My step faltered, and my dad’s grip on my arm tightened.
“Lexie?” he whispered, his tone distressed. If only I could stop time right now and tell him everything…
But I couldn’t. If I did, he’d confront Jeremy’s family and the end result would be disastrous—I felt it in my bones. Deborah would ruin his business, and it would be my fault.
Keep walking. It’ll be over soon
.
“I’m okay.” My whisper was so soft, I wasn’t sure he heard. His gait was rigid in contrast to my weak steps.
At the end of the aisle stood Jeremy in his expensive suit, his groomsmen lined up beside him. Instead of looking at his bride, his gaze was on his shoes. No one else in the room noticed, they were all focused on the bride.
Coward,
that’s what he was. Deborah was evil, sure, but Jeremy? He had no excuse. The day he put the ring on my finger he’d made a promise to us both. The anger tore and clawed at every inch of me, shattering my image of the happy ending I’d imagined for us.
Another step. I caught a flash of red in the sea of suits. Turning to glance at the bright color so out of place, my eyes locked on Leonardo Moss, and electricity zapped through me. He was still the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen. His expression was unreadable, but his gaze was so intense, I blinked in rapid succession behind my veil.
Leo. My first love. My first broken heart.
Why is he here?
His family had been invited, but I hadn’t expected Leo to be among the guests. I tore my gaze from his, and an absurd thought crossed my mind—Leo had worn jeans and a t-shirt
to my wedding
.
The rest of the wedding march was a blur—my dad giving me away, placing my hand in Jeremy’s. The contact sent a wave of revulsion through me. Just as we’d rehearsed, we stood before the priest, and Jeremy’s gaze skittered everywhere but at me, which was fine. I didn’t want to look at him either.
From the corner of my eye, my mom wiped at her eyes and sniffled as the priest spoke about the blessing of marriage.
What blessing?
There was nothing blessed about this union. My lips trembled, and I worried I would break into ugly sobs.
You can’t cry. Don’t cry.
The priest’s words were an unintelligible hum. As empty as the vows I would soon repeat. This marriage was a sham. A joke for Jeremy’s parents to gloat about.
All this money wasted.
The money meant nothing to Jeremy’s family, but my parents weren’t rich. Every penny they’d given me for this wedding had come from years of hard work and savings. Dipping into my own savings hadn’t seemed like a gamble at the time either, but now I regretted every penny I’d thrown away. The entire situation sickened me; I snickered with disgust. The priest blinked in surprise, and I was hit hard by guilt.
This is a lie.
I was lying in church. To my priest. To God. My parents would be so disappointed.
This is wrong.
My head was a jumbled mess. I almost reached up to bang my palm against my temple, but I was too off-balance to do even that. I swayed, and Gen’s hand grasped my waist.
This is it,
I thought,
I really am going to faint.
I sucked in a breath at the same time she whispered in my ear,
“Run, Lex.”
Run
. She was right. I had to. I couldn’t stand here another second longer, not with Jeremy. I lifted my skirts in one swift but shaky motion. Out of the corner of my eye, Gen dropped her flowers and scooped up the train of my wedding gown.
And then we ran like the devil himself chased. Except the devil was a woman, and her name was Deborah.
I wouldn’t put it past her to chase me down and force me to go through with the wedding, so I picked up my pace. My ears thundered with my heartbeat, and I imagined I could hear the shock rolling like waves over the guests as realization dawned—
the bride was on the run.
With every step I took in my ivory heels, a little more weight lifted from my chest.
In the blur of the crowd, a pair of pale green eyes caught hold of mine and wouldn’t let go. Those eyes had lived in my dreams since I was twelve, had lived in my fantasies for just as long. I barely had time to register the smile tugging at the corners of Leo’s lips before I rushed past, straight for the doors and freedom.
Finally, we were outside. Roxanna had run with us, and I was so relieved she had. I needed them both, needed their strength. The three of us shivered in the dreary cold, the sky grey and overcast with the promise of rain. Roxanna raised her fingers to her mouth and whistled at a cab parked down the block.
