Exposing The Groom, page 1
EXposing The Groom
The EX Files
by Rachel Van Dyken
www.rachelvandykenauthor.com
Copyright © 2023 RACHEL VAN DYKEN®
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
EXPOSING THE GROOM
Copyright © 2023 RACHEL VAN DYKEN®
ISBN: 978-1-957700-28-1
Edited by Kay Springsteen and Jill Sava
Cover & Interior Design & Illustration by Jill Sava, Love Affair With Fiction
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title Page
A Note On Content
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Epilogue
Want More RVD?
Caught You!
Acknowledgments
About The Author
Also by Rachel Van Dyken
A NOTE ON CONTENT
I know that some of you like to know if there is anything in a book that may be difficult for you to read.
Some real-life issues are discussed/portrayed within these pages.
If you would like to see what they are, please click HERE
Or scan the QR Code
As always, thank you for reading!
Hugs, RVD
DEDICATION
To all my readers who’ve waited wayyyyy too long for another RomCom.
PROLOGUE
Scarlett
It will, one hundred percent, go down as the most viral moment of my life—not on purpose. I think it was pure uncontrollable rage that pushed me down the aisle. My smile is perfection, cameras flash from all angles blinding me as I walk. Everyone stares like I am living the absolute dream. I even believed it for a few seconds.
He smiles at me, my fiancé Rob—what kind of name is Rob anyway? The things that I remember are always dumb ones, like Rob was never the name of the hot guy in college, at least give me a Zane or a Jesse, but no, I chose Rob.
Rob is safe.
Rob is secure.
Rob is boring.
But boring is at least predictable, right?
Wrong.
So. Wrong.
I used to date Adrians and Dukes—Adrian was the one you never brought home to your parents in case they disown you for life because he was constantly causing trouble in school, and Duke, well, he was actually British and so hot I introduced myself as Scarwet when I met him; he thought I did it on purpose. I’ve never been more mortified. I guess there’s always room for more embarrassing moments. Lucky me.
Rob was in law school, came from money, had sandy brown hair, crystal blue eyes, a sharp jawline, and no joke, a country club membership at age fifteen. The guy was probably born with golf clubs in his hands. But I digress.
I’d like to point out I never ever thought about cheating on him, not once.
Not even when I got tired of missionary and asked if he’d pull my hair only to have him say he was concerned that something was wrong with me.
“Women belong in a certain place, Scar, and you’re so classy, how could I possibly do that to you? Let me just hold you, you’re my treasure.”
Oh yeah, he’d said treasure, and the idiot that I am, I melted like, OMG this guy is the best, while in the back of my head, I was like but what’s so bad with being a little dirty? A little bad like I was with the other boyfriends? And who the hell uses the word treasure? Is my hoo-ha a blushing flower on top of it?
He’d proposed months after we both graduated college, and I just let both moms take over what was supposed to be the wedding of the century between two of Seattle’s richest and most elite families—which by the way, mine was rising on the way to the top and it was made even easier when the great Rob Danish the Third gave us instant access to his lifestyle.
I still remember going into the Everett Country Club and nearly passing out after using the bathroom. It had perfume, like actual perfume for you to spray down your shirt so your boobs smell like heaven. And not the Walgreens brand I kept grabbing because it was convenient and, in my opinion, smelled identical. No, they had Gucci, Prada—they had everything and mints that probably cost more than my Nordstrom Rack purse, my parents were worth a lot of money but they always kept us humble and never really exposed us to the other side of life.
I take another step toward Rob.
He smiles like I am his world, his eyes blurry with tears.
My heart sinks, knowing that it is all a lie.
I’d been lying in bed all night staring up at the fancy ceiling with its intricate designs and moldings and wondering if I could really do it.
My family will be disappointed if I don’t. This is a whole new world for us. It opened doors that we could have never possibly dreamed of, despite our success. Plus, my dad has a startup that Rob’s family already funded.
My sister is obsessed with her new big “bro.”
He calls her Sprite and buys her expensive purses, so of course she loves him.
Should have seen that coming when he asked what kind of dog I wanted to adopt in order to prepare for the brood we would have later. Yeah, he said that to my face while she was walking around with a Birkin bag, but according to him, it was refreshing that I didn’t need those things.
Listen, though, just because I don’t need them, doesn’t mean I don’t want them or would say no to an exclusive Hermes scarf just so I could rub it up and down my body. That’s just science!
