How To Ruin Your Ex's Wedding: A Romantic Comedy

by Denise Wells

  “If we get married again—”

  “When we get married again,” Pax interrupts.

  “Does it still count as twice if it’s the same person? Like, have we still been divorced once before?”

  “Pfft, no. There’s a statute of limitations on it. As long as you marry the same person again within, like, nine years and six months and three days, you’re okay to just say you were married once.”

  “Really?” I ask, smiling and trying to factor the dates in my head, even though I’m sure today would end up being that deadline.

  “So, you want to avoid that stigma, babe, we best be getting hitched right about now.”

  “Okay.” I sigh, then disentangle myself from his embrace to sit up, a huge smile on my face. “Well, what are we waiting for?”

  34

  Epilogue

  PAX

  I would love to tell you that we rushed off and got married that night. But we didn’t. Instead, we had a great dinner prepared by Gregor, with Maisey, Crystal, and her husband Michael in attendance. Angela skipped dinner to go back to the Cascadian House to collect Tabby’s things for her, including the luggage and clothing for the three-week honeymoon that wouldn’t be happening, and bring them back to her.

  Tabby and I were alone again within a few hours and I took full advantage of the remainder of the night by fucking her, making love to her, then fucking her again.

  Besides, the next flight to Vegas wasn’t until morning.

  TABATHA - ONE YEAR LATER

  Maisey puts the finishing touches on my makeup. I’m nervous as hell, but at least I look good. Walking the red carpet while five months pregnant is not my ideal. We weren’t even really planning on having kids, but now that I’m pregnant, I’m liking the idea more and more. Pax is beyond excited. And with the prospect of one on the way, he’s now decided he wants four total. I told him he needs to spend more time at Crystal’s with the twins if he thinks he wants four.

  “You look stunning,” Maisey says, smiling at me.

  “It’s all because of you,” I tell her.

  Pax comes up behind me and runs his hands down the sides of my arms, then takes my hands in his and pulls each up to kiss the backs, before also kissing the top of my head. “It’s all you, Tabs.”

  I look up at him and smile.

  Pregnancy has not been easy for me. Especially after obsessing about my weight for so long. Where everyone else sees pregnant, I see fat. But I’m working on it, I know it’s a process. I make healthy choices for myself and my baby and hope for the best. The worst part aside from that is the chronic heartburn, an ailment I thought had left me along with Hunter. So, hopefully that doesn’t mean the baby will stress me out as much as Hunter did.

  I’m kidding.

  Sort of.

  Motherhood scares me. But it should, right? I mean, it’s a huge responsibility. Pax takes it all in stride, which is good for me, and I rely heavily on that positivity. If he says we can do it, then we can.

  Now I just have to get through tonight. The other most nerve-wracking thing in my life so far. The Industry Awards. I’m up for best-actress in a leading role for the mini-series I did before Hunter and I split.

  Maisey leaves us and Pax helps me out to the limo. I want to get to the theater a bit early so I can circumvent the mad rush of the red carpet before showtime. My dress hides most of the pregnancy, even though we’ve already announced it to the world. But I am not as svelte a figure, especially not in pictures. And pictures last forever.

  Pax spends the ride to the venue talking me up, boosting my confidence, soothing my angst. Which he continues throughout the entire walk down the carpet, and during the cocktail reception before the show starts. I hadn’t realized how tense I was, how necessary that was from him until I my name is called and I walk up to accept the award. He squeezes my hand and kisses me on the cheek, then stands when I do to help me with the stairs leading to the stage.

  I take the first step and turn back to him. “You are my everything.” I take his face in my hands and give him a short, but intense kiss. He has tears in his eyes when I step away. I take that with me, that pride as strength as I stride across the stage to collect my accolade.

  “I’d like to thank the industry for this honor,” I start. “And my agent, Angela. Without you, this never would have been an option. You fought for me when no one else would, knowing I could do it even before I did. Thank you. The crew, thank you for your constant support. Maisey, especially you.” I take a deep breath before starting the next part. “This last year has been a whirlwind for me, as some of you know. If you follow the news at all.” The crowd laughs, as I knew they would.

