Page 89 of The Billionaire's Runaway Bride

She frowns. “Why are you reaching for the emergency brake? Do not think about stopping.”

“The emergency…? No. I’m not stopping.” I lift my hand and pat down, seeking her out through the fabric. I squeeze her leg when I finally reach it. I gasp and swallow, my breathing still uneven as I meet her eye. “It’s going to be okay.”

Her smile is slow but true. She nods and takes a deep breath. But after another moment of quiet, she growls and resumes trying to rip the dress off again.

I pull up at the private airstrip, conveniently nearby, because Jamie isn’t the only rich man I know outside of the Napa Valley.

“Where are we going?” Lauren asks.

I spot Leo through the window of the cockpit, and smile when he nods at the sight of my return. I told him I’d be back quickly—plus one.

I help Lauren out of the car, laughing at the ripped and torn style she’s given the stupid dress. “When we get married, you won’t be wearing this kind of dress.”

She lurches, stopping mid-step instead of hurrying to the plane with me.

We both look back, spotting a long stretch of lace snagged in the open car door.

She grips it, and with a hard tug, she rips it to run with me onto my plane.

Chapter 34

Lauren

The pilot greets Caleb once we enter the plane.

“Caleb, sir. You said we’d be picking up one guest?”

“Leo, meet Lauren.”

The blond swaps the toothpick in his mouth to the other side. “You mean that dress is hiding one woman?”

I giggle, shaking my head. It almost turns hysterical. I feel hysterical, bordering on a wacky surrealism and a rapidly changing reality.

Caleb came. He is here, ready to whisk me away. My heart is so full and happy, brimming with joy and relief. After the harrowing sadness and fear, it feels like emotional whiplash. I wait for my brain to catch up. Yes, this is really happening. No, I won’t see Jeremy ever, ever again.

“Here, sweetheart.” I want to swoon at the sound of his endearment. Tears gather in my eyes again, but I brush them away at the sight of my bag. Not my bag, but the tote I borrowed from Marian’s guest who left her suitcase of clothes at the Goldfinch.

“You…you kept it?”

He nods. “Until we can get you a brand-new wardrobe of your choosing.” He tilts his head to the side and narrows his eyes comically. “Because that isn’t your style, right?” He points at the dress.

“No!” I giggle, so light and happy as I take the bag and hurry to the bathroom at the back of his private plane. My father used to have one, but when he started his vineyards, he made “cuts” to make his business last.

It’s a roomy space to change, and after yanking the veil off, I end up tearing and ripping at the dress to get it off, unable to reach the buttons at the back. It lies in a heap of destroyed fabric, and as I feel the engines revving and hear the roar of the plane readying to get going, I step awkwardly, stomping down on the dress to reach the door.

I’m calmer in these denim shorts and tank top, no longer a beachy California girl, no longer a reluctant bride, but a woman with her own destiny in her hands.

I return to Caleb and sit across from him. He takes my hand and holds it, kissing my knuckles as the adrenaline fades.

“There you are,” he says softly.

“We’re burning that thing,” I vow, jerking my thumb toward the bathroom.

“If that’s what you want.”

I furrow my brow. “Is it toxic? Will the smoke pollute the air?”

He chuckles. “Hell if I know.”

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