Page 1 of Rider Daddies
1
LUCIA
It’s an emergency.I’m getting married in twenty minutes and can’t find my veil. Everything is already a disaster.
“It’s bad luck,” I say to one of my bridesmaids.
“No, it’s not. You stay here and take a chill pill. I’ll go on a hunt for it.”
I give her a nod and exhale a shaky breath, observing the surroundings. South Lake Tahoe isn’t too shabby of a venue. It’s a beautiful day with crystal clear skies, sugar pine trees spread left right and center.
Everything about today is perfect…except my outfit.
“Ugh.” I gather up my skirts and duck under a floral arrangement. Two people searching for a veil is better than one. I can’t get married without this thing. Isn’t it bad luck?
I swing past a tree and head back toward the venue, beelining for the bridal suite.
Tristan and I have only known one another a year, but everything has been smooth sailing with us. He’s made merealize that the male species aren’t all the same. Not every man has to be a cheating bastard, gallivanting off having affairs like my papa.
My papa is the reason Mamma and I moved to California in the first place. I was sixteen years old when we flew all the way from Sicily, Italy. It was a daunting experience, packing up my life and starting it all over again in a new country, but it was the best thing Mamma ever did for us. She works in Silicon Valley, and I work at a law firm in San Francisco. It’s actually how Tristan and I met.
He was my mentor on the first day, a charming man. He’s always had a way with words and somehow managed to talk me into bed a few days after meeting him. He has an athletic build and a kind face.
To be honest, with him, it’s not really about the sex. That’s not the reason I fell in love with him, anyway. It was his personality. The kind gestures. The flowers every Monday to signify the day of the week we first met.
He calls me beautiful every day and doesn’t have a wandering eye, which is what I want from a man, especially since my own father couldn’t keep it in his pants.
“Honey, where are you going?”
“My veil. I can’t get married without my veil.”
Mamma’s face turns, all of the blood draining away. She gently brings my hand to hers and focuses her eyes on me. This is how she was when she told me Papa was fucking that bitch Gianna from two streets down.
“Mamma?”
“You don’t need the veil.”
“Yes I do, what are you talking?—?”
“You can’t marry Tristan.”
My heart shudders. Mamma and I have a good relationship. It’s been just us two for nine years. We understand each other, which is why I feel cold to the bone that she’s looking at me like this.
A tear forms in the corner of my eye, anxiety pressing in on my stomach. Something is wrong. “Why can’t I marry him? What’s going on?”
She brings her finger up to my eye, wiping the single tear away. “See for yourself.” She gestures behind her. There’s anger in her face now, chin starting to tremble. “Have a look around the back of the bridal suite.”
I lift up my skirts and rush past her, breath running away from me. It catches in my throat, more tears streaming. What the fuck is going on?
Part of my dress snags on a tree branch. I tug it away, ripping the fabric slightly, but the state of my dress isn’t my main concern anymore.
I fall into a run, stumbling over tree roots as I ascend the small hill. The venue is at the top. When I make it, I don’t stop to catch my breath; there’s no time. I run around the back of the venue, into the trees.
My heart stops.
It’s Tristan, locking lips with Willow, one of my bridesmaids.
But not just any bridesmaid.