“Thank God,” Gen said, her gaze on the cab.
We all raised our hands and waved, and I was frantic he might not see us in time. When the cab pulled up to the curb, I almost cried with relief. We rushed the yellow sedan before it made a complete stop. I threw open the back door, scrambling to get inside. Gen and Roxanna both grabbed fistfuls of my gown’s train to shove it inside, then jumped in after me. The three of us breathed heavily, crammed together like sardines in our glittering gowns. The cab smelled of perfume and flowers.
“Go!” Gen yelled at the cab driver, who floored it, throwing us back against the seat.
Once the cab was safely around the corner, I turned my wide-eyed gaze to the women in the cab with me.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. Dread sank into my bones, leaving me colder than Mother Nature ever could.
“Holy crap,” Roxanna breathed in astonishment, “that just happened.”
Gen took my hand and squeezed it, and we all leaned into each other, bumping shoulders, as the cab careened around the corner.
“We were so lucky the cab was here.” I couldn’t stop trembling.
“I called him when Deborah was talking to you in the dressing room.” Gen blinked at my questioning gaze. “I knew you wouldn’t go through with it—you couldn’t.”
“Is someone going to tell me what’s going on?” Roxanna asked, her brown eyes searching ours. She still gripped her bridesmaid’s bouquet in one hand, and the other had a fistful of her bridesmaid’s skirt. “That was crazy in there!”
“I’ll fill you in when we get to my place,” Gen said. “Shit just got serious.”
Two weeks after my almost-wedding, I sat at a corner table at Decadence, a dessert and drink bar in the historic Haymarket district in downtown Lincoln, Nebraska. The small, two room brick-walled bar with its funky artwork and dim lights was filled with soft music and laughter. I wasn’t even sure why I’d agreed to come. I’d been walking around Gen’s apartment like a zombie, wearing sweatpants and drinking coffee like an addiction rehab patient. Going out tonight was her idea; she’d insisted on it.
Hiding out with my wounded heart was a new hobby of sorts, but I didn’t cry. I hadn’t shed one single tear since the first night. Even when the tears burned into the backs of my eyelids, begging for release, I didn’t cry. I wouldn’t let myself. Not for him. Not for the “us” I now realized must never have existed.
Because of Gerard’s Senate campaign, and because the Buchanans were such an influential family in the city, the media had dubbed the incident a political wedding scandal. The runaway bride had even made the front page of the Sunday newspaper. Every time I stepped out in public, people’s stares burned a hole in my back. You’d think I was some sort of celebrity instead of the owner of a small bridal boutique. For the last two weeks, my phone rang all day long, every day—at home, at the boutique, at my parents’ home. Reporters wanted a sound bite from the runaway bride and her family. Was my family shocked over what happened? Had they known of my doubts about the marriage? What was my family’s relationship like with the Buchanans?
Being dubbed the city’s most shocking wedding scandal hadn’t been one of the repercussions I’d considered. All I’d wanted was to get as far away as I could from Jeremy and his family. My parents still didn’t know the details, but they supported my decision anyway. They could have been angry and embarrassed I’d run out at the last minute. Instead, they’d wrapped me in their arms and told me they were happy I’d chosen to listen to my heart. I had a feeling they were relieved I wasn’t marrying into Jeremy’s family, especially after the engagement party earlier this summer. I shook my head at the memory—there’d been no time to enjoy the cake because most of it had ended up smashed into hair and smeared on the floor of the banquet hall. And then Catherine had gone into labor, and we Goreckis made an exit fit for the movies.
Deborah hadn’t won any brownie points with my parents at the engagement party. I wasn’t sure what my parents would do if they found out about the ultimatum Jeremy’s parents had posed on my wedding day. A confrontation would only make things worse, and so I’d chosen to keep them in the dark for now. There’d be time to sort things out, but right now I needed time to process. Time to heal.