Tears flow down my cheeks as I take another two steps toward my father at the end of the aisle. He’s softly crying, his tears mixing in with his trim white beard. He’s wearing a black suit with a gray vest and tie. He looks so handsome that I feel even more sick. He’s just… so proud, but he has no idea where my thoughts are. Mom’s standing proud in her chic silver gown and matching tuxedo jacket, and she already has the tissues out, dabbing lightly so as to not mess up her makeup.
Everything looks like a fairy tale. A dream come true. My dress is pure silk with a shorter lace train in an intricate Beauty and the Beast design on the back because Rob remembered how much I love books. He had the designer flown in from Paris to hand deliver the surprise.
My fairy tale, and the first expensive gift he ever gave me. Truly, he went all out, he always goes all out.
How did this happen, then?
More tears flow. My makeup is going to start streaking if I don’t do something, but all I can do is stare straight ahead and see flashes of my future.
Perfection.
With this man by my side.
This man who’s currently smiling at me like I’m the Belle to his Beast turned Prince.
Maybe I watched too much Disney growing up.
Because I fell.
I fell so hard.
It doesn’t matter that the sex is sometimes boring because he is always there for me, he listens to me, truly listens. He cares, and as pretentious as he can sometimes be, he always apologizes and asks for my take on things.
Everything he gave me, I took for face value—when I shouldn’t have.
Tale as old as time, am I right?
I can still see the text messages and the way my phone burned through my palm as I read through them, saw picture and video proof and just numbly got up and said I was calling it a night at my rehearsal dinner.
He’ll never know all the goodbyes I rehearsed in my head, nor will he ever understand how hard it’s going to be.
Stay or go.
My heart says stay.
My brain says run.
I wish I had Nikes on instead of shoes that cost more than my first car.
The music stops as my dad turns to me and smiles, his eyes crinkle, his teeth are straight and white, he literally cannot stop smiling at me as tears collect in his beard. I want to ask for help.
I feel so trapped I can’t breathe.
And then the clenched, “I’m so proud of you, baby.”
Another hot tear runs down my cheek and falls onto the gorgeous bouquet of white roses.
How perfectly pretty.
“Love you, Dad,” I whisper.
He frowns a bit, then forces his smile back and leans in, whispering, “Are you okay?”
My eyes search his. He
He doesn’t so much as hesitate before he whispers, “You’re mine.”
Strange, how people who truly love you and value you give you strength you never knew you were lacking until that moment in time.
“Who gives this woman?” the priest asks, clearing his throat. I look up. I know that voice; I’ve heard it say some very dirty things. It’s not the time to ask my dad why we hired my ex.
Adrian.
Who’s smirking down at me in a way that reminds me of more than his voice. I almost yell that God sees all, but I don’t. His eyes narrow in on me, then on the groom like he’s trying to make the calculations. Is she in love? Or did she just sell out?
Maybe, if I was being honest with myself, it was a little bit of both at the time. It was safe. It was exciting and new, and he was kind and I’d dated enough jerks to last a lifetime.
Poor Adrian has no idea the hell I’m about to unleash. I slowly shake my head at him and lower my chin. His eyes narrow even further as my dad’s boisterous voice fills the church. “Her mother and I do!”
I flinch.
Rob comes over and reaches for my hand, prying me away from my father. He even shakes my dad’s hand with both of his, as if to show that he’s this dominant thing when he’s literally afraid of taking me against a wall.
I’m suddenly even more angry.
I’d planned for this moment.
I crumple the paper in my left hand, and as we go through the ceremony and get ready to say our vows, Rob turns to me. “I think about you every day, Scar.” His crystal blue eyes tear up. “You’re my everything, you’re perfect, my best friend, everything I’ve looked for in a life partner. Remember the time we adopted that dog with the missing leg, and you said that sometimes you feel like something is missing in you? I think that something was me, I’m that something, we complete each other—”
The actual hell? Is he comparing me to Samson? My favorite and only dog that I will sic on him if he doesn’t stop moving his mouth. Oh God, does he have spinach in his teeth? Am I just imagining horrible things so I feel better?
“You’re my little Bun Bun.”
And he just called me our shared dog’s nickname.
At our wedding.
In front of five hundred friends and my ex. Cheers, everyone.
“So friendly, so willing to do anything to please, and so kind to everyone you meet. I feel like that’s where our story started, and this is where it ends, with forever, us together forever. All because you said yes to become the future Mrs. Danish.”
He must see something like murder flicker in my eyes because he momentarily drops my hands and then picks them up again. “I love you.”
I grit my teeth.
“Scarlett?” Adrian looks over at me, his eyes amused. I mean, at least try to hide it! “You can read your vows now.”
