Or someone who’s thinking about running. Knows that it’s the only way she’s going to make it out alive.
Do it, Mills.
Run.
Fucking run.
No sooner do I think it, does Paige pass in front of me, stilltrying to get my attention. I ignore her, my gaze trained on the panicking woman behind her.
Like I said it out loud, Millie looks right at me and because I don’t know what else to do, I give her one of my asshole smirks while giving the back of Paige’s head a healthy dose of side-eye.
Want me to trip her?
Her father says something, the look he’s aiming down at his daughter, a mixture of love and concern, tells me he knows something is wrong—even that he might know his eldest daughter is about to make the biggest mistake of her life—but he’s powerless to stop it.
Looking up at him, Millie visibly relaxes and nods her head, a moment before the drill sergeant disguised as a wedding coordinator, signals them to move through the door.
Finding and replanting a bland, polite smile onto my face, I stand. The other three hundred wedding guests do the same, watching as Millie and her father move down the aisle on slow, measured steps. When she passes my pew, Millie doesn’t look at me. The whole of her attention is focused on the nervous-looking man waiting for her at the altar.
Meeting them at the base of the steps, there’s a brief exchange between Allister and Millie’s father before he delivers a kiss to her cheek and relinquishes her to her soon-to-be husband.
Reclaiming my seat, I watch while Allister leads Millie up the trio of steps to the waiting priest like she’s made of glass. To anyone else, it looks like he’s being careful with her because he loves her. Wants Millie’s day to be perfect. Wants to make sure he gets every step right, but they don’t see what I see. They don’t know what I know.
Allister isn’t being careful because he loves her. He’s being careful because this is it. He’s in the home stretch. If he can getthrough the next hour and a half without fumbling the ball, he’s home free.
He’s bagged himself a Blackwell.
I’m sure the prenup the Blackwell’s army of lawyers built is iron clad but Allister is a smart guy—I’m willing to bet there’s some wiggle room in it somewhere. All he needs is for Millie to say I do and he’s set for life.
SEVENTEEN
As soon as I make it to the altar, I turn tohandPaige my bouquet, ignoring the fake,I’m so happy for yousmile she’s giving me, so I can take Allister’s hands, just like we rehearsed. Gaze up, lovingly into his eyes while the priest charged with marrying us can go about the business of making us man and wife.
Instead of letting Allister take my hands, like I’m supposed to, I reach into the voluminous folds of my dress and into the pocket, hidden within its yards of hand-beaded satin and imported lace. Wrapping my trembling hand around my cellphone, I hesitate.
What are you doing, Millie?
What the hell are you doing?
“Millie?” Like I said it out loud, Allister looks down at me. Frowning slightly, he repeats the question. “What are you doing?”
Get even—that’s what you’re supposed to do. You’re supposed to find a way to make that motherfucker pay for humiliating you.
“Excuse me, Father…” Looking at the priest, I offer him a faint, nervous smile that’s not a complete lie. “I know this isn’t what we rehearsed, but I’d like to read something to Allister before we start—it won’t take long,” I say, my anxiety spiking just a little when I realize just how well the acoustics of the sanctuary carry my voice. I wouldn’t be surprised if the secret service agents guarding the front steps could hear me.
“Well…” Father Flanagan, a good-looking man in his forties who the wedding coordinator insisted on because he would photograph well—hesitates. Lifting his gaze from where I’m standing, he surveys the crowded pews behind me as if mentally assessing just how much damage I could possibly do in front of the Vice President of the United States, three senators, The governor of New York, most ofForbesmagazine’sTop 100, and a congressman. “Certainly, my child,” he says, flashing me a beatific smile before he aims it at the three hundred people behind me. “The bride would like to read something special to her husband-to-be before we begin.” Looking back down at me, he gives me an encouraging nod. “Whenever you’re ready.”
The wedding coordinator is right—he would’ve taken a beautiful photograph.
“Thank you…” Pulling my phone from my pocket, I tap my thumb on the screen, bringing up the note I have bookmarked.
“What is this, Millie?” Allister gives me an indulgent smile before addressing the sanctuary full of wedding guests. “Ididn’t know we were writing our own vows. We never discussed it or I would have?—”
“Allister…” Cutting off his fumbling apology, I look up from the words, I have committed to memory so I can see his face when I read them. “I want to see you but it can’t be here. Millie still hasn’t turned her location back on. I can’t risk her coming home while we’re together.”
“Sweetheart?” The smile on his face ripples like a mask. “I don’t under?—”
Ignoring him, I keep reading.“Paige—could you imagine the look on her face if she actually did walk in on us?”When I say my cousin’s name, one of the faster thinking someone’s in the audience gasps. I’m pretty sure it was my aunt.“Allister—no and I really don’t want to. I can’t risk her finding out about us. Not this close to the wedding.”
