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I Did (but I Wouldn't Now)
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I Did (but I Wouldn't Now)

4.2 25
by Cara Lockwood

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Are you ready to rock?

Lily Crandell has always lived in the shadow of her older sister, Lauren, who has a successful career as a wedding planner and a perfect husband and baby boy. Known within her family for being an aimless, impulsive trouble-magnet, Lily finally decides she may as well live up to her reputation: she elopes with new beau and


Are you ready to rock?

Lily Crandell has always lived in the shadow of her older sister, Lauren, who has a successful career as a wedding planner and a perfect husband and baby boy. Known within her family for being an aimless, impulsive trouble-magnet, Lily finally decides she may as well live up to her reputation: she elopes with new beau and would-be rock star Ted Dayton. But just as quickly as his band skyrockets, Lily's marriage crashes and burns. When news of her ex's new love with sultry and silicone-enhanced actress Melanie Slate hits the tabloids, she flees the country.

Hello, London!

Across the pond, Lily shares a flat with an old flame — a commitment-phobic doctor who convinces her that the best prescription for her broken heart is volunteering at the local hospital. Turns out, he's right, as one of the patients, famed soccer star Sean Gates, takes more than a passing interest in Lily's quirky style. But things get complicated when her ex's band starts flying up the British charts. Ted comes to town, the paparazzi camp on her doorstep, and her new fling and old flame both find rumors that Lily and her ex are planning a little reunion tour rather troublesome. Is there a happily ever after at the end of this rocky road?

Editorial Reviews

Kirkus Reviews
The selfish sister of an uptight chick-lit heroine gets her own book. In this sequel to 2003's I Do (But I Don't), which was made into a Lifetime TV movie, Lockwood gives the spotlight to the rebellious and irresponsible sister of Lauren, the wedding planner heroine of the previous book. When this one opens, black sheep Lily Crandell is on a plane to London, having left her rock-star husband Ted Dayton after finding him making out with an actress in a bar. So Lily's hopping across the pond for some R&R with ex-boyfriend Carter (they are now strictly platonic). For Lily, ending it with Ted proved messy: Not only did she knee him in the crotch at the bar, resulting in an assault charge, but afterwards, she charged $40,000 to his credit card, advertised his cell and home phone numbers on a billboard and stole her sister's passport in order to travel. As Lily repeatedly says, "I may, quite possibly, be a bad person." But given the laundry list of unctuous offenses attributed to Ted, it's unlikely that many readers will hold her occasionally deranged behavior against her; chalk it up to the spunk of a good Texas girl. London proves no less drama-ridden than Austin, with Lily landing right in the middle of a psychotic relationship between quailing Carter and his deranged stalker girlfriend (and boss). Although she's trying to act responsibly for once (except for that whole losing-her-sister's-passport thing), by staying well away from Ted and even volunteering at the hospital where Carter works, Lily lands back in the tabloids with little difficulty. Though occasionally bereft of imagination, Lockwood's tale builds nicely to a slapstick finale-a marked improvement over her first time around. Nogreat shakes, but at least this one has bar fights, psycho exes, drug use and a constantly urinating dog to keep up reader morale.

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Gallery Books
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5.20(w) x 8.20(h) x 1.00(d)

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Chapter One


He's got thousands of groupies. And they're all skinnier than you are.

Here's a word of advice: Never marry a rock star.

Sure, date them. Fool around with them. But never fall in love with one. And God forbid, don't, whatever you do, marry one.

You'll end up like me, fleeing your homeland in a coach seat on a one-way trip to London, because only an ocean between you and your ex seems like enough space for comfort, and because you swear if you hear his hit single "Don't Call Me" one more time on the radio/TV/grocery store speakers/iPod commercial you will simply lose it.

Some of my friends have guessed that being married to a rock star would mean that I'd have a life with an endless supply of designer clothing, a minor acting career if I wanted it, and the possibility of living in a castle, throwing dinner parties with celebrity friends like Sting and Trudy. The reality is more like sitting by the phone and trying to get the band's manager to drag Ted (as in Ted Dayton of the Dayton Five) out of whatever is keeping him from answering his own mobile phone. His distractions have a number of names, like "sound check" or "meeting with the label execs," but all I ever hear is "group sex with nubile adolescent groupies." Rock star, after all, is the only profession where a man can come home to his wife with a number of pairs of strange women's underwear and say it's simply a hazard of the office.

