Page 2 of The Bride's Secret

“Forgive me while I tune out the harps playing. I’m not going to do this forever. I told you. I’ll settle down. We’ll have two kids, a dog, and lead a happy life. She’ll never know any differently.”

Wyatt looked away and they both jumped out of the car and went their separate ways. Sleep did not come, not for many hours. And even then it was disturbed by dream after dream where Wyatt himself was unfaithful. At the end, right before dawn, he dreamed of his own father, skipping out on his mother, and when he awoke, there was not the typical comforting reminder that it was just a dream. Because he’d lived that nightmare before.

Chapter 2

Carisa Hamilton didn’t want to get married. Never mind that the music would start in about forty five minutes and they would open the back doors of the church, everyone would stand… Her heart rate picked up and her breathing must have joined in because Marguerite, her wedding planner, started counting. “Measure your breaths darling. In-two-three-Out-two-three.”

Carisa tried, but her chest felt tighter and tighter. “I—I don’t know if I can do this.” She clutched her stomach and buckled forward.

Marguerite’s cool fingers ran a hand gently over her hair, not messing up a single strand. This woman was good. She whispered comforting things. “You’re beautiful. He loves you. Just look into his face. Forget everything else.”

But that was just it. He was the problem. The groom. She loved everything else about getting married. The dress, the party, her bridesmaids. They were stunning. She’d let them choose a dress following a specific color scheme and they’d nailed it. Pictures had never looked so good.The pictures.A part of her wanted to get married just for the pictures. The food, the cake. She’d picked the best flavors. The party. The playlist. All her favorite songs. She imagined dancing with her father, with her best friends, but then his face jarred to the front, and she remembered she’d have to dance with him too… She clutched at Marguerite’s arms, gripping with a panic that rose up inside. “I can’t dance with him.”

“Who? Your father?” She clucked. “Honey, if there’s something that makes you uncomfortable we can change the whole plan. That’s what I’m here for.”

Carisa shook her head, curls bouncing around against her scalp high above her veil. “No, It’s Heath.”

Marguerite stopped. And for a moment, Carisa saw what really went through her mind. And Carisa feared for her own life, a little bit. No one messed up the wedding planner’s plan. Not even the bride apparently. Not even if she didn’t love the groom. Anymore. Did she ever? “Ugh. I can’t. The thought of him makes me ill. She squeezed harder, the soft skin of the wedding planners’ shoulders squishing between her fingers. “What do I do?”

Marguerite gently peeled away Carisa’s hands and plugged in her diffuser; immediately the calming scents of lavender and chamomile filled the air. She clicked a few buttons on her phone, and instrumentals sounded above them, as though she were in a spa. Marguerite held the back of a chair and motioned that Carisa sit. “We have plenty of time still. You are ready. You are the most beautiful bride I have seen. Have a sit. Relax. We will make this better.” She handed her a warm cup of tea that had appeared from the countertop almost as if by magic. And then stepped out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.

But Carisa jumped up. Alone at last. Time to make a break for it. Was she crazy? Insane? Her mother would kill her. Forget her mother. Marguerite would hunt her down. But Carisa couldn’t think about that. All that she could think about was the coldness. Heath’s eyes, for the first time, cold. He’d turned on his Texan charm as soon as he noticed she was watching, but that flash, that instant of cold proved all that she’d suspected. He didn’t really care. And, she breathed out, thank the stars above, because Carisa didn’t care about him either.

She grabbed her bags, threw all her makeup inside, her hair dryer, her straightener. She left the curling iron, too hot. She pulled her overnight luggage behind her, and tiptoed to the door. Was she going to do this? Really?

As she edged it open, it pushed further toward her, rapidly, almost knocking her backward. “Oh!”

“I’m sorry.” Warm brown eyes filed with concern. Big, strong hands reached for her. He cleared his throat. “Miss Hamilton, Ma’am, I’m here.” He adjusted his stance. “I’m here. That is, Heath wanted me to come check on you.”

Her mouth dropped. “What?” Then she pressed her lips together. “He couldn’t be bothered to come himself?”

This new man, Heath’s best man, Wyatt was it? She would have been amused at his discomfort if she wasn’t completely almost at break down point. He blushed in such a charming way she decided not to punish the messenger. “Oh, come in. hush.” She pulled on him, his huge frame and thick arm not budging.

“I can’t come in there with you. It wouldn’t be right.”

She looked up and down the hallway. “Okay, well then come with me.” She handed him her overnight bag. “This way, and be quiet.”

“I’m right behind you. Everyone’s almost ready to begin. The planner. She said you might need to talk to Heath, so I’m here to ask, do you need to talk to him? It isn’t lucky to see the bride before the wedding so they say, but if you need a moment with him, I can go back and tell him.”

She waved at him over her head, hurrying down the long side catering hallway, pushing past people dressed in white and black uniforms. They didn’t glace a second time. Either used to crazy, erratic bride behavior or else trained not to interfere. “Hush now. We’re almost there.”

At last in the parking lot, she ran for her car. Beeped it open and indicated he throw her bags in the back. “Thank you, Uh, what’s your name?”

“Wyatt, ma’am. I knew Heath when we were kids.”

She nodded. Noticing for the first time, his strong jawline. Oh, she had a thing for jawlines. See, definitely not in love with Heath if she thought his groomsman was hot. “Well, thank you for your help Wyatt. If you wouldn’t mind telling Heath, later, much later, that you saw me leave?” She waited and then winced. He couldn’t do that. Wouldn’t be keeping secrets, delaying information, if he were any kind of friend.

He held up his hands. “Wait. Are you ditching him?” His concerned face was charming, would have been amusing if, again, the situation merited humor.

“It’s not going to work. He’ll thank me later.”

A stubborn look crossed Wyatt’s face, and he pulled out his phone.

Panic rose inside Carisa. “No!” Her shout echoed across the parking lot. “Please. I-I can’t.” Tears rose in her eyes and she grabbed her sides. “This is too much. I can’t explain it but it’s all wrong. He-he doesn’t even love me.”

Wyatt paused for a moment and then checked the parking lot before he hopped in her passenger seat. She groaned but sat in the driver’s seat, turned on the car, and pealed out as fast as she could. “I don’t know how you’re gonna get back to the wedding but I’m out of here. I can’t be bringing you back.”

“I’ll be fine. Now, why don’t you talk to me while you drive.”

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