CHAPTER 2 Ainsley Riggs
I Don’t
I hold Jordan’s hands in mine as I stare into his blue eyes.
I didn’t think it would really happen for me.
It was my best friend who signed me up for this reality show and convinced me to do it.
Speed to the Altar, sort of a mash-up of different reality dating shows that end with a wedding, wasn’t on my radar.
But when Ivy saw the casting call in Chicago, she convinced me to do it.
And now, four weeks to the day after I met Jordan, I’m standing at a chapel in Las Vegas wearing a wedding dress about to say the words that will bond us together for the rest of our lives.
It’s bananas, right?
I’m only twenty-two, but the dating pool in Chicago was thin, I hated my job, and I needed some excitement in my boring life, so I tried it.
Who would’ve thought I’d actually end up here, an actual Cinderella story in the making?
Not me.
“Do you, Ainsley, take Jordan to be your husband?” the officiant hired by the production team asks.
I smile at Jordan, and I pause as instructed so the editors can insert an even longer pause for dramatic effect. “I do.”
Jordan seems to falter at my words, my goofy grin, and the expression on my face over the total thrill that I fell in love on a reality show.
He’s not smiling back.
That should be my first clue.
I’m too overcome with my own excitement to notice.
“And Jordan, do you take Ainsley to be your wife?” the officiant asks.
He presses his lips together, and I’m certain for a beat that it’s that same dramatic pause.
But then something shifts in his eyes, and a pit drops down into my stomach.
“I’m not ready to commit to you for the rest of my life. I’m so sorry. I don’t.”
I gasp.
I wasn’t expecting that.
At least it’s just us in the chapel, unlike other shows that host weddings for entire families to witness this dreaded moment. Well, it’s us in here along with the other couples and the production staff.
You know, just like a hundred people or so to witness my complete and total embarrassment, only for the entire world to witness it in a few months when editing is complete and this stupid show airs.
The world seems to spin too fast for me as everyone else in the room reacts with gasps of their own—except for Jordan and maybe like one or two producers who knew coming in here that he was going to say that.
That he was going to break my heart.
In four weeks, I fell in love.
And now, I’m running as fast as my heels will carry me out of this godforsaken chapel, through the hotel, and out onto the Strip, where I heave in gulps of fresh air that really aren’t so fresh since it’s July in Vegas and the traffic is heavy and reeks of exhaust.
I start to run.
To where? I have no clue. I’m in an unfamiliar town, and I have no idea where I’m going, but I do know I need to get the hell away from here.
Maybe Jordan said it as a joke. He was kind of a jokester that way, but I don’t think he’d joke about something as big as I don’t. Regardless, I ran out before he could explain, so maybe I’ll never know.
Tears stream down my face, and I know the producers will want to talk to me. They’ll want my reaction. I can’t give it. Not now. I need a chance to compose myself before they force me into some corner and make me talk about how the guy I said yes to said no to me.
I cry harder, and I run harder.
I glance behind me, and I spot two of the producers just running out the front doors of the hotel as they look around for me.
When I spot them, I turn a corner. I have no idea if they saw me or not.
And when I turn that corner, I run straight into a wall.
It takes me a minute to realize it’s not a wall at all, but it’s a man built like one. He has a broad, expansive chest, and he must be well over six feet tall—six-foot-four, maybe? He towers over me at my mere five-five height, lifted a bit by the heels I’m running in.
“Oh, gosh. I’m so sorry,” I mumble, and when I back up, the man takes me by the biceps to help steady me.
And when I look up at him as he towers over me, I gasp again.
I recognize him.
And my God, he’s hotter than the last time I saw him.
Pull it together, Riggs.
“Dex?” I say, and he looks at me in confusion as if he has no idea who I am. I’m panting from running, and I’m trying to catch my breath, but he’s currently taking it away even more.
“Are you okay?” he asks as he looks me over. I must look like a disaster. I was beautified by a huge staff, but now I’m just a runaway bride with tears tracking makeup down her face as her chin-length hair has already started losing the beauty the stylists created for the wedding.
“Dex Bradley?” I say instead of answering.
“Yes. I’m Dex Bradley. Do you need some help?”
He still doesn’t recognize me, and I suck in a deep breath as I try to get the crying under control.
“Dex, it’s me. Ainsley Riggs. Your little sister’s best friend.”
“Ains?” he says, stepping back and really looking at me. “Jesus. I didn’t recognize you like that. What the fuck are you doing?”
“Running away from the altar,” I say a little sheepishly. I suck in a deep breath to try to stop panting and regain some composure. “Long story, but I need to get out of here. Can you help me?”