  Because instead of mine and Hunter’s breakup remaining private, his mother decided to sue me, on his behalf, for the cost of the wedding. Even though Hunter was the one who left me at the altar. In the end, the judge threw out the case since Hunter stated he’d pay for it all in his “Dear Tabatha” note he left me on what was supposed to be our wedding day. It was public and ugly and written about extensively in the gossip rags. Combined with the quickie marriage to Pax, and rumors of an affair, our faces were everywhere. Now with me pregnant, and the industry nomination, the publicity has not stopped.

  “This role was a gamble for me, but it paid off. And I am so very grateful to have been given the opportunity. I don’t know what the future brings, but I know it can’t be any crazier than the past, am I right?” Laughter sounds through the room. “I wouldn’t have been able to do anything I’ve accomplished without that man, right there.” I point to Pax, sitting in the front row.

  “Not only did he knock me up, but he propped me up when things got sticky. With a simple reminder that life is messy, we can’t control it. And you can’t blame yourself for things you can’t control. I take those words with me daily as I slog through both the ugly and the beautiful, appreciating every moment, taking life one day at a time, and remaining grateful for all the wonderful things that happen in this crazy world. Thank you!”

  Hey Reader,

  Now that you’ve finished this book, please consider leaving a review on Amazon, Goodreads, or BookBub. I’ll be your best friend if you do.

  XOXO, Denise

  Acknowledgments

  Every time I finish a book I realize there’s no way I could have done it without a ton of help. And then—since no one edits my acknowledgments and I don’t write them until the very end—I spend hours worrying I’ve misspelled something or my grammar is incorrect.

  That said, in no particular order, I want to thank:

  Rachel Radner, Author - You know how dependent I am on you, but I’m not sure anyone else does. So here is my public declaration - no way in hell could I ever finish a book without you, Rachel. You are amazing.

  Shannon Myers - my new critique partner and MC Romance writer extraordinaire. Thank you for the feedback and I look forward to many more pages together.

  Stephie Walls - You are what I aspire to as a writer. Thank you for your friendship and support. I heart you big, BFF.

  Linda Russell - Foreword PR - You slow the swirling vortex of craziness and indecision that is my brain. And talk me down off every ledge. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

  Cassie, Opulent Designs - I love the cover. Just love it. Thank you.

  Missy Borucki - OMG, woman. I have no words. You make me better with each book. So, I guess I have those words. Oh, and these: Thank you so, so much!

  Jenn Wood - Thank you for taking a chance on me (again.) You are awesome!

  My Dirty Darlings - Life would be so boring without you all to bounce ideas off of and fuck around with online day after day. Plus, I could never make it through without your encouragement. Never.

  Gabriella Scavella-Bell, Jaime Reynolds, Rochelle West, Susan Henn - Your support means everything. I’m humbled by the time and energy that you give me. I can’t thank you all enough.

  Remi-licious - You may not read my books, or even remember what most are about, b
ut you’re still the bestest friend a girl could ask for. I love you!

  While I’m at it, I’m going to thank Daniel Sobieray for being such a hunk. Or maybe I should thank his parents for passing along such good genes. Anyway, he’s the guy in (most of) my teasers and the perfect visual inspiration for romance novels, including this one. Totally go follow him on social media, his pics are hot. Plus, he pretty much made my day/week/year/life when he followed me on Instagram and xoxo’d me on Facebook. It’s the little things.

  Speaking of hunks: my hunk-a-hunk of burning love, BW. The one on which all my semi-flawed/alpha-esque/charismatic male characters are based, topic of plenty-o-FB conversations—which he hates—and the best decision I ever made. Hands down, dude, you make me a much better me than I could ever be on my own. Thank you for being mine. I love you.