I suppose I should have taken it as a sign when Elvis's pants split shortly after he pronounced us man and wife in the Little White Wedding Chapel in Las Vegas two years ago. Our Elvis minister did a leg-spread split after the ceremony in a show of jubilation that ended in him destroying his tight-fitting, white, sequined jumpsuit. I think, under any zodiac forecast, that's a bad omen for a marriage.

Other omens I should have heeded:

  1. Three of his four band mates snickering through the entire processional
  2. Ted doing tequila shots before staggering into the church
  3. The two-to-one odds laid down by the band's manager that our marriage wouldn't last a year
  4. The only nonband witnesses to our union were two groupies named Gwen and Liz, who wore leather miniskirts and fishnet stockings and cried the entire length of the ceremony. Between showing off their cleavage and glaring daggers at me, I'm pretty sure one or both had slept with my husband, even though he did his best to convince me that neither one was his physical type. I would later learn that if you're even remotely attractive, you're Ted's physical type.

Now I realize I've brought this on myself. You don't elope with a narcissist and expect everything to work out. I guess I was blinded by love and by Ted's really well-groomed goatee.

You know him as the slick lead singer Ted Dayton of the Dayton Five — MTV's darlings, winners of an MTV Video Music Award and two Grammys. I know him as the guy who promised to love me forever, but couldn't quite manage sixteen months.

"I'm sorry, I don't usually do this, but do I know you?" the woman in the seat next to me asks. She's got the latest copy of US Weekly magazine open on her lap. The one that I've been trying so hard to avoid. The one with Ted on the cover, straddling a surfboard and locking lips with Melanie Slate, actor/model and People's reigning number three every year in their list of the 50 Most Beautiful People. Under their surfboards the headline reads: "WE'RE IN LOVE!" in big blocky letters.

"I don't think you know me," I say. Even though I know, in that very magazine, on page twenty-seven, under the headline of "Ted Dayton and Melanie's Sizzling Romantic Getaway," there's a small square-inch head shot of me. The one that they always use, the photo snapped outside the Iron Cactus, where I've got a cigarette in my mouth and my mascara is smudged. I look like a lunatic, but only because Ted brings that out in me.

"I could've sworn I've met you somewhere," the woman continues. Absently, she flips a page of her magazine, and there, staring up at me, is Ted hocking Pepsi. He's holding a skateboard and a Pepsi can and has two scantily clad babes in bikinis on either side of him. Since when does Ted skateboard? He's practically allergic to exercise. He once sat and watched four hours of C-SPAN because the remote was across the living room and he was too lazy to get up and get it.

I notice, as usual, that there's no sign of his band mates. I'm sure they're livid. This will only fuel more speculation that Dayton is going solo.

I turn my attention back to my tarot cards. They were a gift from my old neighbor (herself a proud telephone psychic). I don't believe they have any real power, but given my very bad decision making so far, I figure that turning my life over to tarot cards will be an improvement.

Face-up on my tray table is the Ten of Swords, where a dead body has ten swords plunged into it. I'm assuming that represents me.

Before I left Austin, my New Age neighbor told me my third chakra is blocked. Apparently, this is where love and forgiveness lives. My love and forgiveness is stopped up like the tub drain after Ted shaves his chest hair.

I close my eyes and try to focus on my chakras. I'm not sure if I'm feeling them, or if it's just a case of the airplane food not agreeing with me.

I try to visualize my inner self, the one that's supposed to help me get to the "astral plane," but when I try to focus on my inner self meditating, I keep seeing my inner self waling on Ted's outer self. Apparently, my inner self is a bitter single girl with a lot of anger issues.

"Wait," says the woman next to me. "I do know you. You're married to Ted Dayton!"

The woman is holding up the page with the picture of me, waving it in front of my face like a matador with a red cape. As if it's not bad enough that I'm curled up in a window seat in coach just close enough to first class so that I can smell the filet mignon, now I have to suffer US Weekly, too.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lie.

