Page 5 of Runaway Bride's Guide to Love

I’m so damn confused.

Because that smile that’s trying to comfort me is also coming from the man who just stole money from me. And wouldn’t have told me about it had the vendors been paid earlier. Or if Whitley hadn’t told me. Or that I chose to unsuspiciously call him out on the hunch about multiple credit cards.

How is this happening right now?

The rest of the night goes by in a haze. People come up to us and shake our hands and wish us well for tomorrow. We smile and take pictures and everything on the outside is business as usual.

On the inside, though? I’m having feelings I never thought I’d have twelve hours before I’m supposed to get married.

Do I really want to get married to Duncan Hughes?

guide to love rule #19

Go with your gut. It’s usually never wrong.

2

stella

Since I got engagedlast year, I’ve been waiting forthemoment.

The moment when I felt like a bride.

I’m now an hour away from hearing the wedding march played, and I’m still waiting. At this point, I’ve given up that it’s going to happen. Because it didn’t happen when he proposed. Or when we had our engagement photos taken. Or at the engagement party. Even last night when we were practicing for today, I didn’t get a single butterfly that this is real.

Maybe I missed out because I didn’t go wedding dress shopping. Yes. That has to be it. I didn’t get mySay Yes to the Dressmoment and that’s when I was going to feel like a bride.

Why didn’t I go wedding dress shopping? Great story, would love to tell you.

I’m what you call a people pleaser. Not as much as my sister Ainsley, but I generally want to be liked. Whether it’s being the go-to girl at the office for anything and everything, or being the friend you call on for the range of grabbing drinks to burying a body, I want to be that person.

And when it comes to being liked by my future mother-in-law? I was willing to do almost anything. Including wearing her wedding dress.

From the moment we started dating, I had a feeling Sheila Hughes didn’t like me. And that wasn’t going to do. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get her to budge. I hosted dinners. Asked for recipes. I found a first edition book she loves to give her for Christmas. I even watched her little yappy dog that bit me.

Still, nothing but cold shoulders.

Then one night we were at her house for dinner, and I was telling her that I was going dress shopping that weekend with my mom and sisters. Next thing I knew she was in tears. And I’m not talking about “a little choked up” tears. I’m talking full-on, need a pill, meltdown. She was going on about how she always wished she’d had a daughter so she could wear her wedding dress. She kept going on and on about how fashion forward it was for the late eighties and that it made her heart hurt that it was sitting in her attic collecting dust. In a moment of panic and desperation, I said that I’d wear it. That I’d be honored to.

Now today, as my own mother puts on the veil that went with the dress—which looks like it’s sprouting baby’s breath from sixteen directions—I’m regretting that decision.

I think I’m regretting this whole thing…

No. I’m not. Probably. I’m just thinking those thoughts because I’m staring at myself wearing a dress with more tulle and taffeta than should be legal in a garment—not the strapless, fitted mermaid-style dress with a sweetheart neckline that I had on my wedding vision board.

At least I’m wearing my white satin Louboutins. There’s still a little Stella in this look. Even if you can’t see it under the thirty-seven pounds and ten feet of fabric.

"There we go,” my mom says as she steps away to look at me through the full-length mirror. “My baby is officially a bride.”

I stare at my reflection, willing myself to have the feeling.

But nothing. Nada. Zilch. The only thing I’m feeling are tearswelling in my eyes, because this is not how I expected to feel on my wedding day.

I didn’t expect to not feel like a bride.

Or have the knowledge that my husband squandered our money.

And then tried to lie about it.

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