I Stopped Waiting For You
For Founders' Day, Julian Whitmore said he was finally taking me home to meet his family.
I spent three months preparing. Then I waited an hour outside his front door.
By the time I made it inside, his mother was already holding the hand of a girl in a fitted red dress.
"This is Camille," she announced to the room, beaming. "Julian's fiancée. The wedding's set for Thanksgiving."
I looked at Julian.
He kept his head down. He didn't deny it.
All through dinner, he and Camille Sinclair accepted toast after toast of congratulations, while the butler led me in through the side door and sat me at a table in the corner — without so much as a place setting.
Three rounds of drinks in, he texted me: [Wait for me. I'll fix this.]
I sent back three words: [Congratulations to you.]