Page 30 of Wedding Wrecker

“What I’m saying is that this might be a mistake. I proposed too fast, and now that I saw more of Madison’s personality, I’m not sure she’s the one,” I whisper, fighting the choking sensation in my throat.

The silence following my words is like a void about to swallow me whole, but then Mom speaks, pinning me to the wall with the heat of her brown gaze.

“That girl is the best thing that ever happened to you. Her father already said he’d help you get the degree you want. You will have a much better life than anyone in this family ever had, and you want to throw that away?” A mean smile tugs at her mouth. “I think we both know what this really is about, so don’t blame that poor girl for your own failings.”

My heart freezes because she doesn’t need to be explicit for both of us to understand her meaning. “But—”

Mom silences me with a gesture. “No ‘buts’! Think of the life your children will get to have thanks to that girl. You should be worshiping the ground she walks on. There. Get dressed, I’ve had enough of your nonsense,” she says, presenting me with the pristine suit.

I make myself nod, even though the walls seem to move closer, about to squish me into the mold everyone wants me to embody. I say nothing as Mom leaves, but as soon as she’s gone, the sense of doom that’s been growing in the background is suddenly right upon me, and I rest against the wall, trying to calm my breath as the floor shakes under my bare feet.

I know nothing can physically stop me from putting on regular clothes, getting into my car, and driving off, but if I do that, my life will be over. Mom would never speak to me again, and whatever dreams I have about a happy family, big Christmas dinners, and gathering together each Sunday could never be salvaged.

My freedom is theoretical.

So I put my numb limbs into motion, pull on my socks, my pants, the shirt. Each garment brings me closer to marrying Madison, and the tie feels like a noose about to extinguish my life. I have to take a deep breath after putting on the suit jacket.

She’s just a bridezilla, I tell myself. It’s just the wedding that drove her crazy. Remember how nice it was when you first met her?

But when there’s a knock at the door, I flinch as if I have wedding PTSD already.

“Come in,” I say weakly.

But instead of Madison coming over to check if I’ve used the lint roller correctly, the person who enters is Logan.

And he locks the door behind him.

Chapter 12

Kyle

The click of the lock brings the dying butterflies in my stomach to life. I stop breathing, and my feet remain stuck to the floor as I stare at the beautiful intruder, whose steel gray eyes point straight at me, so sharp their gaze is almost painful. He’s wearing a well-tailored denim blue suit jacket over a white shirt with no tie, and his brown hair is perfectly styled, as if he were the one getting married, not I.

What is he doing in my room so close to the ceremony? Hasn’t he already complicated my life enough?

The button at his collar is open in invitation, and as he approaches, the fresh scent of his cologne washes over me with the force of a flash flood.

“You look good,” he says, tapping his Stetson against his thigh. His legs are so long and firm, and I’m already mourning whatever we maybe could have had if I wasn’t getting married in a few hours. I shouldn’t long for another person while in a relationship, but I can’t help feeling sorry that I didn’t even get to see Logan naked. It’s too late for that now, because my life is already set on a steady course, and I can’t risk everything by jumping ship.

“Hi,” I say, crossing my arms on my chest as I lean against the near-empty desk. “Are they calling me over for some reason?” I ask, even though my brother, or any of my friends could have come here if that was the case.

“No, I just thought I’d check in on you. Nervous?” he asks, but his approach, while slow, does not stop. He’s like a puma with those bright eyes devouring me. One more step, and he’ll be breaking into my personal space, but while I know I should tell him to open the door or put a stop to his steady movement toward me, I can’t bring myself to do it.

My skin is already licked by fire, but I stay where I am, letting him come closer despite knowing nothing good could come out of this. I’m not an idiot. I know why he’s here, and between my longing for him and uncertainty about marriage, I do nothing to stop him.

“Yeah.”

I stop breathing when he leans close, and I half-expect a kiss, but he’s just placing his hat on the table behind me. He’s clean-shaven today, and his breath smells of cherry and mint.

It’s not normal for a man to stand so close to another male, and yet there he is, acting as if it’s the most natural thing to do.

“So you’re going through with it?”

Even his voice, low and smooth as sugar syrup, is intoxicating, and I feel as if my mind isn’t working right, because I have no idea what he’s referring to. All I can think of is how much I want to unbutton that shirt and rub my face against it until I’m smothered and don’t need to make the choice between marrying a girl I’m not certain of and my family’s approval.

“With what?”

His smile is stiff when he taps my chin with his fingers. “Sweetie. With your wedding.”