Page 35 of Working for the Runaway Bride

“All right. One minute.”

Her heels click away.

Jessica turns to me. “We can go through the back.”

The bridal suite has a second door that leads to a service hallway. We planned to use it for photographs in the courtyard before the ceremony, but rain forced us to take pictures inside instead.

Now that door looks like the only escape left in the world. I grab the bouquet. Then I realize how ridiculous it is to carry flowers while running away from my wedding and drop it again.

We hurry out the back door and down the hallway. Running in a wedding dress is harder than it looks in movies. The skirt tangles around my legs, the veil pulls against my scalp, and my heels threaten to slide on the polished floor.

At the intersection near the kitchen, voices approach.

Jessica grabs my arm. “Go,” she whispers. “I’ll stop them.”

I leave her and move as fast as I can until I find a small room. It’s a small office that is unoccupied. I close the door behind me, but then, the doorknob moves. I freeze.

“Molly?”

Not Carter. Grayson. My heart stops.

The door opens slowly. He steps inside and closes it behind him. He’s wearing a black suit.

I’ve never seen him in one. The jacket fits his broad shoulders perfectly, and a dark blue tie lies against a crisp white shirt. His silver-streaked hair is combed back from his face, though it looks as if he has already dragged his fingers through it more than once.

He looks devastatingly handsome.

“What happened?” he asks.

I rise. “How did you find me?”

“Jessica.”

“She told you?”

“She ran into me in the hallway and said you were hiding in one of the old offices.”

“Why did she tell you?”

“I asked where you were.”

“Why?”

His jaw tightens. “Because you weren’t walking down the aisle.”

My eyes drop.

“You came.”

“Carter is my son.”

The answer hurts, even though it shouldn’t. Of course he came for Carter.

Not for me.

“I thought you might not,” I say.

“I almost didn’t.”