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My thumb rolled over my very empty ring finger.
“I was supposed to,” I said slowly. “But I’m not engaged, no.”
Cameron fell quiet for a few moments, easing his leg out to the side. I shifted as well, tilting my weight to one hip so I could tuck my legs toward the ground.
“Thought for a minute I had a runaway bride stuck in here with me.” There was a smile clear in his voice, followed by an almost desperate desire to see it.
Then I exhaled a soft laugh, thinking about what he’d said.
Didn’t he, though?
I was running. An unplanned escape that probably should have had some forethought and a better exit strategy.
As a result, my dad might never forgive me.
I pressed a trembling hand over my chest, the material of the dress scratchy and warm under my palm.
“Uh-oh,” he said. “Did I say something I shouldn’t have?”
I shook my head, words stuck at the base of my throat. He was a stranger. There was no way I could unload all of this on him—no matter what this elevator felt like.
But there was no one else.
No one to listen or hear what I wanted to say.
Cameron, my protective friend in the elevator, was as good a confessor as any.
The man had manners—the kind that Emily Post taught me about. I’d had that blue book of etiquette memorized before I went to high school, and I could easily pluck one line out that perfectly described Cameron the lumberjack.
Manners are a sensitive awareness to the feelings of others. If you have that awareness, you have manners, no matter which fork you use.
“He’s … fine. The man I was supposed to marry,” I said quietly. “Our families have always wanted us to get married. We’ve known it for the last ten years.”
“But you don’t want to?” he asked.
I didn’t answer right away. Somehow, telling him exactly how much it freaked me out felt like too big of a confession to make, that the sight of that wedding dress magically conjured the one line I wasn’t willing to cross to keep my father happy.
I hadn’t even known that line existed until today.
So I settled on a truth that was far more condensed and a bit simpler to say out loud. “I don’t believe I do. But it’s not just about me,” I said quietly. “Our parents feel very strongly about keeping their respective businesses in the family.”
The sound he made—sort of a low hum—was so pleasing, I fought a shiver.
“I can understand that,” he said.
A banging sound came from the top of the elevator.
“Anyone in there?” a muffled voice yelled.
Cameron moved to his feet. “Yeah, there are two of us.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No, we’re fine,” he answered. “Can you get us out?”
“We’ve got an engineer on the way, but you might need to get comfortable,” the voice shouted. “It’ll be at least a couple of hours. He’s in Salem right now, but he’s on his way.”
“Dammit,” Cameron muttered. “All right,” he yelled back up. “Thank you.”
