Page 46 of Working for the Runaway Bride

I wish I had remembered that when Molly asked me to love her. Instead, I looked at everything broken in my life and decided she deserved someone untouched. Someone better.

I drag the canvas cover over the Chevelle. It’s the middle of the workday, but I don’t have the patience to look at it anymore.

My phone rings in my pocket. Every nerve in my body ignites. I pull it out too quickly, nearly dropping it. I stare at her name. It’s the first time she has called since the day she lost her job.

I answer. “Molly?”

“Hi.”

Her voice is soft. Distant. But it’s her. Relief moves through me so violently that I have to brace a hand against the Chevelle.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

She isn’t. I know the lie now.

“Where are you?”

“At the hotel.”

“Are you safe?”

“Yes.”

“Do you need something?”

There’s a pause.

“I wanted to tell you before you heard from someone else.”

My stomach tightens. “Tell me what?”

“I’m leaving.”

The garage tilts.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m moving back in with my parents.”

“You said they live in Florida.”

“They do.”

“That’s across the country.”

“I know.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

Her answer knocks the breath out of me.

Tomorrow. I have less than a day before she disappears.

“Why?”