Page 3 of Working for the Runaway Bride

“No. But Molly might appreciate an explanation.”

“Don’t bring her into this.”

I stare at the framed photograph on the corner of my desk.

It’s an old picture of Carter sitting on my shoulders at a county fair. He’s six years old, missing both front teeth and holding a wad of blue cotton candy in one hand. I’m smiling up at him as if carrying that boy is the greatest privilege anyone has ever given me. At the time, it was. It still should be. But the man on the other end of the phone doesn’t resemble that little boy. Not in the ways that matter.

“You’re marrying her next week,” I say.

“I know when my wedding is.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Jesus, Dad.”

“Who is she?”

“I told you⁠—”

“That it’s none of my business.” I sink into the chair behind my desk. “Fine. Then handle Molly’s car yourself.”

“I can’t.”

I wait for an explanation. He doesn’t offer one.

“Why not?”

“I’m busy.”

“With the woman who isn’t my business?”

“Can you stop?”

“Can you answer a simple question?”

“No, because you’ve already decided I’m doing something wrong.”

“I haven’t decided anything. You’re the one acting guilty.”

“I’m not acting guilty.”

“You’re acting exactly like someone who doesn’t want his fiancée to know where he is.”

The line goes quiet. Through the office window, I see my employee, Luis, walk into the garage carrying a paper bag from the diner down the street. He looks toward my office, sees the expression on my face, and immediately turns around. Smart man.

“Look,” Carter says, lowering his voice. “Molly called me this morning. Her car started shaking on the way to school, and the check-engine light came on. She barely made it into the parking lot. She needs it fixed before the wedding.”

“Then why didn’t she call me?”

“She doesn’t know you.”

“I’ve seen her in your car one of the few times you’ve been over.” I lean back in the chair and look at the ceiling.

“Exactly. She doesn’t know you.” He huffs.

“Give me her number.”

The woman in the background says something too muffled for me to understand. Carter laughs.It’s a low, familiar sound. Careless. Amused.