The Runaway Bride
Norah
Sunday, July 25 th
The sounds of chatter coming from inside the cathedral fill my ears, and my chest grows tighter with anxiety. I’m in my own nightmarish version of a horror movie, and any second, the villain is going to jump out and catch me.
Only, the villain isn’t some psychopath with a chainsaw—it’s the man I’m supposed to marry today. The man I’m currently running from.
My bridal purse and the envelope are clutched in one hand, and the train of my dress in the other as I move down one of the massive, marble hallways at the back of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, close to where the rooms that brides and grooms and wedding parties use to get ready. My red-soled, bridal Louboutins on my feet click-clack against the floor, causing a terrifying echo to bounce around inside my ears.
I need to get out of here before anyone sees me.
Voices sound in the distance, and I freeze, right in the middle of the hallway, and my head bounces around like a ping-pong ball, searching for something, anything to hide behind.
The voices are getting closer, and I find refuge in my second bathroom of the day. It only consists of one stall, and I lock the door the instant I click it shut.
My left hand clutches the porcelain sink, and I stare at my reflection in the mirror, my bridal purse and the envelope that just dropped a bomb on my entire existence still white-knuckled in my right hand.
“Get it together,” I whisper to myself. “You have to get it—”
Three soft knocks rattle the wood of the door, and my body practically jumps out of my disgustingly expensive cream silk-and-lace dress. I hold my breath.
“Norah? You in there?”
Instantly, I breathe again. It’s Lil, aka Lillian , my best friend, my maid of honor and the only person I actually like out of my wedding party. The only person I actually know out of my wedding party. The other nine bridesmaids are either Thomas’s family or Thomas’s friends’ wives or women I’ve met through Thomas’s social circle.
Because everything in your life has revolved around Thomas, my mind harshly whispers. Or what your mother wants, which is you being with Thomas.
Lillian has been by my side since I was a kid. She was the first friend I made when my mother moved us to New York, shortly after my father passed away, and the only girl at the Manhattan private school my mother enrolled me in that didn’t care whether or not my family had money—which, we didn’t.
Until my mother married my stepdad, Carlton, we lived in a studio apartment in Brooklyn and ate noodles five out of seven nights a week.
My mother’s new relationship changed everything, though, and we went from barely getting by to being surrounded by gilded molding inside ten-thousand square foot penthouses with marble floors and living rooms that looked more like museums than a cozy space where a family lived.
“ Norah ?” Lillian’s voice drops to a whisper, the tone harsh with panic. “You in there?”
“Yeah,” I whisper.
“Are you okay? What are you doing?”
“Just…” I sigh and pause, because how do I tell my best friend that I’m currently in the middle of planning my escape route from my wedding?
“Just what?”
“Just...I don’t know...” Having a mental breakdown? I step up to the door and let my forehead hit the wood with a thud . “Are you alone?”
“What?”
“Are you by yourself ?” I clarify severely. I’m spiraling.
“Yeah...?”
I disengage the lock and slowly open the door far enough that I can peer out to see if she’s telling the truth. Once I confirm, I reach out and grab her by the elbow and drag her into the bathroom with me then lock the door again.
“What the—?”
“I can’t do it.” The words fall from my lips before I even have a chance to think them through. But once they’re out there, hovering between me and Lil, I don’t want to take them back. I want them here because they’re the only thing that’s felt real in a far too long time.
“What are you talking about?” Lillian’s green eyes widen into saucers. “You can’t do what?”
“This.” I can’t marry a man that could be capable of the horrible, awful things that are tucked inside that fucking envelope.
“This? As in you’re not happy with your makeup?”
I shake my head.
“Your hair?”
I shake my head again.
“Your dress?”
“ This ,” I repeat and vaguely wave a frustrated hand around. “All. Of. This.”
“Wait...” Lillian takes a hard swallow. “This, as in, the... wedding ?”
“Yes,” I whisper, and she blinks so many times I swear I could hook her up to a generator and her eyelids could power the whole city.
“ Norah ,” she whispers back, her mind fully coming to terms with what I’m saying.
“There are, like, two hundred people out there, ready to watch you walk down the aisle in twenty minutes.”
“Three.”
“What?”
“ Three hundred people , Lil.”
“Okay, let’s take a breath,” she says and places two gentle hands on my shoulders.
She’s trying to regroup me, but there’s no regrouping. I’m off the rails. I have a chest full of hives, for fudge sake. The only thing that will help me regroup is an escape car and a Xanax.
“I can see you’re freaking out a little, but let’s try to figure out what’s really happening before we do something rash.”
“Rash?” I retort and point to the angry welts on my chest. “Pretty sure we’ve already achieved that.” Every part of my body wants to tell Lil the truth about the envelope. The truth about Thomas and my mother. But I just can’t. Not right now.
