I’m gonna be like one of those clichéd brides-to-be that you see in movies. The ones who hike up their dress by the hem and run for the hills instead of walking down the aisle.
Not because I don’tsortoflike Lincoln. But because I can no longer deny that this marriage thing is the real deal.
The deeper Lincoln and I get, the more I feel like this might all be a horrible mistake.
There are so many innocent hearts involved in the decisions we’re making.My great-grandmother. Both of our mothers. Cameron. Heck, even Lincoln’s ex-wife.
The lies roll so easily off our tongues now that everyone seems to believe that our relationship is legit. The people closest to us believe that my so-called groom and I are heading down some fairytale path that leads to a happily ever after.
Meanwhile, I can hardly stand being in the same room as the man.
I don’t know if I can betray all these people that I care about. Imagining the disappointment that will be on their faces after we ‘break up’ in a few months just aboutbreaksme.
I don’t want to even think about that day.
Lumbering across the bridal suite in my long wedding dress, I peel the curtains back and peek at the guests gathered in Great-Grandma’s backyard.
I shudder.
My cold feet might also have something to do with the fact that my father is here, along with his evil wife. Seeing his smug face always puts me in a jittery mood.
I hate that he has to walk me down the aisle today. I hate that he’s being forced to. But Great-Grandma is nothing but traditional.
I want to tell her that Dad is a hypocrite. I want to remind her that this whole thing feels so disingenuous. My father obviously didn’t give two shits about disrespecting his own marriage vows. Having him here at my wedding just feels like a dark cloud of ugliness. It doesn’t feel right.
Which probably makes me a hypocrite, too.
Nerves ziplining erratically around my body, I glance around the room. My makeup artist is busy getting Alba and Laney—my beautiful bridesmaids—all dolled up and fussing over each of them.I sense an opportunity, and I decide to take it.
That’s it. I’m running.
Without a second thought, I shove my bare feet into my boots, grab my leather jacket, and stealthily escape out of the bridal suite.
I sprint as fast as my dress allows down Great-Grandma’s creaky, high-ceilinged hallway. The front door is in sight. I feel like there’s a big neon exit sign flashing above it.
Only ten more feet.
Six more feet.
Two.
But just as I’m about to bolt out of the giant double door entrance, my stupid conscience catches up with me.My legs halt.Don’t be a coward, Jules. At the very least, face this mess you’ve made head on.
Ugh.My guardian angel is right. I can’t do this to Lincoln. Not like this.
I make a reluctant detour, wobbling down the opposite hallway to the groom’s suite, a.k.a, my great-grandfather’s old office. Not bothering to knock, I burst inside. The door bangs against the wood-paneled wall and every groomsman turns to face me. Lincoln’s brothers look on cautiously, staring in my direction with wide eyes.
I know I must look crazy, standing here, wearing my unlaced biker boots and old leather jacket over my wedding gown.
The men are all mostly dressed. Just a few unbuttoned shirts and loose belts.
Well, except for Rocco who for some reason, is wearing nothing but a pair of socks with wedding cakes all over them. Somehow, I’m not surprised. That guy is so unserious.
He cups both hands over his junk, spinning around and giving me an unwanted view of his bare ass.
“Uhh…I don’t think you’re supposed to be here, Jules,” he shouts, ducking behind a tufted wingback armchair and gesturing for Oliver to toss him his pants.
“Yeah. I think it’s bad luck,” Easton chimes in as he fiddles with his crooked bow tie.
