One month later…
I can hardly contain myself as I pull up to the shop in my new beater. It’s not even close to the Bentley, but I don’t care. In fact, I kind of like it. The passenger side window sticks, so I’ve made sure to not let anybody roll it down, and it doesn’t have Bluetooth for my phone, but Vincent assured me the engine is solid and the AC is so cold it almost makes snow. But the car is the smallest, most inconsequential change that I’ve gone through in the last month.
I told Ruth I wasn’t going to marry Bradley. Her response was about what I expected; first, she got indignant and asked me if I was crazy, then she tried to be nice and persuade me that being taken care of by him and his money would be best for me. Then when she saw I wasn’t going to budge, she threw a hissy fit
