Page 31 of The Billionaire's Runaway Bride

That’s why, after I step out of the shower a half an hour later and dress, I slump on my bed and skip dinner. I can’t face her or Marian. I don’t want to play nice for the other guests in the dining room either. I still have some nuts and protein bars I picked up at the gas station when I filled up on the drive when I was lost. It’ll hold me over. I am hungry, but not for what I’m sure is another one of Marian’s fabulous home-cooked meals.

I’m hungry for answers. Late into the night, I lie in bed restless and nosy, scrolling for more answers about Lauren and what happened at her wedding.

I search for answers about her ex first, curious how that man could have become her fiancé in the first place. Jeremy Klein. Numerous posts pop up about him, and I fall down a rabbit hole of piecing together a picture of the man Lauren left at the altar.

They met in college, and then many pictures and tags showed up on his social media. It’s clear he’s tried to associate himself with the rich Hendrickson family. It’s even more clear that he’s a womanizer, maybe even worse than anything I’ve ever done. Many women tag him in naughty pictures at bars and parties, all within the timeframe after he met Lauren, including the time since they became engaged. As the pictures and posts progress, Lauren shows up less frequently, and when she is in a group shot, her smile never reach her eyes.

Why, Lauren? Why? I’m desperate to know. She’s too smart, she’s too stubborn, at least around me, to make me believe she would let this cheating scumbag try to shackle her in marriage.

That’s not the worst of it. By the end of my hours of snooping and working together the clues shared online, I see a pattern of Jeremy sticking with Lauren for her wealth. He’s not well-off himself, and I shoot Dalton a message, asking him to look into this chump. I suspect he’s clinging to Lauren only for her money. It sure as heck isn’t for love, and my buddy replies quickly. He’s dabbled with IT work before, his foray into being a nerd. He assures me it doesn’t take long to dig up the dirt on anyone, and he comes through now.

Dalton: He and his dad are hurting for cash. Bankruptcy. Records of foreclosures. Looks like they were wealthy but after the wife died, the dad started being sloppy and they’re struggling now.

Dalton: Why? Who is he?

I sigh and set my phone down. Then I pick it back up. He’s like a dog after a bone sometimes, and if I don’t tell him, he’ll keep texting.

Caleb: Just wondering. I’ll explain later.

I didn’t promise I would explain anytime soon. It rubs me the wrong way how quickly Lauren suspected and worried that her parents or former fiancé could have “sent” me here to find her.

Because this asshole wants her money? It was the most obvious clue, and the most logical one too.

As I lie there and stare at the ceiling, I grow more and more defensive. I hate the idea of Lauren facing this guy ever again. I give up, unable to sleep, and I head downstairs and outside for some fresh air. I thought after all that log splitting that I’d be physically tired and ready to call it a night, but my mind is too alert, racing with worry and questions.

When I find Lauren swinging on the porch swing, my mind clears a bit. Just the sight of her calms me somehow, and I don’t hesitate to approach her sitting there alone.

“Can’t sleep?” I guess as I sit.

The chains squeak and Lauren cringes as we wait for our combined weight to settle. I freeze.

“Can this hold us?” I ask.

“Maybe?” Lauren pushes off the railing with her tiptoes, and I swear we both hold our breath for the first few swings.

“Why, Lauren?” I finally ask.

“Gotta narrow that down.”

“Why would you even get engaged to him?”

She glances at me, a sad frown of resignation on her face. The moon is full and bright, allowing me to make out her features. The dejected expression she wears tempts me. I’m pulled toward her no matter what I tell myself, but I resist reaching over and cupping her chin to make sure she looks at me.

“He started cheating on me with one of my childhood friends. I think it started right before he proposed, and it’s never stopped.”

“You just put up with it?” I hate the accusing tone behind my question, but I can’t help it. I’m mad on her behalf and pissed on the principle of it all. I never stayed faithful to a woman, but I was a heck of a lot smarter than getting mixed up with married women or brides.

“My parents forced me to agree to the wedding and to stick with him.”

I cringe, thinking back to the times I’ve spoken with her father. Jamie has that persuasive personality, but toward his own daughter? That’s too far.

“They’ve raised me to be dependent.”

“Why?”

She sighs, and I know I’m pushing for too much. What she’s sharing feels like too little. It’s frightening to consider the way I want to know everything about her, but on this topic, I’m impatient for the facts.

“Who sent you here?” I’ll never forget how she demanded that. She sounded like a victim, and I hate to think she has been one.

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