will be predetermined, and when the time is up, it will then be socially acceptable to reenter the dating pool; which she’ll enthusiastically encourage since I’m not getting any younger.
Shaking my head with the bottle to my lips, the only thought running through my mind is this is not how it’s supposed to be.
This was the derailment I never saw coming, and truthfully, I’ve never felt more naive.
Two more large sips of bubbly roll down my throat. A familiar tightness follows, and instead of screaming like I want to, I kick my new heels off and watch them skid across the bathroom floor into the glass shower wall, as an angry grunt ripples past my lips.
If I shut my eyes, maybe I can pretend this was all a bad dream, and when I eventually wake from this slumber, I will still be the soon-to-be Mrs. Tippins.
But when I close my eyes, feeling the cold marble floor beneath my clammy palms, all that flashes before me is the life Jackson and I had planned, now washed away like a flood.
An annoying buzzing pulls me from my self-loathing trance as my eyes dart across the room to my phone.
Penny's beautiful, glowing face lights up the screen. Our blissful video chat earlier had been abruptly cut short with Jackson’s call. I never did call her back like promised.
I only answered Jackson’s call because it had been unexpected.
He had reminded me earlier today he’d be unreachable tonight; busy schmoozing clients or whatever he did to work his way up to VP at twenty-six years old.
It was expected. He often has week-long business trips in cities all around the world.
But then again, he hadn’t meant to dial me tonight.
That part was a mistake—it was all a mistake, he assured me.
However, mistakes that continue for six months can hardly be considered mistakes anymore, can they?
Silencing Penny's call, I shakily text her from the bathroom floor, letting her know I’ll call her later. When later is, I don’t know. Especially if I keep drinking this champagne, which is starting to taste like water.
I sit for another minute before I can’t take the silence any longer and nearly leap from the floor.
This apartment no longer feels like my safe space, but more like the walls are caving in and pulling the air from my lungs, so I grab the champagne bottle, leaving my phone on the floor, and drunkenly stumble to the foyer.
Slipping on my fuzzy, pink slippers, I rip open the front door, and step into the quiet, empty hall.