CHAPTER ONE
HARLOW
Sweat dripped down my neck as the humid air turned my beach waves into frizz. My heels began to blister from running on the cracked sidewalks in my four-inch heels. People honked and waved, and some even offered me a ride.
I ended up in front of a local diner that looked like its best years were behind it, but my feet needed a break. I pushed through the doors and asked the hostess if I could use the bathroom. She blinked at me, and for a split second, I thought she might call the cops. I almost burst into tears when she pointed toward the restroom.
Today was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. Instead, I was hiding out in the bathroom of a rundown diner next to a 7-Eleven with someone in the stalls humming the lyrics to Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Free Bird.”
The room smelled like smoke and grease. I was pretty sure something skittered across the floor behind the toilet. This was as far away from the cathedral and country club wedding reception as it got.
Baz Zimmerman wasn’t the worst human being on earth. In fact, on paper, we were perfect for each other. But he was too much like my father—cold, polished, and had zero personality.
So, when the music started, and I saw his bored face at the end of the altar, looking like he was checking off a to-do list in his head, something inside me snapped, so I ran in the opposite direction, and just kept running.
I gripped the sink tighter and stared at my reflection in the mirror. When did my life stop becoming mine? How did I let things get so out of hand?
The toilet flushed, and the bathroom stall creaked open. Out stepped an older woman who was probably in her seventies, wearing a pair of glittery jeans and a black T-shirt with a taco on the front that said, “Nacho Average Old Lady.” She looked like she could either knit you a blanket or hit you over the head with a baseball bat, depending on her mood. Her eyes nearly popped out of their socket when she spotted me. “Honey, I think you took a wrong turn off the highway.”
I looked down at the ridiculously big dress and laughed, even though there was nothing remotely funny about my situation. “I wish it were that simple.”
She grabbed a Marlboro Light from her purse and lit it with a match. “Are you a runaway bride or something?”
I tried to smooth out some of the wrinkles of my twenty-five-thousand-dollar Vera Wang dress that my father insisted I wear. “I guess you could say that.”
She walked over and cracked open a small window above the top of my head to vent the smoke from her cigarette. I didn’t know why she wouldn’t just go outside, but something told me she didn’t care if she got caught smoking in the bathroom or not.
“What did he do? Cheat? Push you around? Because you look worse than I did after my third divorce.”
I shook my head, trying to decide the best way to respond. “He didn’t do anything, really. I just panicked and ran when I realized I was making a mistake.”
She tucked the cigarette in the corner of her mouth and played with the wild nest of yellow-blond hair on top of her head. I was ninety-nine percent sure it was a wig. “If you didn’t love the poor sap, then why did you say yes?”
“Because my dad wanted me to marry him. The marriage was nothing more than a business arrangement.”
Just two families being pushed together for the sake of power and convenience. The wedding bands were simply a formality. Love was never part of the equation. Neither was my happiness.
She squinted at me like I’d grown a second head. “Are you serious?”
I knew it was a bad idea to try to explain this to her. “It’s complicated.”
She set her giant purse on the vanity, held out a crumpled napkin, and shoved it into my hands. “You clearly need someone to talk to, but before you do, wipe those eyes. You look like a raccoon that got caught in a rainstorm.” I scoffed as she continued.“Don’t look at me like that. I went to beauty school when I was sixteen. Had to drop out when I found out I was pregnant with Junior.”
I scrunched my nose up in disbelief at this woman. “I’m sorry, but you’re telling me this, why?”
“Because in this day and age, there is no reason to look like that when they have waterproof mascara.” Her lips pressed into a thin line as she eyed me up and down. “Judging by the shoes and dress, it appears you can afford the good stuff.”
I blinked. “Are you always this blunt?”
“I’m too old to bite my tongue. I lost my filter before you were even born.”
I let out a sad laugh. “I don’t know if I should laugh or cry.”
She leaned against the sink. “I’ve been told I’m a good therapist. So, tell me why you let your dad talk you into an arranged marriage like it’s still the eighteenth century.”
“My dad is a very powerful man and after my mom died, I spent my entire life trying to please him and do what was expected, but I have decided that stops today.”
She puffed on her cigarette, and I watched as a tiny trail of smoke drifted out the window. “So, the old man was controlling. Good for you for running.”