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I could already see it: sand in their Valentino dresses. Drunken laughter, spilling into the night. Someone disappearing with a groomsman, before midnight.
And me? Standing here.
Finally, I’d run out of aisle. There was a brief handshake, a kiss on the cheek, and suddenly I was there, face to face with Donovan. Storm-gray eyes. Perfect smile. Tearstracking down his cheeks, looking for all the world like they meant something.
This was it: the culmination of everything. Months of build-up. Careful decisions, and convenient emotions.
A life that made perfect sense, on paper.
Last time, Peyton.
Are you really doing this?
Yes. At long last, I concluded that I definitely was.
Fuck yes.
Decision made, I turned and ran.
