Page 3 of Runaway Bride's Guide to Love

Tonight the answer is a resounding yes.

Duncan and his boys hoot and holler after they slam their glasses back down, giving each other a round of high-fives like they just won a game. I don’t say anything, instead continuing to shoot a death glare at my soon-to-be husband, hands on my hips and foot tapping.

I’ll wait here all night if need be. I’m as stubborn as I am Southern.

And I amverySouthern. I have the monogrammed towels, bag, and water bottle to prove it.

Duncan finally turns to face me, letting out an audible sigh as I signal with my eyes that I need to talk to him. After a few more seconds of a silent stare-down, he starts walking back to where Whitley and I just came from.

“Fine. Here I am. What is so important that you had to drag me away and cause a scene?”

I swallow the laugh that bubbled to the surface at the thought that my request was a scene. Since we’ve gotten together, I’ve calmed my dramatic ways. I’m an adult, after all, in an adult relationship, with an adult job, and adult money. I’m too old to be causing scenes.

Now college and early twenties Stella? She’s a whole other story…

“I just talked to Whitley,” I begin. And it’s at this moment I decided to play a little dumb. I don’t know why my brain is telling me that’s the move, but I’m going with my gut. “She informed me that none of the vendors that we were responsible for have been paid, which means they aren’t showing up tomorrow.”

I might not be a lawyer, but I work with enough to know that a face can give anything away. The slightest movement. A tick in their jaw. Irregular breathing. Removing eye contact.

But Duncan’s face doesn’t move. Not even a millimeter. Hedoes hesitate to answer, but that’s not uncommon for him. The man is always careful with his words. He is a lawyer, after all.

“Stella…babe…Whitley has her facts mixed up. I paid this week, like you asked me to. Clearly she’s trying to pull one over on us. Maybe she thinks she’ll get paid more if she saves the day?”

And there’s lie number one.

“Really, Duncan?That’syour theory?”

“I don’t know, Stella. Why is this my problem?”

Maybe because you’re lying to me? Maybe because it’s our fucking wedding?

“Duncan, you have one chance and one chance right now to tell me what’s going on. And the truth. None of your lawyer bullshit. Because if you thought that was a scene, you have no idea what’s in store for you.”

My parents always called me tiny but mighty. Which made sense. I was always short—even now with my stilettos I might hit five-foot-five—but the mighty part was their polite way of saying to not fuck with me. Or those I care about. I’ve never cared if I was a foot shorter than someone; I wasn’t going to be bullied. Someone messing with you? Excuse me while I take off my earrings so I can properly swing. I might love my shoes, but I’ll throw one like a ninja star if the situation calls for it.

Though I don’t know if Duncan has ever seen that side of me. I’ve tried to tame the crazy since we got together three-and-a-half years ago. I learned that you can still defend those you love without having to make a spectacle.

Though I have a feeling a spectacle is exactly what’s about to happen if he doesn’t fess up.

Duncan looks around before taking my hand and pulling me even farther into the hallway. He tilts his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose. When he looks back down at me, an overwhelming look of sadness is written across his face. “I fucked up.”

I do my best to stay calm. At least he’s telling the truth now. “What happened?”

He lets out a defeated sigh as he reaches for both of my hands, giving them a simultaneous squeeze. “I got caught up in a few deals.”

“What kind of deals?” My voice is shaky. How could it not be? I feel like the world is falling out from under me.

“That’s not important. I just…I thought…they seemed like sure things.”

They never are—that’s one thing my dad taught me years ago—but I know my commentary isn’t what’s needed right now. “I’m guessing they weren’t?”

His face is remorseful, maybe the most sorry he’s ever looked in our time together, and that’s including the time he forgot to pick me up from the airport. “I’m so sorry Stella. I know I should’ve told you, and I know this is all my fault. And I’m sorry, but I turned off your alert notifications because I didn’t want to stress you out about this. I wanted to fix this. I owed money, and I needed it quickly, so I had no choice but to take it from our account.”

He changed my settings? Did he change my password too? I’m adding that the list of questions for later.

“And the credit cards?”

His face flashes signs of guilt. I hadn’t brought up the credit card on purpose. And I bet if I hadn’t, he would’ve just played off the fact that he maxed out a card. Or just emptied the bank account.

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