I'll be honest with you. I may, quite possibly, be a bad person. I've done a number of bad things. I may have, although I'll admit nothing in a court of law, publicized Ted's cell and home phone numbers on a billboard on the Sunset Strip, which meant he had to change both after getting a logjam of calls from more than five-thousand fans after the billboard went public on Entertainment Tonight. I also may have charged up to $40,000 on Ted's credit cards at the Four Seasons in Austin, where I stayed after leaving his house.

But honestly. You try having your most embarrassing breakup ever publicized to the two million subscribers of People and US Weekly and see how well you handle it.

So it's no surprise that the last time I saw Ted my knee may have accidentally come into contact with his groin. Actually, I don't think I regret that part all that much. Watching him curled up on the ground, turning purple, gives me a certain satisfaction, I'll admit. Even if he did have me arrested for it.

This brings me back to the part where I'm a bad person.

But it's not every day that you discover your husband shoving his tongue down an actress's throat, right in the open, in an Austin bar where everyone can see. It's not every day that he tells you to go home, that he'll explain later, that it's not what it looks like, even though he has his hand down the back of her pants and she has her hand down the front of his.

I just sort of lost it. The groin kicking that followed (Ted's attorney called it an "assault") was recorded for posterity by a Star photographer, who then turned around and sold his film to every major magazine and tabloid in the nation. Believe me, you don't know embarrassment until your second-grade teacher calls your parents and tells them she saw your picture in a magazine, and that it's obvious that even after all these years you still haven't learned to share.

After my Falling Down Moment, Ted got a restraining order, and my sister, Lauren, pointed out that the only things separating me from being a deranged stalker were really bad hair and a criminal record. I told my sister I wouldn't try to ever kill Ted. First of all, I don't know where to find silver-tipped bullets.

My recent plan of marrying and then divorcing a rock star in the course of a year and a half is what my mom would call a Lilyism, the general term in my family used at my expense for bad decision making. I am not like my sister, who plans out everything in advance (no wonder she is a wedding planner). I don't see the point in making lists or in using Palm Pilots. What's the point of living if you have to plan out everything in advance? Where's the fun in that?

Still, I wonder if my sixteen-month marriage will rank high enough in my ex's life to make his VH-1's episode of Behind the Music. I have a very sudden and strong empathy for all those grainy photos of the premodel first wives in those stories. I have now joined the leagues of the Cynthia Powell Lennons of the world. And I'm only twenty-six.

I feel that old familiar friend Self-Pity making an appearance, and she's got with her a bag of Oreos and a pint of Ben & Jerry's. I tell her she's not welcome because I've already gained five pounds since the divorce, and being a cow is in no way going to help me in my quest to make Ted one day grovel for forgiveness. I want to be slim and svelte when he comes begging to have me back, so my knee will be nice and bony when I give him another kick.

"I guess you had to expect him to cheat," the woman next to me is saying, shaking her head. She is ignoring the fact that I am staring intently at my Ten of Swords card. I put on my sunglasses and try to look like a celebrity who can't be bothered, which is very hard to do in the cramped rows of coach. I realize the sunglasses and distant expression would be far more effective in first class.

"I mean, how are men supposed to resist that kind of temptation? Melanie Slate, I mean — really."

I wish suddenly that I were a Scientologist. Aside from not caring if other people think you're crazy, I read that they believe if they work at it long enough, they can move and control objects with their minds. I concentrate on the head of the woman next to me, willing it to explode.

"You don't look half as bad in person as you do in this picture," the woman says, undaunted.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say. "That's not me."

The woman's head is definitely not exploding. I guess if Scientology really worked, then John Travolta would just will the entire world to go see all of his movies, even Be Cool and Battlefield Earth.

"Oh, I'm quite sure it's you. Look, you've got the same dark rings under your eyes. See?"

I give up on willing her head to explode, and simply nudge the half-full can of Diet Coke off my tray with my elbow. It falls onto the woman's lap, soaking most of the magazine and a bit of her gray sweatpants.

"I am so sorry!" I say, when I'm actually not sorry at all. You see? I told you I'm a bad person.

