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“Okay.” She’d heard all she needed. “I get it.” There was nothing left to talk about.
“You do?” He reached for her. “Thank—”
“No.” Her hand flipped up to ward him off. “Don’t misunderstand what’s happening here.” Was he out of his mind? “Igetthat my parents work their hands to the bone keeping Renzo’s going—not for themselves, but for all the aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents who make it their livelihood. Igetthat I’m the kid who babysat and walked dogs after school instead of playing a sport or joining a club…or having friends. I’m the woman who got up at three in the morning six days a week to make croissants and turnovers but still sang in a tribute band on the weekends so I could build up a savings that you wiped out in the click of a button.” She headed out.
“Wait, where are you going? We’re still getting married, right?”
It wasn’t sinking it. She needed to make herself very clear. “Two things are going to happen. I’m going to walk away from you because I can’t stand to look at your face, and two, you’re going to put the money back into my parents’ account. I don’t care how you do it, but I want it done.” Standing in the doorway, she looked at this man she’d loved since she was a teenager. This man who’d broken her heart and healed it a dozen times.
A man who’d betrayed her in the most unforgivable way.
And she knew without a shred of doubt that it was over. “Goodbye, Ian.” Weighed down by the heavy dress, Grace hurried back to her bedroom. Thank God, it was empty.
Well, of course, it’s empty. I’m supposed to be walking down the aisle right now.
All those people. Anxiety gripped her, and she went to the window. Her stomach twisted at the sight of the wedding arch covered in stunning pink peonies, her favorite flower. Everyone she’d ever known sat in folding chairs they’d painstakingly adorned with ribbons and a spray of baby’s breath.
Romeo stood as officiant. He was not only the brother closest in age to her, but he was also Ian’s best friend.He’ll be devastated when he finds out.
Well, she had to do it. She had to tell everyone the wedding was off.
But wait. Ian’s boss and coworkers were there, too. If she made the announcement, everyone would want to know why. The truth would spread. She might be done with him, but he’d never be able to pay her parents back if his career was ruined.
Her chest hurt with all the emotions thrashing around. It was so hard to think clearly. She had only one instinct, one incessant voice drumming at the back of her mind.
Go.
Get out of here.
Run.
She grabbed her purse and suitcase and hurried down the hallway. As soon as she got clear of the house, she’d text her mom, ask her to let everyone know, and that the bride and groom would return the gifts.
At the bottom of the stairs, she stopped to catch her breath. She had to slow down.Where am I even going? Think.Voices in the kitchen propelled her toward the door.
None of this made sense. Ian wouldn’t do this. He just couldn’t. If he came over and saw her dad mowing the lawn, he took over—even if he was dressed nicely. He always cleaned the kitchen after her parents cooked a meal.
How could the same guy who helped unload delivery trucks for the bakery at six a.m., making him late for work, be the same guy who hacked into their laptops?
I can’t breathe.
She had to unbutton the back of the dress, but before she could set her luggage down, she heard the chamber trio launch intoCanon in D. Any minute now, her mom, her bridesmaids,someonewould come looking for her. They’d ask why she was running, and what could she say? She couldn’t lie to them. It just wasn’t her nature.
I have to get out of here. I have to think.
Throwing open the front door, she slammed into a hard body. “Oof.” The air left her lungs, but before she went down, two very strong hands gripped her biceps.
“Whoa. Where’s the fire?” a deep voice asked.
The first thing that hit her was his scent. Expensive, intensely masculine—it fired up a vague, oddly sexual sensation. But then, she gazed into the blue-gray eyes of the most breathtakingly handsome man she’d ever seen. Jaime Dupree. He was one of Ian’s oldest friends, and yet, she barely knew him.
Growing up, Ian’s family spent two weeks every summer on a dude ranch in Wyoming. This guy’s family owned it.
“I…uh.” She needed to get past him, but his big, muscular body blocked her way. “Can you…?”
“Looks like I missed something.” He glanced down at her suitcase. “Or did we skip to the honeymoon?”
Her fiancé had always been obsessed with Jaime. Where Ian was a clean-cut New Englander in boat shoes, Jaime was a bad boy with messy dark blond hair, scruff, and cowboy boots. He was a hockey player—a goalie, if she remembered correctly—with battered hands and big skates. He was wild and uninhibited, a total free spirit who did the kinds of things Ian didn’t have the balls to do. Crazy things like rappelling off granite mountains and heli-skiing on glaciers.
