Page 98 of The Wrong Husband
When I suggested we elope, he didn’t blink. Just pulled me in for a kiss, then reached for his phone to make arrangements. We stopped at my place for my passport—he wouldn’t let me pack. “I’ll get you everything,” he said.
I already had my wedding dress with me.
Now, on a private jet he summoned with a single call, I wonder if he hoped I’d suggest this. He was ready. Waiting.
Maybe, I’ve unleashed something I can’t rein in. Because beneath his charm and care, Connor is a predator—a man who claims what he wants. And now, that’s me.
Maybe, this is the coward’s way out, but I didn’t want a London wedding. I don’t want my family—or Drew—there. If hefound out before I could speak to him, it would only make things worse.
I’ll tell him. Just not yet. I pull out my phone and message him.
Me:Will be away a couple of days. Something urgent came up.
I send it off, but it stays unread. A few more minutes pass without any change in status. Guess he must be busy?
I start to message my mom, then stop. Because if I message her, she’ll call. And once she calls, I’ll have to explain everything—how I met Connor, why I agreed to marry someone I barely know.
She’ll worry.
Of course, that’s a bit late to consider now… I’m already on the flight.
I should’ve told her when I first started thinking about it. Or maybe, years ago, when I met Drew.
Better yet, I should’ve called her more often after I left home.
I remember being close to her when I was younger.
But after I hit puberty, she became stricter, less forgiving. One set of expectations for my brothers… And another for me.
So, I left for a life that didn’t require her permission or approval.
But deep down, under all that defiance… I’m still reaching for her approval.
Because if I can just pull this off—if I can fix something, save something, protect something that matters—maybe then, I’ll finally be enough.
Now, the distance between us feels like too much to surmount.
Instead of my mum, I message James and let him know that I'm eloping with Connor. I tell him not to be pissed off, that this was my decision, and that I'm happy.
Then, I message my friends’ group chat.
Me:I’m on a plane. To Gibraltar.
Instantly, the dots jump around.
Harper:Gibraltar? What’s in Gibraltar?
Grace:Read the room Harp. Why does one go to Vegas? Hint: it’s not for the gambling.
Harper:Wh-a-a-a-t? No way Phe! Is that why you’re headed to Gibraltar?
Zoey:Are you sure?
It’s my turn to pause. My thoughts run pell-mell through my mind, then I type out:
Me:I’m not. But also, I kind of am. It’s complicated.
Zoey:Considering the off-the-charts chemistry I saw between you two… Can I just ask—are you marrying Connor?
