Page 75 of The Trouble with Runaway Brides

“He’s a good provider,” my dad says.

My mom smacks him. “We had two dimes when we got married. Marriage isn’t about providing.”

“It used to be centuries ago.” My dad winks at Brinley, who giggles. He loves to razz my mom.

“You love him, right?” There are tears in Mom’s eyes, and she looks choked up.

“Mom,” I sigh.

Brinley looks away as though she can’t bear to see me lie to my mom. My mom studies my face for a long time, and I fake a smile, hoping it passes muster.

“What do you love about him?” she asks.

“Mom, I’m going to be late. The wedding is starting soon.”

She doesn’t let go of my hands. “Kenzie?”

“He can get me in all the good restaurants?” I laugh, but it’s hollow. No one else in the room makes a sound, and now my dad looks skeptical. “I’m kidding. Would I really marry someone I didn’t love?”

“You tell me. You”—Mom points at me—“don’t look like a happy bride.”

I release a shuddering breath. “I’m nervous.”

“I was nervous when I married your father, but no one could have taken that smile off my face.”

“Can we not do this?”

Every time my mom opens her mouth, it feels as if a belt wrapped around my chest is getting tighter and tighter. Brinley looks at me warily. I really hope she keeps her mouth shut.

“It’s a simple question. Do you love him?” Dad repeats my mom’s question.

“I…” I shake my head as if they’re being ridiculous or desperately trying to convince them they’re being ridiculous.

The bridal suite door opens, and Jeanette slides in with a garment bag. “Oh, thank goodness. I just found this. It’s something Lance ordered for today and there’s a note for you.”

I look at Brinley, and she raises her hands, indicating she has nothing to do with it. I hold out my hand for the garment bag and take it over to the couch. I lay the bag on the couch, tear off the stapled letter, and open it.

I’m not sure if you have everything, but it’s going to be cold out there when you take your pictures. If you don’t already have it, this can be your something new. Good luck and best wishes.

~ Lance

I zip open the garment bag to find a beautiful white alpaca shawl.

“Oh wow,” Brinley says.

I turn, holding it. “Did you know?”

Brinley shakes her head and tears glisten in her eyes.

“So he did this weeks ago.” My fingers run over the soft shawl.

“Yeah, and it’s perfect. It’s freezing outside, and it complements your dress perfectly.”

“As if he knew what it would look like.” My breathing becomes shallow as I read the note again, looking for some hidden meaning.

My mom says my name, but it’s not to get my attention or to tell me it’s time to go. I don’t even realize I’m crying until a drop of water hits my hand holding the shawl.

“Mom, I…” I can’t do this. I can’t marry Will, regardless of what might happen with Lance. That’s what I want to say, but somehow the words won’t leave my lips.

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