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I tossed the phone down onto the table and fanned myself. I needed to get my shoes on. They were waiting there, by the vanity, ready for me to step into them as the photographer captured the moment. They were beautiful Louboutins with a neutral mesh embellished with crystals. Blingy and bridal and fairy-tale gorgeous. Slipping them on now was the exact opposite of how I expected to feel.
Christian texted me.
Are you going to call it off?
YES. I am calling an Uber in a minute and sneaking out the back. Sophie is going to cover for me.
Do you want me to pick you up?
I didn’t even hesitate.
Please, yes.
I realized that’s why I had texted him. I wanted him to rescue me. To come and get me and give me someone to talk to instead of having to go to a hotel by myself. I felt ashamed that I wasn’t strong enough to tell him no. That I wanted him to help me. That I had reached out.
I had never broken the rules. I had never done something so rebellious, inconsiderate, last-minute, socially unacceptable. It was scary as hell.
Gathering my phone and my purse, I threw my overnight bag over my head and shoulder. Ten long minutes later Christian texted he was there and I hiked up the skirt of my designer dress and waved to Sophie. I shoved open the back door and ran.
—
“Christian, you’re a fucking idiot,” I murmured to myself as I sat in my car behind a classic stone church. I had graduated from being attracted to trouble to picking it up in a church parking lot.
Then she came flying out of the back door of the church, her skirt bundled up in her arms, exposing her legs from the knees down, a veil flowing behind her. She ran in heels like the devil himself was after her, and hell, maybe he was.
I had been shocked that she had texted me, and even more shocked still to find myself offering to pick her up. But Bella had gotten under my skin. Maybe it was seeing her holding my son so sweetly. Maybe it was her humble admission that she wasn’t good in bed. Or more likely it was the fact that she had come to my mom’s still planning to marry an extreme douchebag and had now seen the goddamn light. I didn’t want her to change her mind and lock herself into a life with such a miserable guy.
Am I known for being Mr. Monogamous? No. But I wouldn’t put it off on my girlfriend if I cheated. It would be my fault and I would take responsibility, not make excuses. And hell, I never cheated on a woman I was involved with, because I was never involved. I just helped women cheat.
Yep. Fucking saint sitting at church, that was me.
I started to get out to open the door for her but she called out, winded and hysterical, “Get in and drive!” She yanked open the passenger door, tossed a bag over the seat to the back, and scrambled to get inside.
I slid back behind the wheel and glanced around to see if anyone was coming out after her. “You in?”
There hadn’t been a door slam. She was grappling to get it closed, but finally I heard the click. Her head turned toward me. “Okay, I’m good.”
I hit the locks just in case the door wasn’t completely closed. I would fucking flip out if she spilled onto the road in a wedding dress. “Where are we going?” I asked her.
“Anywhere.” She pushed the veil back off her face with trembling fingers. “Somewhere where no one can see me or find me.”
“I know a place.” We had a piece of property that had belonged to my mother’s father that had been used back in the day for fishing and hunting. There was a dilapidated shack on it and an old railroad caboose my grandfather had thought was cool.
I was driving but I couldn’t stop myself from looking at Bella. She was engulfed in all the trappings of a bride. There was white fabric everywhere, and her hair was curled in long waves. She had on extra makeup and thick, dark eyelashes, and her cleavage was popping. “You look beautiful,” I said, even though it was probably the last thing she wanted to hear. But she did.
She was stunning. Breathtaking. Mouthwatering. Even her anxious breathing just set her cleavage heaving, turning me on. I wanted to yank that bodice down and suck her nipples. Lift her skirt and dive on under there with fingers, mouth, my hard cock. I wanted to yank that tiara veil thing off her head and bury my hands in her hair, tugging her head backward, forcing her to look at me.
I also wanted to hold her naked in my arms and reassure her that she was enough. Sexy. Satisfying.
Maybe I was actually going to have a chance to do all of that.
“What?” She waved her hand in dismissal. “God, stop, you don’t have to give me compliments.”
I just shrugged. “I don’t have to do anything. I wanted to say that because it’s true. You’re fucking gorgeous.”
She gave a nervous laugh and said, “Thanks.” Then she threw back her head and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “Oh my God, thanks for picking me up. I finally feel like I can breathe. It was like I was choking in there.” She touched her neck and her eyes flew back open. “Have you ever felt like that?”
“Yeah,” I said shortly. When Ali told me she was pregnant, after I had found out she was still with my brother.
