Page 2 of Faking It With My Pucking Protector
How could I have been so stupid?
“I… I need…” I hand her the phone like it’s burning me. “I need air.”
I lunge for my clutch on instinct, snatching it from the chair where I left it earlier.
Jenna starts to say something, but a knock sounds at the door.
“Ava?” Brad’s voice is muffled but clear. “Sweetheart? Are you in there?”
My whole body locks up. Jenna’s eyes widen, then narrow with resolve. She moves fast, crossing the room and flicking the lock on the door.
“Now’s not a good time, Brad,” she calls out. Her voice doesn’t shake. “Tradition and all.”
There’s a pause. Then, “Come on, Jenna. Just for a second.”
Jenna doesn’t budge. “We’re not breaking tradition.”
Another pause. A sigh. A curse. Footsteps retreating.
She turns back to me, fierce and wild-eyed. “He’s not going to charm his way out of this. Not today.”
That’s all it takes. My knees bend before I know what I’m doing. I grab the bottom of my dress and move.
“I’ll cover for you,” Jenna says, low and steady.
The full sweep of my gown snags on a decorative chair leg. I stumble, curse under my breath, and wrench it free.
And then I’m running, pushing through the side door of the church before anyone else can see me.
Before the pianist starts playing.
Before my father steps into the aisle expecting to find his daughter ready to become a wife.
A wife to a cheater.
A liar.
The moment the door opens, cool spring air rushes against my overheated skin, and I suck it in like it’s life-saving. The music swells behind me, muffled by the thick chapel walls, but the sound is unmistakable.
They’ve started. Or they think they have.
Through the glass-paneled side door, I catch a glimpse of the crowd inside: the flutter of programs, the nervous laughs, the eager glances toward the back of the aisle. My mom. My dad. Greg. All of them waiting.
I am supposed to walk down that aisle.
I can’t do this. I can’t marry him. I can’t even breathe in that building anymore.
A fresh wave of panic claws its way through my chest. The guests. The vows. The promises built on lies. My stomach flips violently, and I squeeze my clutch tighter in my hand, knuckles whitening.
I step off the stone landing, but the heel of my shoe snags the bottom of my dress. I stumble, a tearing sound catching somewhere beneath me as the delicate hem near my ankle gives way. I push forward anyway, yanking free, breathing hard, the cold biting at my lungs.
The world tilts. And I run.
My world has cracked open, and all I can think is…
What now?
The panic doesn’t subside. If anything, it sharpens, crowding my thoughts until they’re too loud. I press a hand to my chest, but it does nothing to slow the frantic pounding of my heart. Somewhere inside the chapel, a murmur rises. Voices. More music.
