Page 106 of Runaway Bride’s Husband

In the end, Holden got the girl’s number and headed back to the hotel with us. Blessedly alone in my room twenty minutes later, I finally slowed down, showering, shaving, and changing, but also actually letting myself think about what I was doing here.

As I turned toward the mirror and adjusted my tie, I looked at my reflection, deeming the dark suit with its clean lines good enough, but instead of looking away like I usually would’ve after I’d given myself a onceover, I caught my own gaze and just kept staring back at myself.

I’d spent years clawing and scraping my way to where I was now, working until exhaustion had become part of my routine and never giving up. I’d learned to become useful, expending myself to the brink to be helpful so I would be harder to discard.

As I looked at myself now, however, I didn’t see any of that. All I saw was a man who’d never just taken what he wanted, consequences be damned. Maggie had run, she’d fought, and she’d treated every rule she’d grown up with like she’d rather set the entire rulebook on fire than abide.

Meanwhile, I’d been there, urging her to go back and accept something she didn’t want simply because it was sensible. What complete and utter bullshit is that? Fuck being sensible.

For once in my life, I wanted to be selfish, to find out what would happen if I just didn’t stop to ask for permission, and to take what I wanted the same way I’d watched so many others do. If ever there was a time for it, it was now, but that led me to a question I’d been stubbornly avoiding for over a month.

Is this really how I want it to end?

CHAPTER 46

MAGGIE

The morning of my wedding, I drove to Deerfield, praying that the thrift store would be open. As soon as I pulled up out front and saw a little rectangular sign on the door, I realized it wasn’t, but there was a light on inside, so maybe I still had a chance.

I climbed out of the car slowly, reaching into the back seat next and carefully extracting the garment bag I’d brought with me. As I knocked on the door, part of me hoped no one would be here. I had to do this, but maybe⁠—

A woman much younger than Viola, perhaps in her fifties, appeared on the other side of the glass, cracking open the door with an apologetic smile on her lips. “I’m sorry. We don’t open for another thirty minutes.”

“That’s okay. I was just looking for Viola. Is she here yet?”

“Um, no. I’m afraid she’s not. Maybe I can help you. I’m her daughter.” She glanced at the garment bag in my hands. “Are you unhappy with a purchase you made?”

“Oh, no,” I said quickly, stepping into the store when she pulled the door further open. “I didn’t buy this, but I was hoping to return it. Donate it, I suppose. It shouldn’t just be hanging in a closet. Do you have any idea when your mother might be in?”

She grimaced. “I don’t. Hopefully, it’ll be soon. Maybe toward the end of the week, but she had some medical problems a few nights ago and she’s still in the hospital.”

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

She waved me in and pressed the door shut behind us. “The doctors have assured me she’ll recover. They’re just running a few tests before they discharge her.”

“I really hope she’s okay,” I murmured. “Do you mind sending her my best? I can bring the dress by again another day.”

Her head cocked as she looked back at me. “Are you the Pembroke girl, by any chance? Hugh’s granddaughter.”

My eyebrows inched up. “How did you know?”

She offered me a soft smile and shook her head. “My mother warned me that this might happen. She left something for you.”

I frowned. “She did?”

“Yeah. Hang on. Just give me a moment. I’ll find it for you.” She disappeared into the back office and returned with a small envelope only moments later. “My mom has always been exceptionally good at reading people. She just somehow seems to know when people are going to need her. It’s uncanny, really.”

I stared at the envelope in my hand with emotion clogging my throat. “It really is.”

Drawing out the single sheet of paper from a notebook, I unfolded it and did a double take when I saw the two words scrawled inside in loopy, feminine handwriting, Be Brave.

“Thank you,” I whispered, letting my eyes slide shut before I hugged the dress to my chest. “I might just hang onto this. If that’s okay.”

“Of course.” She walked me out, wishing me luck.

I left and drove back to the venue, where the carnival was coming to life as the folks in charge started testing the rides and turning on the lights.

Tears jumped to my eyes as I strode to the bridal suite, where I’d be getting myself ready this time. That had been part of my conditions for today. I didn’t want a swarm of people in there with me, no makeup artists, hairstylists, or press. Mom nearly had a coronary, but Cathy had promised to personally help with my hair and makeup, which had probably saved my mother from a trip to the ER.