Right now, I need to leave.
“Oh my,” Lillian mutters as she takes in the splotches that are now more distinct than my cleavage—and considering there’s a damn push-up bra sewn into my wedding gown, that’s saying a lot. “Maybe you just need a Benadryl?”
“Because why? I’m allergic to the groom?”
Lil cringes.
“Lil, I can’t marry him. I can’t.”
“Oh boy.”
It’s all she can say.
She stares at me for a long moment, her green eyes searching deep into mine as if they have the power to open up my head and sift through all of the things inside my brain.
“Lil, I can’t do it,” I tell her again, and she snaps out of her useless exploration.
“You’re serious.”
“As serious as these hives.”
“What...do you want to do?”
Tears prick my eyes. “I want to leave.”
Lillian stays quiet for the longest moment, and I have no idea what she’s thinking. A part of me wants her to ask me about the envelope that’s still in my hand, but another part of me, the most demanding part, just needs her to help me get the hell out of here.
Eventually, she releases my shoulders and starts pacing the marble floor of the bathroom.
“You do realize your mother would lose it if you ghosted on your wedding day.”
I nod. One tear falls from my lid and down my cheek. My mother will hate me. Just like she hates my sister, Josie.
“Thomas and his family will also be none too thrilled.”
I nod again. Two more tears.
“The tabloids will have a field day with this. You’ll probably be branded as some cruel witch who ruined Thomas King’s life.”
We both know the tabloids love Thomas King. I mean, he is the heir of the powerful King Family. They own more businesses than the investors on Shark Tank. Not to mention, he’s built the perfect persona of “handsome and charming,” and no one is none the wiser. If this wedding doesn’t happen, they’ll make sure they paint him as some kind of hero and me as the evil, bridal villain.
I know this. And yet, I don’t care. I don’t fucking care at all.
I cannot marry that man.
“I need to leave, Lil,” I say, my voice a harsh whisper. “Like, now. I need to leave now.”
“Alright,” she mutters and starts to pace the small space in the bathroom again, gearing herself up. “Alright, alright, shiiit. Alright.”
All I can do is stand there and watch my best friend try to carry around the massive suitcase of baggage I just put on her shoulders.
“Norah,” she says, her voice quiet but serious and breaking the tense silence. “I will always have your back no matter what. So, if you really mean this, if you’re really sure, then we need to find a way to get you out of here.”
I lunge toward her and hug her so tight that a little oomph of air jumps from her lungs on a gasp.
“I don’t want to say I told you so right now, but I think I should remind you that when you started dating Thomas back in the day, I told you he didn’t deserve you.”
There it is. The very reason why Lillian is going along with this. The signs were there from the start, and Lil’s agreement is all the confirmation I need to know I’m making the right move.
Thomas King might be charismatic and handsome and check off all the superficial boxes, but he is very much a man that is all about himself. People might love Thomas, but no one loves him as much as he does. And beneath his perfect persona is the kind of evil I didn’t even know was possible.
You can’t make a square peg fit into a round hole, and by God, with all the things Thomas has evidently done, my edges are curved.
When he asked me to marry him a year ago, in a display of ostentatious wealth in the form of a big party with expensive flowers and caviar appetizers and a hundred people watching as he got down on one knee, I felt like I couldn’t say anything but yes. But I should’ve said no.
“Nor, I need you to listen to me closely,” Lillian says and places both of her hands on my shoulders. “I’m going to make some calls and get a getaway car set up. We’re going to sneak you out the side entrance and get you back to my apartment. Though, I’m not sure how long you’ll be able to stay there. I can imagine it’s the first place everyone will look.”
“And then what?”
“And then, I’ll face the Eleanor Ellis music.”
My eyes go wide. “Lil, you can’t—”
“I got this, okay?” she says and takes the phone out of the small blush-pink silk purse that matches her bridesmaid dress. “I’ll handle it right now and then...yeah...you’re going to have to deal with quite the aftermath.”
The aftermath. God help me.
She searches my eyes. “Are you sure you’re prepared for that?”
“Yes,” I tell her. No hesitation. No doubt.
I steal a glance at the envelope that’s still clutched in my hand.
The truth will set you free.
…
Freshly showered and wearing a pair of Lillian’s sweatpants and her old NYU shirt, I plop down onto her vintage gold sofa in the living room. Lil is busy in the kitchen, and I decide to look at my phone and see what’s waiting for me on the other side.
I have missed phone calls and text messages from my mother and Thomas and Thomas’s mother, and I shut my eyes and tap the screen, letting fate decide whose messages I read first.
