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I couldn’t do this.
Bile was crawling up my throat.
My sister asked me the same thing she had asked me a week earlier. “Are you sure?”
“Yes!” I glanced wildly around for my phone and my purse. “I need to get the hell out of here before I completely lose it. Please help me.”
Sophie took both of my hands. “Bella, look at me.”
I focused on her, taking deep breaths. I was in a cold sweat, my heart racing. I had a feeling this was a legit panic attack.
“You need to call an Uber and go to a hotel in the next town over. I’ll take care of everything here, okay?” She gestured behind her to the door that led to the back parking lot, meant for brides to enter with discretion. “The wedding planner can handle all the details, it’s no big deal.”
“Mom and Dad are going to hate me,” I wailed. “Oh my God.”
“No they won’t. I promise.” Her voice was soothing, her expression caring, which meant a lot to me. It was hard for Sophie to express emotion, and as my younger sister there weren’t a lot of moments where she had offered to comfort me. “You need to do what’s right for you.”
I nodded. “You’re right. You’re right.” I suddenly realized that if my parents refused to speak to me, that would actually be preferable to marrying Bradley. And avoiding him on our wedding night, since one, he hadn’t gotten an STD test, and two, the thought of him touching me made me want to vomit.
There was no way I could go through with this wedding.
It wasn’t about revenge or humiliating Bradley. It was about saving my sanity.
My dignity.
Classy and fabulous. I was both, damn it, and I deserved better than this.
Way better.
She handed me my phone. I unlocked it and impulsively texted Christian.
Hi.
God, what was I even doing? I had texted him like we were strangers on Tinder. He would think I was insane. I hadn’t contacted him all week.
But I felt like he was the one person who had no opinion or bias in this situation, and he had already seen me break down in a wine-and-sugar implosion.
Yet today was my wedding day and he knew that. He wouldn’t answer me.
Sophie was on her phone, texting the wedding planner, I had to assume.
“Don’t tell anyone yet!” I yelled, freaking the freak out. If they knew I was ditching they would arrive en masse to try to talk to me.
“I’m texting the wedding planner to let her know you’re having stomach problems and to keep everyone out.”
For some reason that offended me. “Stomach problems? Oh my God.” It seemed so gross. So undignified. But Sophie was just trying to buy me time.
My phone buzzed.
It was Christian.
Hi.
There was a pause, then he texted again.
How’s the wedding?
I can’t do it. I’m standing here, dressed, and I can’t do it. I feel like I’m having a heart attack.