Ted said as much when I filed for divorce and asked for half of everything he owned. Copyright ©2006 by Cara Lockwood

Meet the Author

Cara Lockwood is also the author of I Do (But I Don't), which was made into a Lifetime movie, as well as Pink Slip Party and Dixieland Sushi, and Every Demon Has His Day, all available from Downtown Press. She was born in Dallas, Texas, and earned a Bachelor's degree in English from the University of Pennsylvania. She has worked as a journalist in Austin, and is now married and living in Chicago. Her husband is not a rock star, but he does play the guitar — poorly.

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I Did (But I Wouldn't Now) 4.2 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 25 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
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It was alright
Lindsie More than 1 year ago
This is a great book that goes with I do (but I don't). This novel follows Lilly Crandell (Lauren's sister; from I do but I don't). She finds herself upset by her husbands cheating ways and takes off to London to her friend Carter's place. Of course, there are a series of hilarious mishaps, but in the end, we see Lilly grow from the "bad person" that she claims to be, to a strong and independent woman. This book is funny, and you'll find yourself loving the characters! A++
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fluff0 More than 1 year ago
i read this book when i was a sophomore in high school and i absolutely loved it. the only thing that i would change about this book is the language that it uses i thought it was a PG to a PG-13 book but more of a rated R or close to a rated R book but if you don't mind this i would recommend reading it. (its about a lady who married a rock star and regrets it)
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NNano More than 1 year ago
This has to be one of my new favorite authors. Lockwood has be laughing out loud with her writing. This story had me laughing, shocked, and just as angry as Lily. It was great. Highly suggest everyone to read this one.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I LOVED IT! it was a great beach read! although personally, i didnt make it to the beach with it.. i really tried, it was more of a Front porch Swing book! Fun, light, and funny.
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Guest More than 1 year ago
I loved this book. I finiched it in a couple of days. It has drama and it's funny at the same time. I recommend it very much.
Guest More than 1 year ago
I absolutely loved this book. I read it in less than 2 days... i didn't read ' I do (but i don't) yet, but I'm definitely going to. After reading this book, Lockwood has become one of my favorite authors.. she's hilarious.. i laughed out loud reading this book.. you HAVE TO READ THIS BOOK!!.. it's worth it!
Guest More than 1 year ago
Another fantastic read by Cara Lockwood! It was nice being in touch with characters that we have read about before, and already had some background information on. Lily didn't fail to entertain in this novel, as she tries to move on from a husband that turned her life (even more) upside down. The characters are loveable and you find yourself rooting for Lily and those who try to cross her. Lauren and Nick making an appearance in this book brings even more humor to this wonderful, funny novel. I couldn't put it down and was up until 2:30am reading it until I was done! It's a must buy!
harstan More than 1 year ago
In Texas Lily Crandell knows she cannot live up to the standards of excellence set by her wedding planner older sister, Lauren (see I DO (BUT I DON'T). Instead she knows that her family considers her a buffoon drifting from one problem to another. Now that Lauren has a son Tyler to add to her perfect-ness, Lily concedes she can never match her sibling. Instead she decides to go with the flow and elopes with her boyfriend wannabe be rock star Ted Dayton, who is great in bed. Quickly Lily concludes that outside of his music and their bed, they have nothing to hold them together. The divorce happens as fast as the marriage occurred.------ Ted bounces immediately back with Lily assuming the silicone actress Melanie Slate contains helps him rebound. Unable to take being the joke of tabloids and the pursuit of paparazzi, Lily leaves Texas for London. In England Lily heeding the advice of her former boyfriend Carter, Lily volunteers at the local hospital. There she meets renowned footballer Sean Gates, who enjoys Lily's eccentric behavior, Texas twang, and most of all, her body. However, Ted and his group are in town for a concert as they have begun to be popular leading the tabloids to wonder who gets Lily?----- This chick lit sequel stars the wild sibling who even when she does the right thing somehow ends up in trouble. The lighthearted story line is fun to follow as Lily swings like a pendulum from one mess into another, but at least is not dealing with sticky fingers. Though inane, fans will enjoy this zany look at celebrities chick lit style.----- Harriet Klausner