Mom: Where in the hell are you? Answer your phone. I just talked to Lillian, and she said you left. Obviously, that can’t be the case because this is YOUR WEDDING DAY.
Eleanor Ellis sent that first message around the same time I was playing the part of the runaway bride and getting in a getaway car and heading down Fifth Avenue.
Mom: Norah. I have no idea what is going on with you, but you need to call me RIGHT NOW.
The second message came in about two minutes later. And it was followed up by about twenty other messages and missed phone calls that all occurred in the span of a few minutes.
But her last two messages are where things really get bad.
Mom: NORAH. This behavior is unacceptable.
This behavior. As if I’m a child. As if she’s throwing a temper tantrum because she didn’t get what she wanted.
And her last and final text of the night? Well, it’s a real doozy.
Mom: I will never forgive you for this.
You’d think she was the groom—that I left her high-and-dry at the altar. Not a mom, who wants the best for her daughter, no matter the messiness. I can’t deny that her words cut deep.
They embody every cruel and manipulative part of her—all the parts I’ve spent years burying my head in the sand to deny.
But there’s no denying it anymore— Eleanor Ellis doesn’t give a shit about me, and she never did.
Tears are already in my eyes when I stupidly decide to switch over to Thomas’s texts.
Thomas: Baby, where are you?
Thomas: The wedding is supposed to start in ten minutes. Where are you?
The first two messages are expected, but the next several texts give me a sense of déjà vu. I feel like it’s my mother all over again.
Thomas: Lillian said you left. What the fuck, Norah? What is going on? There are three hundred people here ready to watch us get married and you left???
Thomas: I can’t believe this is fucking happening right now. Answer your phone. Call me back.
Thomas: You seriously left me on our wedding day? Do you even realize what you’ve done? There are journalists here, Norah. Do you have any idea what they’re going to say about you?
Thomas: I’ve given you everything. EVERYTHING. And this is how you repay me?
Thomas: Do you have any idea how this looks for me? For my family?
Thomas: NORAH CALL ME FUCKING BACK.
Thomas: You are making the biggest mistake of your life.
Thomas: Your mother is devasted, Norah. I can’t believe how selfish you are right now. It’s like you don’t even care what you’re putting everyone else through.
Somehow, I’m the selfish one in all of this because I didn’t go along with what everyone else wanted me for me, and the person whose feelings I should be worried about the most are my mother’s. I’m not surprised, but it still hurts.
“You okay?” my best friend asks and sits down beside me, wrapping her arm around my shoulders.
“Well, it wasn’t easy reading these, but I’ll be okay,” I tell her and hand off my phone so she can take a look at the text assault from my mother and Thomas.
Her brow furrows as she reads. First, Thomas. Then, my mother, and by the end her eyes are narrowed and her mouth is set in a firm line.
“You do realize this is all bullshit, right?” When I don’t answer, she reaches forward with her index finger to tilt my chin up, bringing my eyes toward her. “It’s bullshit, Nor. All of it.”
I nod, but it’s more for her than for myself. Whether it’s bullshit or not, it doesn’t stop their words from slithering under my skin.
Lillian still doesn’t know all of the gory details about the catalyst for me walking out on my wedding day, but she’s still on my side. I can’t imagine what she’d be thinking if I told her the rest.
“And it’s incredibly manipulative,” she adds. “Not once did either one of them ask you if you were okay. Not once did they reach out a hand. They were only focused on themselves.”
“I don’t think I have any place to live,” I admit. “I can’t stay at my apartment because it’s Thomas’s apartment. I barely have any money in my checking account. I have no job. No college degree because Thomas wanted me to be more available for all of his stupid business social events. And it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that my mother and stepdad have cut me off completely.”
I’ve been reliant on Thomas for everything. Which is the dumbest thing any woman can do for herself.
“It’s going to be okay, Nor,” Lillian tries to reassure me. “You can stay here until you get back on your feet.”
“You and I both know I can’t stay here. This will be the first place they look for me.”
“Okay, but what are you going to do? Live on the fucking street?” Lil questions. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not going to live on the street. At least, not in New York. I’m going to go to Red Bridge.”
It’s where my father grew up. It’s where I lived for the first six years of my life. And it’s where my sister, Josie, still lives. Though, it’s been five years since I’ve seen or spoken to her, and they didn’t come without a reason.
I was an awful, na?ve leech at my mother’s side at our Grandma Rose’s funeral, and I wouldn’t blame Josie if she still isn’t ready to forgive me.
But it’s the only option that feels right.
I’m starting over now, and as such, I’ve got to go back to the beginning.
Back to where it all began.
Red Bridge, Vermont, here I come.
Josie & Clay’s story is coming July 1, 2025! But turn the page to get an exclusive first look at When I Should’ve Stayed .