Page 17 of The Trouble with Runaway Brides

“Where’s that cliché button now?” I stare at him through the glass, where he sits in front of the soundboard.

“I’m just the side entertainment.” He sticks his tongue out at me.

“We promise to stop fighting like siblings. Let’s introduce our guest. Jenny Twerdles is from a small town in Iowa, and she set out to marry her high school sweetheart in the Caribbean until she met a man at the resort who stirred up something new inside her and she got cold feet. Don’t judge, people, let’s hear her story first.”

Jenny is already sitting at the table with us, and I pat her clammy hand to tell her she’s fine, don’t be nervous.

“So, Jenny, most of the messages we received about wedding disasters were about hurricanes, families fighting, things outside of the couples’ control.”

“I know, and it’s probably not really a destination wedding as much as a runaway bride story, but I turned it in anyway…”

“And won a free trip to New York for you and your current husband. Definitely a wise choice to turn that in,” Blake chimes in.

“Thank you again. It’s been great,” she says.

“Our pleasure. Now, why don’t you tell our listeners exactly what happened?” I give her a big smile, hoping to make her more comfortable.

She straightens her back. Her discomfort could be seen from the top of the Empire State Building. She’s afraid she’s going to be judged. “Well… my high school sweetheart and I decided to have a destination wedding with only a small number of guests joining us because we wanted that intimate feel, you know?”

“I do,” I say. Blake eyes me through the glass and I refuse to meet his gaze.

“The night after we rehearsed our ceremony, he went out with his friends, and I went out with mine. We weren’t to see each other until the next morning.”

“Typical superstition stuff,” I add.

She giggles. “Yeah, well, I ended up at this club at the all-inclusive resort we were staying at, and my girlfriends were all dancing and having a good time. I was sitting in the VIP section watching them all and… I don’t know. I wondered what the hell I was doing. I had never kissed anyone else, much less slept with anyone else. Pete had been my one and only since I became interested in boys. Now I was going to spend all the rest of my years on earth, my one and only life with him? My mind felt like it was caught in a tornado that wouldn’t leave. Soon I was feeling suffocated and overwhelmed. I was struggling to breathe, my throat tightening, and a man stopped at the table. I’m not sure if he noticed my panic attack or not, but he slid into the booth, took my hands, and kept whispering to me to breathe over and over again.”

She glances toward the door where her current husband is listening as we record, but they can’t see each other. I’ll call him in later to get his side of the story.

“And did something happen?” Blake butts in, and I give him a death stare.

“No, it was just that feeling when someone really attractive gives you attention. And I couldn’t deny that I liked it. But nothing happened that night. He saw me to my room and just said good night like a gentleman.”

“No scandalous affair?” Blake puts his hand over his mouth as if he’s yawning.

I wave him off. “Forget him. So, you got dressed the next morning with your bridesmaids…”

Jenny nods, seeming more comfortable now. She’s really cute, with her hair nicely styled and wearing a dress with leggings and flats. “Hair, makeup, the works.”

“Did you do an updo or keep it down?” Blake asks.

“Those details don’t matter,” I scold him.

“I’m trying to visualize, Kenz, okay?”

I chuckle and shake my head. “Okay, continue, Jenny. Sorry.”

Jenny looks at Blake. “I did an updo because it was scorching hot out there. Like, ninety-five degrees. We booked late, so we couldn’t have a sunset. We had to get married right in the middle of the day.”

“Ouch.”

I roll my eyes at Blake.

“I told myself it was just last-minute jitters and carried on with everything the way I was supposed to. When it was time for the ceremony, the music started, my bridesmaids walked, then my dad took my arm and my throat felt like it was closing up again. As I stood at the end of the aisle and stared at my fiancé, I thought of all our breakups and then getting back together over the years. The fights and how he was going to work for his family’s company and how I was going to be a teacher and maybe if I was lucky, we’d get to go on vacation every year if we could afford it. I saw the two of us sitting on a couch, watching television in silence every night. Then we’d have kids, and they’d take precedence in our life…” She stops and inhales deeply and I worry that maybe she’s having the same reaction she had that day. “My thoughts sort of spiraled out of control.”

“Did you have family drama growing up? Because I tell you, my dad—”

“Wrong show, Blake. This is a fun show, not therapy,” I say.

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