A knock followed by Dax’s voice calms me. Even for a moment.
Rushing to the door, I pull it open and usher him inside. “Get in here.”
His hand is over his eyes. “Am I allowed to see you?”
“Yes. Besides, it doesn’t matter.”
I yank his hand down, and when he looks at me, I can see the confusion wash over his face.
He points at what I’m wearing. “Why aren’t you wearing your dress?”
I throw a thumb over my shoulder. “It’s over there. But that’s not why I need you.”
“Chloe, what is going on?” he asks. “Why do you need me? And why did I need my car keys?”
“Because we’re getting out of here.”
“Out of here? You’re getting married in like ten minutes.”
“Not anymore.” I brush past him and grab my purse. “Are you going to help me or what?”
“Obviously. But are you not going to tell me what’s going on?”
I shake my head. “Not right now. We need to get out of here before anyone comes looking for me.”
“You’re the bride,” Dax points out. “You realize peoplewill come looking, right? I mean, your mom and bridesmaids are waiting for you.”
“Ugh.” I throw my head back in frustration. “Look, if you don’t want to help, I can call a rideshare.”
“No.” Dax pulls his keys out of his pocket. “Do you need anything from me?”
I look behind me at the side exit door. “Will you just tell my parents and then I’ll meet you at your car? Please, Dax?”
A pinched look washes over his face. “You really want me to tell your parents that the wedding is off?”
“Yes. If I try to do it, my mom will talk me back into it and I donotwant that.”
“Fine.” Dax waves me toward the door. “Go. I’ll take care of everyone else, okay?”
I press up onto my toes and peck his cheek. “Thank you.”
Getting to the side door, I grab my bag I had stuffed with essentials from the last few days and turn back as Dax takes a deep breath and leaves. At least I have him in my corner.
Because it’s a gorgeous day here, everyone is filling the park. It gives me the cover I need to dodge through people to get to the parking lot. Clicking the fob on Dax’s keys, I follow the beeping until I find his small, black SUV and hop into the front seat.
Flipping the visor down, I start to pull the bobby pins out of my blonde hair. It’s tucked, twisted, and sprayed to within an inch of its life.
Something else I didn’t like. A fancy French twist that my stylist said would complement my dress. I said yes because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
Tears start to burn again. This time, hurt seeps through the anger. How did I let it get this far? Instead of standingunder a pergola, confessing my love to Duncan, I’m sitting in his brother’s car waiting to leave my own wedding.
I blow out a breath, picking at my French manicure. There will be time to figure out what went wrong, but right now, I need copious amounts of alcohol to deal with what I heard.
How could I have gotten played like this?
Dax is running toward me, undoing his purple tie as he crosses the parking lot. His normally curly brown hair is gelled into place. Sunglasses hide his brown eyes as he opens the door and slides inside.
“How did it go?” I wring my hands in my lap as Dax starts the car.
