Page 73 of Bad Run

Gwen

Present

Across the street, the marigold lights on the Eiffel Tower sparkle, and the fountains below go off in a spectacular light display for a crowded group of bystanders.

I never thought I’d be staring at the neon lights of the Las Vegas Strip glowing beneath me from one of the most expensive suites in the city, waiting to get married.

How did I get here?

One minute I’m trying to let Lance off the hook, and the next minute I’m wearing his ring and we’re rushing off to Las Vegas to elope.

Panic’s crushing weight presses down on my chest, making it hard for me to breathe. Bending at the waist, I place my hands on my knees and focus on taking slow, deep lungfuls of oxygen.

I’m so glad Lance isn’t here to witness my mental breakdown. He left to, in his words, “take care of a few things before the ceremony.”

I didn’t question him. I needed a minute to think.

My plan was simple. Meet him at the donut shop, tell him I changed my mind, and walk away.

Everything is happening so fast, and none of this feels fake.

From the moment I sat down at the table this morning, it was clear Lance had a plan of his own in place, and it wasn’t calling off this crazy arrangement.

He booked a private plane and luxury rooms for us and all his friends, gathered all the information we would need to file for our marriage license online—which we retrieved as soon as we landed—hired a wedding coordinator to organize a small intimate ceremony for us in the hotel, and he had a ring.

An absolutely gorgeous ring that’s way too big and expensive.

What on earth is he trying to do to me?

My cell phone rings in the distance, slicing through my spiraling thoughts. I rush to dig it out of my bag and find my best friend’s name flashing across the screen.

“J-Jenna,” I stutter.

“Gwen? What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? I’m freaking the fuck out. That’s what’s wrong.”

“I’m going to need you to chill the fuck out and explain,” Jenna says, her voice calm.

We haven’t spoken since yesterday when Lance interrupted our conversation, and to say that today has been a mystifying set of events is putting it mildly.

I fill her in on every detail.

White noise crackles over the line. I pull my cellphone away from my ear to make sure the call is still connected. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m still here,” she mutters.

“Well?” Her speechlessness is freaking me out more.

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or pissed.”

“What?” I hiss.

“I don’t love the idea of you getting married without me, but Gwen, from what you’ve told me, that man has gone above and beyond to make tonight special for you.”

“But it’s not real.”

My best friend sighs. “Do you want my advice?”