  About the Author

  Denise Wells has been reading since before she could talk. And to this day, escaping into a book is her go-to activity before anything else.

  She likes to write about sassy women and semi-flawed alpha-esque men. Denise’s female characters always have strong friendships, potty mouths, and like to drink—a lot.

  Denise is loyal to a fault, a bit too sarcastic, blindingly optimistic, and pretty freakin’ happy with life overall. As a diehard fan of the band The Replacements, Denise would be a rock star in the band if she couldn’t be a writer. She’s even kissed the lead singer, Paul Westerberg, to prove her loyalty.

  Home is in the Pacific Northwest where she lives with four special needs dogs, one cat (who’s busy plotting the demise of the dogs), and a husband (BW) who has the patience and tolerance of a saint. And, lest she forget, Denise also lives with too many to count characters inside her head, who will eventually have their stories told.

  For more about Denise visit her website at: www.DeniseWells.com

  Or follow her on any of the social media sites below.

  Also by Denise Wells

  LOVE IN SAN SOLOMAN (complete series - suspenseful/emotional romantic comedies)

  Love Undecided, Love in San Soloman, One

  Love Undiscovered, Love in San Soloman, Two

  Love Unforgettable, Love in San Soloman, Three

  Love Unavoidable, Love in San Soloman Four

  Love Resurrected, Love in San Soloman Five

  DIRTY DARLINGS - THE BEGINNING (complete series - suspenseful romantic comedies)

  Dirty Ex-Mas, Dirty Darlings-The Beginning, Book One

  Dirty Daria, Dirty Darlings-The Beginning, Book Two

  Dirty Quinn, Dirty Darlings-The Beginning, Book Three

  Dirty Roxie, Dirty Darlings-The Beginning, Book Four

  DIRTY DARLINGS WORLD - STANDALONES

  Darling Jen, a suspenseful romantic comedy standalone - 2020/2021

  STANDALONES

  Pour Decisions, a romantic comedy novella in the Girl Power Collection - August 31, 2020

  How to Ruin Your Ex’s Wedding, a romantic comedy

  I Heart Mason Cartwright, a romantic comedy

  Rebel without a Claus, a M/M romance novella

  Breaking Dylan, a dark high school “romance”

  ANTHOLOGIES

  LOCKED AND LOVED: An Isolated Romance Collection - Rocks, but no Rolls, a romantic comedy short story

  STORYBOOK PUB - Breezy Like Sunday Morning, a romantic comedy short story

  SUMMER WITH YOU: Summer Shorts - Limited Release

  JUST A LICK - Limited Release

  LOVE LETTERS - Limited Release

  STOCKING STUFFERS - Limited Release

  AUTHOR WORLDS

  Overdrive - A KB Worlds Driven novella - coming 2021

  Untitled - A Samantha Cole Suspenseful Seduction World novella - coming 2021

  Continue reading for a sneak peek of Love Undecided:

  Sneak Peek - Love Undecided

  Prologue

  Kat

  My breath catches when I see him walking up.

  He looks good, as in take him home and keep him in bed all afternoon good.

  I’d asked him to meet me at a newer restaurant we’d not been to before when we were a couple, just so there wouldn’t be any competing memories to mess with our heads.

  Or, just my head.

  Because we can’t be together.

  And it doesn’t matter how bad either of us may want to be.

  Not that I want to be.

  No matter what my bestie, Remi, says. Or how many pictures of Brad I still have hidden in my house.

  We’ve been over since the first time I found out I was dying. And that I’m still alive changes nothing.

  If having a terminal illness has taught me nothing else, it’s definitely taught me that all goodness ends. And most times that end is heinous. I mean, whenever you get too used to goodness, it turns bad. Everybody knows that.

  Well everybody but Brad.

  Because nothing bad ever happens to Brad, at least not until me.

  I’m Brad’s bad.

  “Hey,” he says, softly.

  “Hey.” I don’t really know what else to say past that.

