Page 3 of Runaway Bride and Prejudice

The woman touches his arm with familiarity, telling me this isn’t thestartof something. Not a first-time or one-time thing.

Maybe he’s the kind who told himself this would be the last time, that once he saidI do, this would all be in the past. Faithfulness from this hour—clearly notday—forward.

Yeah, right. Cheaters gonna cheat, and they’re gonna keep on cheating. Unless someone steps in and stops it.

Someone like me.

“So, how’s this going to work?” I ask.

“How’swhatgoing to work?” Douche snaps.

“Do I need to escort you physically to tell Amelia about this, or can I trust you to walk yourself?”

“The door was locked,” he stammers, going back to his original response. Like the main problem here is faulty hardware. Not his actions.

I snap my fingers. “Catch up. We’ve moved on, and you’re burying the lede. The headline isDouchebag Groom Cheats Less Than an Hour before the Wedding with a Bridesmaid.”

“Maid of honor,” the woman corrects, almost like a reflex. Immediately, she seems to realize what she’s said, or maybe what she’sdone. Her eyes go wide, and then she bursts into tears.

Normally, I’d hate seeing a woman cry, but in this case, I have zero pity for either of these two.

“Don’t cry, baby. We’ll figure this out.” Douche the Groom has the audacity to pull her into his arms. “Like I promised.”

“Just a hunch, but I’m not sure I’d trust any promises he makes,” I say.

“You don’t know anything,” Douche says.

“You madeherpromises”—I point to the woman sniffling in his arms—“but you’re about to make vows toAmelia?I guess the plan was to keep on cheating after the wedding with your fiancée’s best friend?”

“Her cousin,” the woman says, again like the words just kind of escaped without her meaning for them to.

I suck in a breath through my teeth. Cheating with a friend is bad. Cheating with family is worse.

“And how do you think Amelia’sdadwill feel about this?”

That sobers thembothright up.

“You’re one of the hockey players,” the woman says through a wet sniffle.

Douche appraises me, suddenly looking less confident. Hockey players are a brutal bunch. Though the Appies are less so than most. We rely on skill, not sheer force or dirty plays. I don’t take my gloves off if I can help it. But I won’t run away from a fight either. If they come my way, they come my way.

Okay, andmaybeI’ve been known to instigate sometimes. Whatever. It’s part of the game.

“This is all just a misunderstanding,” Douche says.

“Cool. Then let’s go clear it up with yourfiancée.”

“You can’t tell her,” the woman whispers. “It will kill Milly.”

Milly—another nickname. How many does Amelia have? And why do I hate both of the ones I’ve heard? Maybe they’re tainted by the people saying them.

I open the door and gesture for them to walk out.

“This would probably go down better if she hears it from youboth.” I tilt my head toward the hallway behind me. “Come on, lovebirds. No time to waste. I think I hear the string quartet warming up.”

“Where have you been?” Alec whispers as I slide back into my pew with my teammates.

I shrug, giving a little twist of my lips that hopefully hints I was somewhere more fun than marching Douche the Groom and the Maid of Dishonor down the hallway. I left them right outside the door of the bridal room, both of them looking like they were going to hurl.

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