Page 14 of Runaway Bride's Guide to Love

“Okay, I’m Tiger and you’re…” She trails off. “I’m not sure.”

“It’s okay,” I extend my hand to guide her back to the bar. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

When we sit back down, the bartender places my burger and drink in front of me, and two shots of what looks to be whiskey.

“Should we toast?”

She nods as we pick up our glasses. “To not getting married.”

I clink her glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

5

emmett

“You’re kidding me?He stole from your wedding accountandmaxed out your joint credit card? And you found this out last night?”

“Yup! He did and I did!” Tiger slams her hands on the bar. “Credit card declined. No money in account. Vendors weren’t going to show up. And you want to know the worst part?”

“That wasn’t the worst part?”

“Nope. The worst part was that I was going to go through with it. He tried to lie to me. Only reason he told me any part of the truth was because I caught him in a trap. He had every excuse. Every reason. Hell, he might not even be telling the truth now. And I was still going to marry him. Forgive him. For richer or poorer and all that bullshit. That’s the worst.”

“You were in love.” I mean, I assume she was. That’s why you’d get married, right? I wouldn’t know. I’ve never seriously dated anyone, let alone have thoughts of marriage. But I assume love has something to do with it.

“I was stupid.” She finishes off her beer in record time. Good lord this girl can drink. “Jim…why was I stupid? Was I in love or stupid?”

“Jim?”

She nods down to the drink in front of me. “Your drink. You’re drinking Jim Beam and Coke. I thought we could test run Jim as your nickname.”

“Not the worst I’ve had,” I say, taking a sip. “But I think you can do better.”

She thinks about it for a second before nodding. “You’re right. I can. I can do better with nicknames. With men. With…” She stops for a second before picking up her beer. “With drinking!”

I laugh. “I think you’re doing just fine with that.”

“I think that’s the only thing.” She hangs her head, which causes her veil to cover her face. It would be comical if this wasn’t so heartbreaking. “I’m an idiot, Jim. Can you believe that I almost married a man who spent our entire savings on a Ponzi scheme and hookers? Though the hooker I met was very nice. I don’t know if there were others.”

Did I hear her right? “You met his hooker? You mean you wereactuallythere for the whipping and spanking thing you were screaming about earlier?”

“It was flogging. And yes.”

Tiger throws back her who-knows-what-count shot of whiskey. The fact that she isn’t flinching when the burn hits her is quite impressive.

Then again, we are both very, very drunk. Me not as much as her, but holy shit, this little thing is giving me a run for my money.

“I did. Well, I feel like hooker has a negative connotation. Sex work is work, you know? And she was more of a dominatrix. Her name is Nadia. She looked like a Nadia. She told me I was pretty. That was so sweet of her.”

How is she saying all of this like it’s everyday conversation?

“I didn’t know he liked to be flogged. I smacked his ass once, and he told me I was too rough. Oh, and did I mention this all happened an hour before our wedding? In our honeymoon suite?”

I nearly drop my drink. “You found out about the money thing and the hooker thing in twenty-four hours?”

“You bet your sweet ass I did.” She only pauses to take a sip of the refilled beer that magically appeared in front of her. What kind of alcohol hasn’t she drank tonight? “Which is how I ended up at the bar. I got in the elevator and just ran. Didn’t go get my purse. Didn’t tell my family or friends. Luckily had my phone in the handy dandy pockets I had put into this fugly wedding dress.”

“Fugly?”

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