She nods as she swipes a tear from her cheek. “I have some stuff out in my car. Food, diapers, that sort of thing. And I have paperwork.”
“I can send someone out to help,” Milton says quietly from behind his desk.
“Thank you,” she murmurs as she stares down at the baby. I see the love she has for him, for this baby boy who is a stranger to me but who has my blood running through his veins—we think—and I feel a strange surge of gratitude that she took care of him to this point.
I guess I have no other choice but to take it from here.
CHAPTER 2: Ainsley Riggs
I Don’t
I hold Jordan’s hands in mine as I stare into his blue eyes.
I didn’t think it would really happen for me. It was my best friend who signed me up for this reality show and convinced me to do it.Speed to the Altar, sort of a mash-up of different reality dating shows that end with a wedding, wasn’t on my radar. But when Ivy saw the casting call in Chicago, she convinced me to do it.
And now, four weeks to the day after I met Jordan, I’m standing at a chapel in Las Vegas wearing a wedding dress about to say the words that will bond us together for the rest of our lives.
It’s bananas, right?
I’m only twenty-two, but the dating pool in Chicago was thin, I hated my job, and I needed some excitement in my boring life, so I tried it.
Who would’ve thought I’d actually end up here, an actual Cinderella story in the making?
Not me.
“Do you, Ainsley, take Jordan to be your husband?” the officiant hired by the production team asks.
I smile at Jordan, and I pause as instructed so the editors can insert an even longer pause for dramatic effect. “I do.”
Jordan seems to falter at my words, my goofy grin, and the expression on my face over the total thrill that I fell in love on a reality show.
He’s not smiling back.
That should be my first clue.
I’m too overcome with my own excitement to notice.
“And Jordan, do you take Ainsley to be your wife?” the officiant asks.
He presses his lips together, and I’m certain for a beat that it’s that same dramatic pause.
But then something shifts in his eyes, and a pit drops down into my stomach.
“I’m not ready to commit to you for the rest of my life. I’m so sorry. I don’t.”
I gasp.
I wasn’t expecting that.
At least it’s just us in the chapel, unlike other shows that host weddings for entire families to witness this dreaded moment. Well, it’s us in here along with the other couples and the production staff.
You know, just like a hundred people or so to witness my complete and total embarrassment, only for the entire world to witness it in a few months when editing is complete and this stupid show airs.
The world seems to spin too fast for me as everyone else in the room reacts with gasps of their own—except for Jordan and maybe like one or two producers who knew coming in here that he was going to say that.
That he was going to break my heart.
In four weeks, I fell in love.