  The server saves me by coming to take our orders; I include a glass of Viognier with mine, Brad raises his eyebrow at me but says nothing. I don’t care; I need some fortification to get through this. The only other thing I’ve done that was this hard was returning his ring when the cancer first came back.

  We play at small talk until the food arrives. I'm gonna need more to drink. Half my wine is already gone.

  So, I bite the proverbial bullet and start the real conversation. “How’s Stacy?”

  His girlfriend.

  He looks at me curiously. “She’s doing well.”

  “And, the two of you are doing well?”

  “Are we doing this again Kat? If so, why?”

  I stay silent, hoping it's a rhetorical question.

  “She’s not you,” he says. “But I guess we’re okay, considering.”

  “Considering?”

  “Oh, come on.” He runs his hand over his face and looks at me pointedly. “This is really how we’re going to play this?”

  I look back, hoping I appear innocent.

  He continues, “You know I care about her. She’s a sweet girl.” He sighs loudly. “How’s the guy?”

  “The guy?” I ask.

  “Bauer.”

  Why does he care about Bauer? They don’t even like each other.

  “Uh, fine, I guess. Working hard, all that stuff.”

  “And the two of you?” he asks.

  “The two of us?”

  “This is how we are playing it, right? You ask about Stacy, I ask about Bauer.”

  “Okay…”

  “So, the two of you are well? You’re happy?”

  As in how we work as partners when I consult for the SSPD in solving crimes?

  “Sure,” I say, shrugging. “I mean he’s smart and thorough. And he knows what he’s doing, which is nice.”

  He raises his sunglasses, purposefully I’m sure so I can melt in his eyes.

  “Kat, I don’t want it to be like this. Fuck. You know I’m still in love with you. I’m just hoping you’ll eventually realize you’re still in love with me too.”

  I have realized that, but I’m not about to admit it to him.

  “Let’s be real, he will never be as good for you as I am,” he says.

  “Why would—”

  “Let me finish,” he says. “No one will be as good for you as I am. You don’t belong with him. The same way I don’t belong with Stacy.”

  “But, I’m not—”

  He interrupts me again, telling me all his reasons for feeling how he does. For why he’s right and I’m wrong.

  I wait for a break in his tirade, and gulp the rest of my wine, signaling the server for another, fully prepared to keep drinking until I have to pour myself into an Uber.

  Because now is when I break his heart.

  Again.

  “You need to let me go,” I tell him. “Even
if you aren't with Stacy, we won’t work. I can’t be with you. Your mom died from the same fucking disease I have, I can’t be with anyone who has seen me how you have.”

  He just needs to move on with his life. Get married, have babies, coach little league, and host Sunday barbecues.

  I feel the tears streak down my face. I look away from him toward the water, hoping the ocean breeze will blow them dry before he sees them.

  But I keep talking. “I can’t ask you to commit yourself to a life of caretaking and hoping for miracles. To living in constant anticipation of when it will resurface and how, always seeing me as a helpless, weakened victim, with one foot in the grave. That is no way for you to live.”

  “Fuck, Kat.” He leans forward again, resting his forearms on the table, the muscles in his arms flexing.

  “Baby, don’t cry.” He reaches across the table and cups my face, using his thumb to wipe away the tears.

  I blow my nose in my napkin; it makes one of those goose-like honking noises and I laugh.

  Then I can’t stop.

  I’m laughing and crying so hard I have to scoot my chair out and bend over. Brad comes around to my side of the table and kneels in front of me and pulls me into his arms. One hand strokes my back while the other strokes my hair and he murmurs comforting words in my ear.

  When I stop, he leans back, his hands on either side of my face.

  “God, you’re beautiful.” The look in his eyes so sincere, I lose myself in them.

  Again.

  Before I realize what’s happening, we’ve leaned in and are kissing.

  I’m not sure if I kissed him or if he kissed me, but it feels amazing. He groans and deepens the kiss, one hand coming around the back of my head, keeping it in place. His tongue plunging, his lips commanding, the combination intoxicating.