The plan was fool proof.
I picked up the dress – white lace and satin – and called the priest, well, six. That’s how many it took before I found a priest rogue enough to perform a Catholic ceremony in the dead of night.
All the man had to do was show up.
His bike leaned politely against the building as always. My knock echoed loudly only angering me more.
“Can I help you?” I stared at the woman peeking over his shoulder. “My wife and I were just leaving.” Rage burned through me.
That’s the last thing I remember.
Word Count: 98
Friday Fictioneers, many thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Click the link to read more.
Kelley Farrell 
This sounds like a painfully rude awakening. Good one.
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Indeed! Thank you Sandra
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He was married! Good riddance. Thank your lucky stars.
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Thank goodness he showed his true colors. Thank you for reading!
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I think the clandestine middle of the night ceremony should have been a clue that something wasn’t quite right. Love only conquers all, including logic and blinds us from the obvious.
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Love is blind, or maybe it should be love is oblivious. Thank you for reading.
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Oblivious, good description. It’s like all other senses melt away.
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I think she’s been had. All the plans for nothing.
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It seems so. Thank you!
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Oh the poor fool! I say fool because probably all their encounters were “on the side” so to speak… which spells trouble. Was an experience to make her all the wiser…
Good one, Kelley!
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Very true, thanks for reading!
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Jerk! Glad she discovered what he really was before she made any further commitment, but I hope she didn’t commit murder in her rage!
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Going to jail seems like a pretty big commitment too. Thank you!
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