You can change the width of the story text shown below:
Use how much percent of the screen width?
Options: Plain text or PDF (fanclub only!) version | Mark story | Mark author
Don't forget to vote for this story, in the yellow voting box below the story!
Lisa laid on her bed, letting the sunlight warm her skin. Something about the way it streamed through the window, made soft by her billowing curtains, made everything feel fresh and clean.
"A new start," she whispered to herself, taking a moment to drink in the silence. There wouldn't be much more of that left; it was almost the big day.
Turning her head to the left, she saw her wedding dress hanging on the closet door. It was her dream dress, the one she didn't get the first time around.
Scolding herself for thinking of her first wedding, she swung her legs around and sat up, looking at it. The dress felt like a symbol, of where she'd been, and where she was going.
Standing to move towards it - she needed to try it on one more time, just to be sure - she thought back over all she'd been through.
Lisa met her first husband just after high school. She'd never been so obsessed with anyone; something about him was intoxicating. Had she loved it? It was hard to say. Before she could figure it out, she'd turned up pregnant, and after that, things sort of took on a life of their own. Their parents had insisted they get married before the baby arrived, and so they had.
No time for nice dresses or reception halls, she'd gotten married in a dress she already owned, with their hastily-planned reception held at a local bar. It seemed fun at the time. She even lied to herself and said she didn't need tradition, only him.
But looking back, she knew. She always knew. She suspected he was cheating on her almost immediately, and he did nothing to dissuade her worries. Still, she was a good girl, and she was going to make it work.
And she had. For over a decade, she stayed quiet when he didn't come home at night. When he yelled at her. When he didn't give a shit about anything.
Until the morning he arrived in their doorway, disheveled, and told her he'd gotten some girl pregnant. Why are the awful men always so fertile?
Something in her snapped that morning. She threw him out, and within a week, she'd filed for divorce. It was over, not that he did much to change her mind.
Nothing about them had ever worked, she thought to herself. Well, almost nothing.
Not like Blake. He was a little older, his kids grown, but he was an adult. He owned a successful business, he took care of his family, he was everything she missed the first time around.
He was even paying for the dream wedding she never had. Everyone was playing along, giving her the day of her dreams. The bachelorette weekend. The wedding showers. The white dress.
Pulling it up her slender body, she slipped the straps over her shoulders. The lace, with a deep V cut down almost to her navel, covered her breasts perfectly, only suggesting their size. The billowing skirt swayed as she moved. Looking in the mirror, she thought she looked like an angel.
The doorbell rang.
Scowling, grabbed her phone off her dresser, pulling up the doorbell camera.
It was her first husband.
"Fuck," she muttered, setting the phone back down. She was surprised he actually showed up; it wasn't like him. She was forcing him to take their three kids for two weeks while she and Blake enjoyed their
Click here to read the rest of this story (310 more lines)
Options: Plain text or
PDF (
fanclub only!) version for easy saving or printing
ESmail: Click here to send a private message to elguapo (with ESmail, the site's internal message system)
Profile for elguapo, incl. 86 stories
Add this author to your favorite author list
Add this story to your favorite story list
Send this story to me through email
Recommend stories for further reading
