THAT MAN 5 (The Wedding Story-Part 2) Read Online Free PDF

my vision, and twice I almost got into a major auto accident. The ache in my heart was so great I thought I might have a coronary. First, Bradley. Now, Blake. But the pain this time was exponentially worse. Unbearable. I needed windshield wipers to wipe my tears away.
    Fortunately, Blake’s condo was not far from the restaurant, and traffic along Wilshire Boulevard was light. I got there in no time. I valeted my car, skirted past the doorman, and hurried upstairs. I made a couple of calls, and then collapsed onto the couch. I could no longer share Blake’s bed. It was already ancient history. Tomorrow, I would be gone.
    You chose her instead of me.

Chapter 7
    Blake
    “F uck,” I heard myself murmur. Fuck, fuck, fuck .
    My head was spinning; my mouth felt like the Mohave Desert, and nausea consumed me. Slowly, I peeled my eyes open—well to be honest, only one. It took me several long, nauseating moments to realize where I was. I was in my Greystone fuck pad, sprawled naked on my bed. I had no fucking idea how I’d gotten here, and the shitfaced way I felt didn’t make remembering any easier. I glanced at my watch. Squinting with the one opened eye, I made out the time. It was six o’clock. Except in my windowless suite, I had no idea if it was six in the morning or the evening.
    The bed was a rumpled mess with the covers half off, and I noticed my clothes were strewn on the floor. How did they get there? How did I get here? I hadn’t been back to my fuck pad since the time I’d fucked Jennifer at the office Christmas party. And that was almost a year ago.
    I crawled out of bed. In my sorry state, I could barely stand up. My legs felt like Jell-O and another tidal wave of nausea descended on me. Close to passing out, I collapsed onto the floor and crawled on my hands and knees to the adjacent bathroom. Frankly, I wasn’t sure I’d make it to the toilet in time, but thank fucking God I did. Perched on my knees, I puked my guts out until my throat burned and my insides were torn. Believe it or not, I actually felt a little better. And despite my headache the size of Texas, a little more clear-headed. But I still couldn’t piece together how I’d gotten here or what had happened in the last twenty-four hours.
    I managed to get to my feet and noticed my cock was flaccid. I’d never woken up without a big boner. Poor Mr. Burns was as wasted and confused as I was. This was bad. Really bad. I quickly brushed my teeth and then staggered out of the bathroom after passing on a hot shower. I didn’t think I was steady enough. One glance in the bathroom mirror confirmed that. I looked like death warmed over. Like someone had painted me with chalk and left me in Death Valley to die. Roadkill.
    Back in my fuck pad, I gathered up my suit in slo-mo. I slipped on my dress shirt first, unable to button it with my shaky hands. Then the slacks and jacket. At last minute, I threw my tie around my neck. In a moment of panic, I slipped my hand into my slacks pocket where I kept my wallet and cell phone. To my relief, both were there. I pulled out my cell phone, and immediately checked my texts, e-mails, and phone messages. There were dozens. All from one person. My Jen—wondering where I was and asking me to call her. I immediately speed-dialed her number, but there was no response. I texted her and e-mailed her. Zilch again. Maybe it was six o’clock in the morning and she was still sleeping. And then an unnerving thought punched me in the gut—I hadn’t gone home to her. What could she be thinking?
    Without warning, my cell phone died on me. I stared at it blankly. What did it matter?
    I didn’t have an explanation.

Chapter 8
    Jennifer
    M y sleep was tearful and restless. I don’t know why I bothered. I fumbled for my cell phone, which was tucked under my pillow, and glanced at the screen. It was going on five a.m. If it weren’t such an ungodly hour, I would have called Libby or Chaz or even my parents. I had the burning