“Lexie, hey.” Gen snapped her fingers in front of my face, and I blinked. If it weren’t for the blue and purple highlights swirling through the ends of her now shoulder length hair, a person wouldn’t be able to tell us apart. “Do you want another drink?”
“No thanks.” I fingered the rim of the near-empty martini glass sitting on the glass table before me. The drink tasted like heaven in a cup, but I was no good with hangovers, and it didn’t take much for me to overdo it. I babied this second drink.
“What about you?” Gen asked Roxanna.
Roxanna shook her head. “Not yet. I’ll go up and get one in a little bit.”
“Okay, we’ll be right back.” Gen reached for Matt’s hand and twined her fingers through his. Matt, my sister’s boyfriend, gazed back as if she were the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on. Had Jeremy ever looked at me like that? Funny, now that we were over, I couldn’t remember if he had or not.
Gen and Matt’s relationship was still shiny and new, and if anyone deserved a happy ending, it was my twin. She’d overcome her own relationship fall-out earlier in the year—it was nice to see her smiling like this again. They were cute together.
“Your sister…I swear, if I didn’t love her so much, I’d choke her,” Roxanna said, and I smiled. My best friend was a mix of Filipino and Italian. She’d inherited her tan complexion, rich brown eyes and long, long lashes from her mom, but the spattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose came from her dad.
“What’d she do now?”
“She’s trying to hook me up with some friend of Matt’s. A doctor. She won’t quit bugging me about it.” She crinkled up her nose in a grimace. “You Gorecki women have a reputation for bad judgment when it comes to hookups.”
She was right. Catherine and I hadn’t done a very good job in finding Gen a date to my engagement party. One of those dates had resulted in a string of strange encounters with an IT tech, Richard. Though his and Gen’s relationship hadn’t budded into love, Richard was now a friend. He was deep in designing the new website for my boutique,
Once Upon A Dream
. I’d been so caught up in the fallout of the wedding scandal, I’d forgotten to call him for an update.
Another thing to add to my To Do list, right after becoming a nun and swearing off men.
“Why’s she pressuring you so much? Blake’s only been gone a month.” I picked up my drink, some kind of pink concoction with a lime wedge on the rim.
“Blake has nothing to do with why I’m saying ‘no’ to this hookup,” Roxanna said, a sharp edge to her tone.
Blake and Roxanna had been on again, off again for a couple years, and neither was interested in serious. A few months ago, Blake moved to California to open a new nightclub. Roxanna’s tough act was an act of denial—she missed him or she’d be dating again by now. My heart ached for her. I’d been burned by love, true, but she’d never opened up enough to give anyone a chance to break her heart. Maybe she had the right idea. Right now, I could have done without the heartbreak.
“Maybe you could go to dinner with the doctor and see what happens,” I suggested.
“Maybe.” She shrugged and picked up her cell phone off the table. She scrolled the screen then flashed a picture of a guy laughing, standing beside Matt. They were holding beers outside a football stadium.
“Holy wow, he’s gorgeous.” I glanced up from her phone. “And your hesitation is what again?”
“He’s a doctor. He’s probably boring.” She clicked the display off.
“That’s a big assumption.” Even for Roxanna, which only strengthened my suspicion she cared for Blake more than she would admit to anyone, even herself.
“And he probably wants a white picket fence and a bunch of kids,” she added.
I laughed. “You sound like a commitment phobic man.”
“Don’t be sexist. Lots of women have an aversion to white picket fences. Women have
jobs
and make their own car payments in this generation, so what’s the point of getting married?”
She had a point. My new mentality of “men suck” allowed me to sympathize with Roxanna’s marriage-isn’t-necessary ideology.
“White picket fences are overrated.” I pictured the one surrounding Catherine’s yard. It was perfect, and I’d wanted one for myself.
“Exactly.” Roxanna raised her drink in toast, and I clinked mine against hers. “Women are independent and can do anything they damn well please these days. If I want to throw the middle finger up at the white picket fence, and one-night stand my way through this city with hot, willing men, I’ll do it. Because I can. Like a boss.”