Chapter 3

 

 

 

Afton

 

 

The man who interrupted my wedding settles next to me on the back seat of the limo, slamming the door behind him.

I didn’t invite him along for the ride. I assumed once we stepped out into the evening air that he’d head in another direction, but he followed me to the car. He hasn’t taken his eyes off the phone in his hand since we left the church.

I pat the driver on the shoulder. “I need you to drive. I don’t care where, but get me away from this church now.”

“Is everything all right?” He stares at us in the rearview mirror. “The groom looks a little rough around the edges.”

“He’s not the groom.”

He cocks one graying eyebrow. “Do I want to know what’s going on here?”

“I’m the bride,” I point out even though it’s blatantly obvious based on the way I’m dressed. “My dad paid for the rental of this car, so let’s move.”

“I’m on it.” He shifts the car into drive, easing it away from the curb.

I turn back to look at the church’s entrance. My parents, Joel, and Nelson are standing on the steps next to Warren. He’s still holding my bouquet in one hand. His phone is in the other. He’s talking to someone as he watches the limo drive away, complete with theJust Marriedsign in the window.

I reach back and rip it down, tossing it on the floor of the car.

The man next to me skims his finger over the screen of his phone. “I went to the wrong damn church. What the hell is wrong with me?”

You’re drunk.

Those words play on my tongue, but I ignore them.

He smells delicious under the odor of something that I think is whiskey.

“Did you drink a lot today?” I ask as I tug at the front of my dress. “Why is it so hot in here?”

“The air conditioning is on its highest setting.” The driver pipes up from the front seat, his gaze glued to me in the rearview mirror.

“It must be broken.” I fan a hand in front of my face. “I have to get out of this dress.”

The stranger rakes me over. “I ruined your wedding. I fucking ruined your wedding.  I was looking for Brooklyn.”

“Brooklyn?” I ask, surprise edging my tone. “This is Manhattan. You’re in the wrong borough.”

He shakes his head. “That’s her name. Her name is Brooklyn, and she’s marrying him right now.”

I rub a hand over the back of my neck. I feel faint. I know it’s anxiety, but I need to rid myself of this dress before I blackout. “Can you unzip my dress?”

I turn so my back is facing the stranger. He offers nothing but a series of questions. “You’re going to undress? Here? Now?”

“It’s too tight.” I wave a hand in the air over my shoulder. “Unzip it. I need to breathe.”

The driver’s phone starts ringing.

“Albert Neal,” he mutters under his breath. “Who the hell is Albert Neal?”

“Don’t answer that,” I blurt out. “Please don’t answer it. They’re looking for me.”

“You know Albert Neal?” He quizzes my reflection in the rearview mirror.

“He’s my dad.” I fall back on the seat, realizing that the stranger isn’t going to unzip me.

I take a series of steady deep breaths to calm myself down.

“Where are we headed?” The driver catches my eye again in the mirror. “I heard someone say Brooklyn.”

“No.” The stranger shakes his head. “Her name is Brooklyn. I need to go to this church to stop her wedding.”

He turns his phone, so the screen is facing the driver.

I catch the roll of the driver’s eyes. “Read the address to me, pal. I have to keep my baby blues on the road.”

“Right.” The stranger nods.

He calls out an address just a few blocks from where we are.

I want out of this car and away from these two, but that’s not going to happen until we drop this guy off at the right church. Then, I can figure out where the hell I’m going.

If I rush home, everyone will be waiting for me.

I have a few friends who might be willing to take me in for the night, but they were at my wedding. They’ll have a million questions about what I just did, and besides, I don’t have a way to reach them.

My phone is back at the church.

Memorizing numbers has never been my strong suit. The only phone number I know off by heart is Joel’s.

“I’m Luke.”

I turn at the sound of the stranger’s deep voice. He’s not attempting a smile. There’s no joy in his voice.

I see panic in his expression.

“I’m Afton.”

“Afton Neal?”

I nod. “You heard the driver ask about my dad.”

“Yeah,” he acknowledges with a curt nod. “I’m so fucking sorry that I messed up your wedding.”

Shaking my head, I manage a small smile. “I did that.”

He gazes at the skirt of my dress. “I thought I was in the right place when I objected.”

“I was in the wrong place when you objected,” I admit.

“The church you’re looking for is up ahead,” the driver announces as we turn a corner.

Grabbing the back of the front passenger seat with one hand, Luke slides his ass forward. His gaze is focused on the street ahead.

“I hope you get there in time,” I say softly.

His blue eyes latch onto my face. “Me too.”

As the driver steers the car closer to the curb, Luke attempts to open the limo’s door.

“Hey, big fella.” The driver laughs lightly. “Give me a minute to stop.”

Luke does, but as soon as the car is in park, he’s out the door, headed up the church steps two at a time before he disappears from view behind a wooden door etched with carvings.