Page 26 of The Revenge Bride

“My girlfriend’s baby…it’s not mine. I want Lucy back.” He clasps his hands together. “You’ll take me back, won’t you? You know I’m rich. I can give you things he can’t.”

Rhett says something in Clyde’s ear.

Clyde’s face contorts into rage and he takes a swing at Rhett.

Rhett punches him and Clyde hits the floor, clutching his nose, swearing he’s going to have everyone arrested and sue us.

Claudia lifts her chin. “I’m old and feeble and you pushed me, moron. Who do you think people in town are going to side with? In fact, I think I’ll go spread the word right now.”

Rhett hauls him to his feet and shoves him to the door. “Get out of here or I’m going to pound you into the shit stain that you are.”

Then he comes back to me and inspects my wrist. “Did he mark you? Because if he did, I’m going after him.”

“I’m fine.” Our gazes tangle together. The things I don’t say run through my brain.I’m in love with you. Please don’t break my heart. Do you love me? Will you?

He runs his hand down my arm, inspecting every inch of it until he’s satisfied that I’m okay.

“Your grandfather is on his way here to take you down the aisle. I’ll wait at the altar if you’re sure that you’re still okay with this?”

“I am. I’m not going to run away. We have a deal, right?” I search his face for any sign that this is more than a deal to him.

“Okay.”

One word. Nothing more. Then just like that, he leaves as my grandfather enters.

I paste a bright smile on my face and walk with him outside. Toward the fake wedding with the real aching heart.

Rhett

There’s an angel in my arms. I’m dancing with her across the floor under a clear night sky filled with stars.

Lucy takes my breath away with her beauty.

I hadn’t realized the rollercoaster of fear I was on until she walked down the aisle toward me and became my wife. I can finally breathe now. Now that she’s mine.

Lucy’s not saying much. She hasn’t since the day she left my house. Her text messages have been short and to the point.

When I tried to push for us to have a long conversation, she said between her job and wedding preparations, she was too busy.

“Why do I feel like you’ve been avoiding me?” I ask.

“Because you’re smart enough to pick up on that?”

“So you have.” I waltz her to the end of the floor to give us more privacy. “Because I upset you that day in the shower?”

“I upset myself,” she says. “I went into something with my eyes wide open only to discover that?—”

When she abruptly stops speaking, I nudge her lower back with my fingertips. My heart is galloping. Could that discovery be feelings for me?

“Discover what?” I prompt.

“I asked if I was right for you and discovered that you don’t think so.”

“I never said that.” I stop dancing, take her hand, and pull her around behind the barn. “It wasn’t about you. It’s about me. I couldn’t answer you then because I was struggling with the fear that you couldn’t love me.”

Her eyes widen and she slowly blinks.

“Then I was afraid if I told you how I felt, it would scare you off. So I said nothing in the hopes that you’d still go through with the wedding and I could buy myself some time to convince you to love me back.”

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