“Can I face the audience? It’s really important they understand the depth of my love for Rob.” I smile sweetly, which also causes Adrian’s expression to fall like he knows there will be carnage and I will be bringing it.
“Oh, um sure,” Adrian says under his breath. “I think that might be a blessing for a lot of people.” Adrian clasps his hands together like he is about to start praying. I turn from Rob and smile at the crowd.
Everyone’s smiling right back. I even get a few thumbs up and a hell of a lot of phones held high in the air as if to say, wow happy moment, do your thing, I’m here to record it all!
Oh. I. Will.
I unfold the small paper with perfectly manicured and trembling hands and started to read.
“Rob…” I look back at him quickly. “…this is for you. These words, were so meaningful, they really helped change my life, so I want to say thank you for being so transparent…”
He frowns briefly and says, “That’s beautiful, thank you—”
“Damn, I wish my fiancé knew how to act in bed,” I say in a loud voice, while the crowd gasps. I keep reading. “You’re so hot. Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out. She’s just a wife, she’s not like a mistress. You’re so hot, so sexy. Can you come over tonight? Let me send you a dick pick. I know you love those, though let’s be honest, it doesn’t even fit in the phone, ha-ha.”
I keep reading even though Rob reaches for me.
I jerk away from him just as I hear Adrian mutter, “God be with you, Amen.” Under his breath.
“She doesn’t know. Come on, she majored in communications, you don’t even need college textbooks to ace those classes, plus she looks good and people love her. She never even argues with me, also you know how your dad has networked with a lot of people our company wants to work with. Why do you think I like your backbone? You should come over; she’s gone for the next hour.” Tears stream down my cheeks. “No, I changed the sheets.” My voice cracks on that one. They were sleeping in our bed. Our bed. “She’ll never know you were even here. I even told the maid.” I choke up again. “My mom knows, she caught me texting you on the other phone, but don’t worry, baby, baby, I’ll break up with her once we’re together for a bit and say she wasn’t who I thought she was. Then I’ll marry you, my true love.” I start full on sobbing, hot tears fall like molten lava down my face. “My one and only love.” I shake. “My little Addison.”
My. Little. Sister.
I drop the paper onto the floor and turn to him. His face is so pale he looks sick, his mom is bawling, and his dad’s face is completely red. He jumps to his feet.
I shake my head. I can’t even say any words, so I turn back toward the crowd, hold my head high and say, “Let’s not waste a good party, I’ll be at the reception drinking. Oh, and Addison…” I glare at my stunned sister, my maid of honor, in her beautiful flowing gold dress standing by my side, black mascara sliding down her cheeks. I hand her the bouquet. “Your groom’s waiting.”
I don’t look back.
I walk with my head held high, straight to the bar at the reception right outside the venue and across the hall of the Grand Hotel. I order a double shot of Jack Daniels and then sit to watch the band rehearse.
Killian Stone is the infamous lead singer.
He’s beautiful with wavy messy caramel-colored hair and green eyes that people always speculate are fake.
They’re finishing up their soundcheck. The drummer and other guitarist get up and walk off stage. But the pop rock god is still there, strumming something, smiling down at his instrument.
I toss back my drink and walk toward him, stopping right in front of the stage.
He’s lost in his strumming, then he stops and looks down at me. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting married? I mean, you’re in a…” He frowns. “…beautiful wedding dress. What happened, get cold feet?” He winks.
“Sing me a song,” I answer, and then I burst into tears.
And that’s how I went viral.
Not from my vows, which were spectacularly captured on TikTok, but because I begged one of the biggest singers in the world to sing.
And he did.
While holding my hand.
CHAPTER ONE
Killian
I don’t really know what to do. She’s in a fucking wedding dress standing in front of me bawling her eyes out, and all I can think is, her tears, they’re so pretty, just like her skin, her dress. Is the guy insane? What the hell is going on? I was paid to play for what was supposed to be the biggest wedding of the year in Seattle, and everyone seems to be missing.
More tears roll down her cheeks.
They aren’t the normal angry tears.
They’re sad.
They hold something I want to grasp in my hand, something that makes me feel. I’ve been stuck in a rut for over two years, and this rich princess, at her own wedding, has tears for me, at least it feels that way even though I know they’re for her.
I still want to keep them though.
I reach down and slide my finger over her left cheek. She looks up at me, deep brown eyes, slim nose, firm jaw, and long lashes, and pretty brown hair.
“Sing for me.” Her voice is lower than I expect; it moves me, it harmonizes with my senses in a way I can’t explain. As an artist, that’s not something that typically happens so randomly, and yet I still stare at her. I hold on to her tear as long as I can before it evaporates into thin air.
