My Cheating Groom's Fatal Mistake

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My best friend said she's my boyfriend's mother-in-law.

Take good care of her, she said, and that was the same as taking good care of me.

Even at our wedding, when she got drunk.

Barnaby Fox left me alone at the reception and gave me that helpless little smile as he explained. "Baby, I have to get her home and make sure she's okay. Otherwise she'll sober up tomorrow and there's no telling what kind of scene she'll make."

He didn't wait for me to answer. He already had her in his arms, drunk, and then they were gone.

Five years together, and this was the ninety-ninth time I'd watched him walk away for her.

The hundredth time, I didn't want to watch anymore.

This marriage, I didn't want anymore either.

……

I stood in my wedding dress outside the hotel, the night wind lifting the hem of my skirt.

My phone buzzed. A message from Barnaby: *Baby, I'll drop her off and come straight back. Wait for me.*

I didn't reply.

The makeup artist jogged over and asked me carefully, "The bride… when is the groom coming back? The photography team is still waiting. They said the family portrait hasn't been taken yet."

"We're not taking it," I said.

"Huh?"

I took off my veil, folded it, and handed it to her. "Thank you for your work. I'll settle today's bill in full. You can all go home."

The makeup artist opened her mouth, then in the end said nothing.

I went back into the banquet hall. Most of the guests had already left, and my mother was helping clear things away.

When she saw me come in alone, her face changed at once. "Where's Barnaby?"

"He took Sara Swanson home."

My mother's hand stopped. Then she set the box of wedding candy down hard on the table.

She didn't say anything, but the anger and the ache were in that one motion.

"Mom."

I walked over. My voice was very calm. "I want a divorce."

When I said those words, I thought I would cry.

But I didn't. Inside I was strangely calm, as if I'd finally set down something very, very heavy.

My mother's eyes went red. She held my hand. "You've thought it through? You only registered the marriage yesterday."

"I've thought it through."

She didn't try to talk me out of it. She just squeezed my hand hard. "If you've thought it through, that's enough. Mom's behind you."

Barnaby didn't come back until three in the morning.

When he pushed open the bedroom door and saw me still sitting on the edge of the bed, he froze for a second, then gave me that apologetic smile I'd seen countless times. "Baby, why aren't you asleep? I'm sorry. Sara threw up all over herself, I spent half the night cleaning up at her place—"

"Barnaby."

I cut him off. "Let's get divorced."

The smile on his face froze instantly.

"What did you say?"

I looked at him and said it word by word.

"I said, let's get divorced."

He came over quickly, crouched in front of me, took my hands. "Baby, are you angry? I know today was my fault. Leaving the bride behind at the wedding really was too much. But Sara had too much to drink, and you know how she gets. I couldn't just leave her—"

I let out a small laugh. "You don't have to explain to me. She's your future mother-in-law, after all. If you don't look after her, who will?"

Barnaby's face shifted. "Baby, don't talk like that."

I gave a cold laugh and looked at him. "Am I wrong? Back when we first got together, she tossed off that line about being your future mother-in-law, said taking care of her was the same as taking care of me. Five years together, and you've taken better care of her than of me. You dropped me at every turn to go look after her."

Barnaby frowned. "When did I ever—"

"The first time was our first anniversary. She said she'd just been dumped, and you got up and left without a word, and let me finish that dinner alone."

"The second time was my birthday. She said she had a fever, and you didn't say anything, just grabbed your coat and rushed out."

"The third time, you'd promised to come to the concert with me. Right before we boarded, she said a pipe had burst at her place, and you left me standing at the airport and ran off. I called you, you didn't pick up. I texted you, you didn't reply."

I laid them out one by one, my tone as flat as if I were reading off a menu.

"The twelfth time, I had acute gastroenteritis. On the way to the hospital you got a call from her, she said she was in a bad mood and wanted to drink, and you left me at the emergency room door and turned around and left. The eighteenth time, my grandmother died. She said the rain and thunder gave her nightmares and she was scared, so you turned around and went to her place and stayed with her till dawn. The thirty-seventh time, the day of our engagement, she said her heels were rubbing her feet, so you carried her two miles to buy bandages and left me alone at the engagement banquet."

Barnaby's face grew paler and paler.

"The fifty-eighth time, she said she was moving, and you spent a whole day helping her move. The seventy-second time, my promotion celebration, you were an hour and a half late, because she wanted the cannoli from that bakery on the West Side, and you drove halfway across the city to get them for her."

"The ninety-ninth time." I looked at him, word by word. "The day I fell and lost the baby."

Barnaby's head snapped up.

"Where were you?" I asked.

He didn't speak.

I said it word by word.

"You were at Sara's, clipping her cat's nails."