Page 66 of Fair Trade (New York Monarchs #2)

I can’t breathe in this damn dress.

I tried telling Vivian in so many ways that I thought it was too tight.

But my future mother-in-law never listens.

And I never stand my ground.

Maybe I just need some air. I’m sure I’d be able to breathe better if I left this stuffy room that reeks of hairspray and burned split ends. Not sure if my hair will ever return to its natural curl after today’s ordeal.

I push open the door that leads to the back of the church parking lot and leave it propped open so I don’t get locked out.

I don’t know why I was expecting a cool, calming spring breeze when I’m in the middle of downtown, where all I can feel is the heat from the building’s air conditioning unit and all I can hear are the sirens of a nearby ambulance.

If I don’t get a full breath in soon, they might have to circle back and pick me up.

I start pacing but stop when I realize my pointy shoes are giving me blisters. Because of course they are. I look back into the room where my comfy Converses are calling my name.

But I don’t think it would be deemed appropriate for me to get married in my scuffed-up Chucks.

A startled laugh escapes me at the thought, and before I know it, I’m bent over with my hands on my knees, laughing uncontrollably.

How the flying fuck did I get here?

The laughter subsides as silent tears run down my face. I need to reel it in before it ruins my makeup, but I can’t find the strength in me to care.

Gosh, I really need to catch my breath. I’m starting to feel lightheaded, and I don’t need a fainting spell on top of the mess I’ve made.

A wailing noise brings my attention back to the parking lot. Only then do I realize it’s coming from me.

I cover my mouth with my hands. The last thing I need is the paparazzi to get a shot of me having a full-blown meltdown ten minutes before I walk down the aisle.

My father and Damien would never let me hear the end of it.

I close my eyes and knock my head back against the brick wall a few times.

I can’t do this. I never should have let this go on this long.

I’ve had a healthy dose of doubts leading up to today, but last night, something broke inside me. Specifically when Damien and my father cornered me at our rehearsal dinner and told me that I would be quitting my job with the New York Monarchs effective immediately.

Now that I was to become Mrs. Fischer, the wife of a New York senator with clear goals of becoming the next president of the United States.

They didn’t ask. They informed me.

If they’d asked for anything else, I would have done it. I always have.

But the Monarchs are my family. The one place I feel truly at home. With people who love me unconditionally.

And I can’t leave them. I won’t. But I don’t know what to do. The clock hangs over my head, and I’m running out of time.

I hear fast footsteps headed my way, and my eyes fly open. With my luck, I might get mugged before meeting my groom.

For a second I consider it might be a great excuse to postpone the wedding.

My thoughts snap back to the present as I realize that it’s Luke. He’s here, and he’s closing the distance between us.

“Y-you came. You actually made it.” I hiccup.

“What’s wrong? Did he do something to you?” His eyes scan my body, looking for the source of my distress.

“I’m okay. Just taking a little walk around the block. Apparently it’s my wedding day. Can you believe that?” My smile must look deranged.

“Daisy, girl. Talk to me. What do you need?” His warm, calloused hands squeeze my bare upper arms, and I sigh deeply.

I can breathe again.

“If only it were that easy, Luke.”

“Try me. I’m going to ask you one more time, Daisy. What. Do. You. Need?” he asks through gritted teeth.

I force my breathing to match his as the silence surrounds us.

No longer can I make out the sounds of honking yellow cabs or pedestrians rushing their way back to work after lunch.

It’s just me and Luke. And the answer to his question.

“I don’t want to marry him,” I say on an exhale.

“You don’t want to marry him?” he parrots back to me.

I manage to shake my head.

He steps back, releasing his hold on me. His warmth is gone, and the tightness in my chest returns.

He runs his hands over his unruly beard and slowly starts to nod. “All right.”

“What do you mean, all right? Everything is far from all right. I have five minutes to get my ass out there.” I start to panic again.

He steps closer. “I’m going to make this real simple for you, Daisy.” He cradles my face in his hands, his glacial blue eyes searing deep into my soul. “You’re not getting married today.”

“I’m not?” He shakes his head. “But—but what do I do now? There are over three hundred people waiting in the church. And I don’t know if Nick can alert the media and tell them that I’ve fallen ill or have my father postpone—”

“Do you have any of your belongings in that room?” He nods at the propped door as he gently wipes away my tears.

“Uh… um, yeah. My phone and my weekend bag.” I start stepping side to side, my feet now killing me.

Luke looks down at the pointy witch heels poking out from under my dress.

“Okay, here’s the plan. You’re going to gather your things, ditch those heels, and slip into the Chucks I’m sure you sneaked in here.

I’ll text your brother to prepare for what’s about to go down.

Then we’re going to walk out, nice and calm, and you’re going to sit your ass in my truck.

Because you, Daisy, are not getting married today. ”

He smiles widely, and it’s a sucker punch to the gut. I’ve never seen him smile like this, and now I’m glad I haven’t, because it’s downright devastating.

I shake the absurd thought from my head and try to grasp at what Luke is so clearly trying to communicate with me, but my oxygen-deprived brain is having trouble catching up.

“Okay, so toss the shoes and grab my phone and bag.”

I nod, the pieces slowly coming into focus.

“I’m not getting married today.” I smile my first real smile in what feels like forever.

“You’re not getting married today.” His smile now matches mine.

I go to move but stop to turn back to Luke. “Wait, and what are you going to do?”

He grins as he nods at the black truck in the mostly empty parking lot.

“Daisy girl, isn’t it obvious? I’ll be the one driving the getaway car.”

THE END