Page 16 of The One Night Match

Dad always says I live my life in my own little bubble. He doesn’t mean it in a bad way…I don’t think, but it’s a part of myself I’ve learned to accept.

“I’ll miss San Francisco a lot,” I admit.

“I’m proud of you, you know that?”

I look up at him as we pause by the double doors. The wedding march plays on the other side, and there’s a soft hum of voices as my sisters make their way toward the altar.

“You always knew what you wanted, always took the world by the horns and forged your own path. I know your mother and I have struggled with you not wanting to be a part of the family business, but that doesn’t mean we’re not immensely proud of everything you’ve done despite us.”

I give him a wobbly smile, my entire body trembling with the emotions beating down on me. “Thanks, Dad.”

He doesn’t get a chance to respond before the doors swing open and every eye in the room turns to us, stealing the breath straight from my lungs.

“Don’t worry, Riles. I won’t let you fall.”

I nod but keep my eyes trained on the red carpet at my feet.

Stage fright on your wedding day can’t be that uncommon, right?

Every step closer to the altar feels like another step toward the end of my life as I know it, and yet I don’t stop. I don’t yank my arm from my father’s, hike up my dress, and sprint out of here like my ass is on fire.

I just keep walking.

Dad helps me up the two steps that my sisters are standing on before giving my hand a squeeze.

Cassidy steps forward and fluffs the back of my dress. Dad says something quietly to my almost-husband, and then he turns back to me, carefully lifting the veil out of my face.

He gives me one last soft smile and steps down to take his seat beside Mom, leaving me with no other choice but to look at my groom.

The last thing I expect is to meet familiar dark eyes that look just as surprised as I feel as he stares back at me.

EIGHT

CRUZ

What the fuck?

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the woman from the club since she ran from me, and yet here she is, standing in front of me.

In a fucking wedding dress.

Did she know who I was last night?

Was it all a ploy to try out the merchandise before she hitched herself to my wagon?

It makes sense, I guess, but she genuinely looks just as surprised as I feel.

I take her hand from John’s, her father, because that’s what’s expected from me in this moment, but I can’t stop my mind from spiraling about the fact that the woman I thought I would never see again is standing right in front of me.

The priest is saying something, but I haven’t heard a single word since the veil was lifted, and I found startling blue staring back at me.

What are the fucking chances?

Zero.

Maybe even less than zero, if I’m honest.

“Did you know?” she hisses in a whisper, her eyes darting around the church a moment before the color drains from her cheeks at the size of the crowd gathered here to watch us say our vows.