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Chapter 8

But lately I’d been wondering what would happen if I just didn’t show up. What if I just gave Clay a big “fuck you” and went to see a movie or something instead of going to his wedding? He’d be hurt and angry and probably never speak to me again.

No, knowing Clay, he’d come to my house and confront me if I was a no-show. We’d fight and probably come to blows over the whole thing. We’d never fought physically while we were together, thank God, but we’d certainly come close, so I knew it was a possibility. And Clay would kick my ass, too. I was pretty sure of that. Even though I beat him by a few inches in height, he knew how to fight. Growing up in the South with two older brothers, he’d learned how to defend himself. As an only child growing up in suburban Chicago, I had not.