Chapter 6: Divorce and One Last Lie
Softly, I said, "Okay."
Savannah froze. Before she could react, I continued, "Savannah, let's get a divorce."
Her face darkened—so fast I thought she'd slap me.
She was so mad, she actually laughed. "Dylan Brooks, you've got some nerve!"
"Don't come crawling back later, begging like a little lapdog!"
She grabbed her phone on the way out, turning on speaker: "Send me the address again, I'm coming."
The phone blasted club music and that guy's voice: "Hurry up, my buddy's heard of you—he likes you too. We can have a threesome…"
Savannah left without looking back.
The door slammed shut in my face again.
The wedding photo on the wall shook from the force.
The stunning bride and her not-bad-looking, heavily filtered groom stood arm in arm, looking sweet.
The groom gazed at the bride with love in his eyes. The bride stared at the camera, calm and a little impatient.
No matter how you looked at it, we didn't match.
Good thing it was finally over.
I let out a long breath and completely relaxed.
Actually, there's one more thing I lied to Savannah about.
My trip isn't three days.
It's three years.
I guess even honest guys get to keep one secret, now and then. As I stared at the wedding photo, the corners of my mouth twitched into a smile—small, but real. Maybe it was relief. Maybe it was hope. Maybe, finally, it was the start of being honest with myself.













