Garcia

“What?” Wyatt said, eyes going wide like someone had just rewired his brain.

“I…I think I misheard something,” Eleanor said slowly, eyes narrowing. “Gracia, you just said this bastard is gay. I think what you meant was, he’s a bastard, not—”

“No.” I cut in, my voice bitter. “You heard right.”

I turned to face them fully, shoulders square, voice rising so the entire room could hear if they wanted.

“The man I was supposed to marry in the next few days likes men. And I caught him—” I motioned toward Mark without even looking at him, “with him in bed moaning a lot.”

I heard someone mutter near...