Page 57 of My Favorite Bad Decision
He’s right once again. All that matters at the moment is getting out of New York City before my mother can guilt me into changing my mind. And now that it’s decided, it almost feels as if I was being held captive. As if I’ll be chained to Blake’s side if anyone sees me here.
I was a willing participant two weeks ago. Now marrying him seems like a fate worse than death.
“I need my passport,” I say frantically, looking around us. “It’s still in my bag from the trip.”
“I’ve got a car waiting outside. We’ll swing by your apartment on the way, but I’m giving you five minutes or I’m coming in after you.”
I smile at him. It’s the exact sort of bullshit misogyny I’d have lashed out at a week ago. Now I’m simply glad that someone else has my back.
We get my coat—there are no familiar faces in the lobby, thank God—and rush out to the car. Even inside it, I still don’t feel as if this is behind me—as if a SWAT team might descend from helicopters at any moment—and I have no idea how we’ll pull this off regardless since most flights to the Caribbean leave New York earlier in the day. “Can we even get to Turks and Caicos this late?”
He grins. “We’ve got a flight. You might not love it, however.”
“Oh God, you’re not making me fly coach?”
He tugs a lock of my hair. “No, Kitten. I wouldn’t dream of making you fly coach, and we were too likely to be seen at the airport if we flew commercial. We’re taking your dad’s plane.”
I sigh, though I’m smiling. “He issucha meddler. And right now, he’s probably back at the party, acting just as shocked and surprised as everyone else that I’m not there.”
“I’m sure he’s criticizing your tardiness the most of anyone,” says Miller with a laugh. “And blaming your mother.”
We pull in front of my apartment and I race upstairs to grab the purse I flew home with. I contemplate grabbing the ashes from my luggage but for some reason it feels wrong, bringing Rob along for this. I’m not sure why.
I lock the door and rush back to the car.
He glances at his watch. “Under three minutes. I’m impressed.”
I raise a four-inch Louboutin in the air. “I wonder how these will fare in the sand.”
He grins. “You’ll be the sexiest girl on the beach.”
“That went without saying,” I reply, just as my phone starts buzzing in my lap—multiple texts landing at once.
Mom
Where the hell are you?
Maren
You’d better not be in bed.
Charlie
Your sister and your mother are hyperventilating. It’s fascinating to watch.
Dad
Your mother is making a scene, Kit. Please reply.
I reply to the entire family at once, telling them I got sick in the cab and had to return home. I guess they’ll tell Blake. I wince at the idea of him in that room, excited for this big night. I remind myself that he’d probably start scrolling on his phone two seconds after I saidyes.
My mother calls, and I turn the phone face down in my lap and blow out a breath.
Should I be doing this? Should I be leaving? It’s shitty. It’ssoshitty. My mother will be upset, and she’ll need someone to fix this. Normally that person would be me, but I’m not there. And Blake isn’t a saint, but I guess he did plan this thing, and…
“I know you’re feeling guilty,” Miller says softly, “but if Blake knew the first thing about you, he wouldn’t have done it like this. Or even worse, hedoesknow you well enough and realized this would force your hand because you wouldn’t want to embarrass him.”
He squeezes my hand and I squeeze his back, examining his angular jaw, his lovely mouth. Miller would know better than to subject me to a public spectacle with the press there to capture it. When he proposes to his future wife, it will be a special moment, intimate, and even if a hundred other people are watching, he’ll make sure it’s something that belongs just to the two of them. My heart squeezes tight in my chest.
