"I do... it's comfortable, but..."
“Lainey.... What's going on?" Mandy was the only person in the world that I knew would support me no matter how crazy I got. She was the textbook definition of crazy herself. She’d moved to SoCal on her own six months ago, and I wished I was a little more like her. "Is comfortable what you want?"
Tears pricked my eyes. I blinked hard. It’d taken me twenty minutes to fix my makeup after that train wreck. I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel yet. Maybe it really was just wedding jitters. Mom did say all women got them.
"I don’t even know anymore," I muttered, but my grumbling was cut off.
"Sweetheart," I heard, and I turned to see my father's eyes welling up with tears. He was in the doorway, staring at me. "You look so beautiful. My God, what a gorgeous young woman you've become."
My heart melted as he walked closer to me, careful of the train, and placed a chaste kiss on my cheek after Mandy backed away. I could tell she wanted to save me, but he lingered there, holding my shoulders and pressing his cheek to mine. "I'm so proud of you baby. You're such an incredible woman."
I watched her melt out of the doorway as Dad's arms wrapped around my waist. The tears burned hotter, and I looked up and blinked hard to keep them back.
"Thanks, Daddy..." I sighed, hoping he didn't catch the tremor in my tone. He had been looking forward to this day too, almost as much as Brandon had. The idea of letting either of them down because I had doubts made me feel sick. I didn't let people down. It wasn’t in my nature.
Even when it meant doing things I didn’t want to do or things I hated, I still brought my A-game because that's who I was. I knew if I failed or backed out of something my parents would always forgive me, but the idea of enduring that momentary shame made it impossible for me to choose myself. Ever.
"Ready?" he said, pulling back, and I forced a smile, blinking back the rest of the tears.
"Ready," I told him, hooking my hand around his elbow.
"Good. The wedding party is lining up. When I walked in here they had just sent the first one down. We've got a few minutes…." He chuckled, and I knew it was in reference to my massive wedding party. Brandon had insisted that our altar look more like the starting lineup for the UNLV Rebels, not the simplicity of a maid of honor and a best man like I preferred. It took me six months to nail down the ladies I'd have walk for me. As an introvert, I had literally no one.
On my father's arm, being escorted out of the bridal suite toward the chapel that hosted more than five hundred of Brandon's "closest family friends,” I started to feel sick. So sick I knew I would throw up. I burped a few times, wobbled a bit, and knew if I didn't tell my father that I was having second thoughts, I woulddie on the spot and melt into a puddle like the Wicked Witch of the West.
I opened my mouth three times, hoping to choke the words out, but they wouldn't come. We lined up behind the wedding party, with three pairs down and four more to go, and I watched the flower girl—Brandon's cousin—twirling and spinning.Oh what it would be like to be that child again, so carefree, without this pressure on my chest.
Dad was gabbing with Mandy about how to walk with my train tangled around his legs. I heard Trevor’s voice and craned my ear toward it. It almost made my heart stop.
I could tell he was trying to keep his voice quiet, but my senses were on high alert, and it was as if karma itself was trying to free me from a prison of my own choosing.
He leaned in toward Beck and snickered. "Think Brando told the old ball and chain he screwed the stripper?"
My throat constricted and I felt the color drain from my cheeks.
"Hell no!" Beck snorted. "You think a man tells his wife he cheated at his bach party? He's not stupid, yo."
It felt like a knife slicing into my chest, severing every connection I had to the man I thought I would grow old with. Twenty-one years old, and I had never dated or looked at another guy. Not so much as a kiss with anyone except those fantasies of Hugh Jackman in my dreams, and I was learning my fiancé had sex with his stripper at a bachelor party I never approved of?
The answer I had been praying for had manifested in the form of an ice cold shock that made me forget why I’d ever doubted my intuition.
"Dear, are you okay?" I blinked a few times, dumbly looking at my father, who seemed concerned.
"Uh... no. I have to pee, and this thing could last for an hour. Can you hold my flowers? I need to go."
"I'll go with you," Mandy offered, handing Dad her flowers too, but I shook my head firmly. This was my way out. No way she was ruining it for me.
"I've got it. You'll be halfway up the aisle before I'm back," I chided, hiking up my skirt. I didn't have time to unbutton all the fasteners on the train to remove it. Underneath was a cocktail dress—the one I'd have preferred for the entire ceremony. Brandon had said was unacceptable to his family's inner circle, but we’d compromised.
"Girl," Mandy hissed. "You always wait until the last minute." She chuckled, which eased some of my tension, but I didn't wait another second.
I turned and started walking as fast as I could. As soon as I was around the corner I picked up the pace and jogged, and eventually I found myself feeling strong enough, thanks to the adrenaline, to run. I found my purse and keys in the bridal suite, and then bolted for the exit before anyone came looking.
The funny thing was, in that moment I wasn't mad at him. I didn't hate him. I didn't want to pry his eyeballs out with a spoon or cut his dick off. All I wanted was to put as much space between me and that altar as possible. The Bellagio wasbeautiful, but it wasn’t the place for me to get married. At least not today.
I burst into the hot air of the Las Vegas August sun and kept running, lugging the ridiculous six-foot train behind me. And I didn't stop running until I was packed into my tiny Toyota Corolla, heading away from the nightmare to find a place to hide.
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