“I don’t know. Just drive.” I reach up, grab the edge of my veil, and rip at it. The rest of the pins tug painfully at my scalp, and I yank until the whole thing comes loose. I then fling it out the window, which ultimately inspires him to take off, because people are honking behind us and someone is taking pictures. Let them. I have no more shits to give today. None.
My blonde hair spills down around me in loose waves, finally free. I feel lighter. My life just got insanely complicated, and for once in my life, I have no plans, and I don’t care.
He glances at the paparazzi and says, “Are we running from the groom or them?”
I blink. “Both.”
What I don’t tell him is that I’m racing to get away from the hurt that keeps clawing its way up inside me. Belladonna causes chaos. I know this. And, yet it still somehow took me by surprise.
Tyler, though?
That one cuts deeper. He was supposed to love me. Sure pretended to anyway. The entire betrayal is humiliating. They paraded around, practically in my face, and I was too distracted and overworked to notice. It’s only fair Tyler has to deal with the embarrassment of telling everyone he got left at the altar for sleeping with the bride’s sister.
“Definitely both,” I say firmly.
The cabbie nods like this is just another normal day. “Got it.”
I bark out a laugh, and it comes out as if I’ve officially lost my mind. “Okay, hypothetically speaking,” I say. “If you were a runaway bride, where would you go?”
He chuckles as if this question takes him off guard, but entertains him, nonetheless.
“Depends,” he says, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, as he merges into traffic.
I lean forward, grinning, despite the way my mind races in a thousand different directions. “You act like this isn’t your first runaway bride situation.”
The city blurs past the window, and I watch my wedding venue disappear behind us. Good riddance.
“Honey, I’ve been driving a cab for thirty years,” he says. “I’ve picked up three runaway brides. One groom. That was a weird one.”
It’s oddly relieving to know I’m not the only one out there eager to leave their bad decisions behind them, even at the very last minute.
“Where’d they go?” I ask.
“Two went back to their wedding,” he says. “One went to Vegas and married a bartender. That one still sends me a Christmas card every year.”
I sigh and take another swig from the bottle. For the girl who has every inch of her life planned out, it feels so freeing to have no plans. None. It’s better than marrying that cheating asshole. And this is big. Because I’m type A. I have everything planned. But right now, all I feel is free.
He glances at me in the mirror. “You don’t look like you’re going back.”
I shake my head. “I’m definitely not going back.”
“Good,” he says. “So, do you want chaos or peace?”
My stomach tightens painfully when I think about Belladonna’s smug, stupid face and Tyler’s lame excuses—a glimpse of what was going to become my future. My mother’s voice telling me not to embarrass the family. I try to remember what my dad’s face looked like, but I can’t recall. I was too busy running away. He’s probably so mad, too.
I try to suck in a breath of air, so I don’t hyperventilate. This is overwhelming to say the least.
“Peace,” I immediately respond. Always peace. I’ve had enough chaos.
He merges onto the freeway, and I lean my now-throbbing head against the seat, suddenly feeling exhausted. The adrenaline has drained out of me, and I am so tired.
He hums. “Mountains or tropical?”
I close my eyes and picture the beach with endless waves, cocktails, and peace.
“Tropical,” I answer, dreamily. Then I sit up straighter. I know where I’m going.
Birdie.
