Page 69 of The Trouble with Runaway Brides

He turns away from me. “It was a mistake, okay? I see that now, I do. But I can’t turn back time. And what happened between us has nothing to do with you marrying a complete jackass who’s not going to make you happy. No one around you is telling you the truth.”

“He’s not a jackass! All you know of him—”

“I know him plenty well. I went to school with him. He’s a douchebag, Kenzie. Always has been. He thinks he’s God’s gift to New York City. Flaunts his money and does nothing good with the resources he has. He wouldn’t give anyone the shirt off his back.”

“That doesn’t make him a horrible person.”

His fist pounds on the counter. “Fuck, Kenzie, open your fucking eyes. He’s deserted you here to plan a wedding all by yourself. Actually, as far as I can tell, he had no issue with you planning it with me.” He jabs his finger into his chest. “I assume you told him about us? About our relationship and what we used to mean to each other? Yet he still lets me take you around Lake Starlight like we’re the fucking bride and groom. If you were mine, it would be over my dead body that would ever happen.”

I can’t hold back my tears any longer. This conversation is way overdue, but why are we finally having it now, weeks before my wedding, stirring up all these old emotions, stirring up ideas…

“Why do you care? You hate me, remember? You didn’t want to do any of this in the first place. I’m the evil one, aren’t I?”

“You can’t be serious. Why do I care?” He rounds the counter and storms toward me, stopping just shy of me. “Do you really want to know why I fucking care?”

“Yes!” I throw my hands up at my sides again.

“Because I still fucking love you. Because if you’re not going to be with me, then it at least has to be someone better than me. And Will fucking Asbury is far from better than me. I regret my decision to break up with you every damn day. I can’t keep a woman in my bed for more than a night because they aren’t you. Because you’re the only woman for me and I lost you a long time ago.”

“Lance.” Tears spill down my face onto the hardwood.

His hands shake as they cup my face and tilt my head up so our eyes meet. “I know this is shit timing. I know I have no right to ask you this, but please don’t marry him. Give me, give us a chance.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. It’s what I wanted to hear for so long, but the timing is all wrong. He’s too late. “I—”

“I’m not sure what else I can say. I was young, stupid, and naive. I’ve tried to stay back. I’ve tried to keep my mouth shut. But I don’t think you’re happy and that’s when I can’t keep quiet because you deserve all the happiness in the world.”

My head shakes, almost in a panic. “I can’t. We can’t. I’m two weeks away from my wedding, Lance. I can’t just run out on Will. The money, the time, the guests… his parents, my parents… all the time and effort that’s gone into it… the reporter. Could you imagine the press if I ran out on the wedding?”

He drops his hands and steps back, expression blank.

His front door opens. “Are you guys as hungover as us? We brought donuts.” Brinley walks in with Easton and Van, but she stops as soon as she takes in the scene.

“Just go then,” Lance whispers, not meeting my eyes.

And that’s exactly what I do.

Twenty-Two

Lance

I kicked Easton and Brinley out right after Kenzie left, telling them to make sure she got home okay. After Kenzie’s reaction to me laying my heart on the line, I didn’t want to talk to or see anyone. I was a fucking idiot for saying anything. For thinking it might make a difference. But later that afternoon, when I’m in the middle of packing my bags, my front door opens downstairs.

“Lance!” Easton shouts.

“I’m up here,” I call, then sigh. I guess it was too much to hope he’d do as I asked and stay away.

Seconds later, he stands in my doorway. “What are you doing?”

“I have to go back to New York.”

He leans against the doorframe. “Really. Right now?”

“I have business there. I’ve been here too long. My grandfather needs me.”

Easton pushes off the doorframe and sits on the edge of the bed, watching me go from my closet to the suitcase. “Can we talk now?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. She wants to marry him, and I probably should’ve just let that happen without saying anything.”

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