Jane’s POV
I stormed out of that cursed wedding reception, my mascara-streaked tears making me look like some tragic soap opera star. My high heels nearly snapped as I shoved past tables, knocked over two champagne glasses, and sent a poor waiter stumbling.
“Hey, lady! Watch it!” some old hag shrieked at me, clutching her pearls like I was a pickpocket.
I spun around, eyes wild, still sobbing like my heart was breaking into a thousand glittery pieces. I rolled my eyes so hard. “Mind your damn business, grandma!” I snapped, before storming off again, my dramatic wails echoing across the garden.
Ugh. Could this day get any worse?
I made it outside. My poor car was parked a little far, but I dragged my broken heart and aching body over to it.
I yanked the car door open and flung myself
