Page 11 of The Wedding Run
“I think he always had them. Did you talk him into marrying me?”
That sounds like an accusation, so I approach with caution. “No, I… He wants to marry you, Libby.” I tug my cell phone out of my hip pocket. “Let me call him.”
But Libby snatches the phone. “Did you think I was desperate to get married or something? Do I look desperate?”
She looks wild-eyed and about to morph into an orc fromThe Lord of the Rings. Her voice has a razor edge, and her wedding dress looks like it’s been dragged through the fire swamp inThe Princess Bride. But I keep that to myself. “Nooo.” I draw out the word in a soothing tone. “If anything, Libby, I believe Derek desperately needs you. He needs to settle down. You’re good for him.”
She looks doubtful about that.
“Look,” I say, noticing the time on my dashboard is now seven minutes until the wedding hour. “You guys can work this out. I’ll talk to him.” I place my hand on the gear shift, but she stops me, her hand clutching mine.
Then she jerks back as if I were a hot griddle. “It’s not Derek. It’s me.”
I take a slow breath. “Derek can be difficult, focused on work, but he’s a good guy.”
Another car zips past, its horn blaring. I suspect it because of the ‘Just Wed’ scribblings all over my truck.
“Can you take me somewhere?" she asks. "Anywhere.”
My jaw clenches, and I make a decision. Some might call it rational. Others, not so much. But something about Libby makes me want to help her. “Okay, hang on.”
I glance in the rearview mirror, checking to be sure the highway is clear, and then I gun the engine, turning the wheel hard, making a squealing U-turn.
Like a train barreling down on us, a clattering sound roars against my ears.
She covers her ears. “Is your engine about to explode?”
“You’re safe,” I yell back. But I pull to the side of the road again, and the grinding sound stops. “Be right back.”
I hop out and hustle to the back, rip away the cans Rob tied onto the bumper, and toss them in the truck bed. I should have done it earlier, but I was in a hurry.
When I settle behind the steering wheel, I explain, “Tin cans. The other groomsman decorated my truck.”
She looks at the ‘Congrats’ on the driver’s side window and ‘Honeymoon or Bust’ on the opposite side as if just noticing them.
“We had a limo coming.” She rubs her forehead. “Which I hope Charlie cancels.”
A car passes slowly, and the driver honks to the cadence ofHere Comes the Bride.
I wince and start driving again.
She waggles my phone. “Can I make a call?”
“Sure.”
She dials, and I try not to listen. But of course, I can’t help it.
“Elle?” Libby says. “Yeah, yeah. I’m okay. I’m with Luke.”
She glances at me, but I keep my gaze trained on the road.
“It’s not like that,” she continues. “It was Momma’s letter.”
I slam on a mental brake. Oh no. Will everyone, including Derek, think I stole the bride away from the groom?
“I need some time to process,” Libby says. “My iPad has everything… all my lists and contacts. Charlie, make sure you cancel the?—"
But she pauses as whoever is on the other end speaks.