“Of course,” he says, and he taps something on his phone and starts walking back in the opposite direction he was traveling when I ran into him. He doesn’t say anything to me, and I’m not sure if I’m supposed to follow behind him or not.
I do, and we’re just standing around for a minute when I sniffle and say, “I’m sorry to have interrupted whatever you were doing.”
“I was running,” he says. He’s not panting like I was.
“So was I,” I say wryly.
More silence spans between us, and a couple minutes later, a car pulls up to the curb on the side street we’re on.
“Get in,” he says, and he gets in beside me.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Back to my place. Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
Oh, God. I’m going back to Dex Bradley’s place with him? Like this?
This is not how I imagined running into my best friend’s hot, pro football-playing older brother.
I’ve managed to get the tears under control at this point, so I launch into my story.
“Ivy talked me into going on this new reality show that ends with weddings. Oh, God, Dex, this is so mortifying. I just said I do, and the guy I was about to marry said he didn’t, and I took off running.
The producers are probably searching the streets for me since they own this dress and I do not, but I can’t face them.
I can’t answer questions in a corner about how I feel.
I quit my job to do this. I’ve spent the last four weeks getting to know someone who seemed genuine but turned out not to be. What do I do now?”
I don’t know why I lay the entire truth on him. I guess because I don’t know anybody in this town except for him. I actually forgot he was here.
We don’t know each other. Not really. I’m eleven years his junior, and he sort of came and went when he pleased by the time Ivy and I met.
He was in his twenties when Ivy and I were in high school.
He didn’t give a crap about the teenager his sister was friends with.
And I’m sure he still doesn’t, yet here I am, throwing my entire life story at him.
“Fuck ’em,” he mutters.
“Huh?”
“Fuck those producers. Fuck that guy that said no to you.” He shrugs. “Not in the literal sense. Don’t go have sex with them. But fuck them over the way they fucked you over. Lay low for a few days, and it’ll blow over.” He gazes out the window as he talks. “Everything always does, right?”
He seems lost in thought as he says the words, and I’m not sure what to say to that.
“Lay low where?” I ask instead.
He looks over at me almost like he forgot I was here, and he sort of narrows his eyes at me.
He studies me for a few beats, and I feel my cheeks heat at his dark, mysterious eyes on me.
He tilts his head, and then he asks, “How would you like a temporary job while I figure some things out? You can lay low at my place.”
My brows push together. “What kind of job?”
“How are you with kids?”
I lift a shoulder. “Pretty good. I actually considered early childhood education as a major, but when I saw how much money preschool teachers ma—”
“Fine. You’re hired,” he says, interrupting me.
I clear my throat. “I’m sorry. What?”
“You’re hired,” he says, enunciating the words as if I didn’t hear him the first time.
“No, I heard you. What’s the job?”
The car pulls to a stop out in front of a large complex.
“I’ll show you,” he says. He gets out and holds out a hand to help me out of the back of the car.
He greets the doorman, who doesn’t gawk at me even though I’m in a wedding dress, and he presses a button on the elevator. We head up to the top floor, and when we get out, he opens the door to his place.
It’s a pretty sweet setup, but it’s hard to focus on his penthouse suite when all I can focus on is the gorgeous woman crying as she hugs a baby tightly to her chest.
I have no clue what’s going on, but the woman sniffles and tries to pull herself together when she spots us.
“Oh, um…sorry. I thought I had a little more time.” Her eyes fall to me, and unlike the doorman, she gawks. “Who is she?”
“A runaway bride,” Dex deadpans, and I can’t help but laugh.
“I’m Ainsley. I’m Dex’s sis—”
“She’s my girlfriend.” He interrupts me before I get the chance to say I’m his sister’s friend and that I just happened to run into Dex when I was running away from my wedding.
I thought those words sounded absolutely frickin’ ridiculous. But she’s my girlfriend somehow steals the show.
My jaw drops and my stomach flips as he walks over and slips his arm around my waist.
“I was out for a run, and she was just leaving her photo shoot,” he tells the woman.
“Ains, this is Tawny and Jack. Jack and Tawny, Ainsley.” He nods back and forth between us as he makes the introductions.
“Ains, I know this is nuts, but I just found out I have a son about forty-five minutes ago. Tawny is, uh…heading away for a while, and she’s leaving Jack with me.
Can you help me out for a few days until I figure out a more permanent solution? ”
My eyes grow even wider. Like, we’re at the point where they may actually just pop out. I mean…yeah, I was interested in early childhood education, but that’s a little different than actually caring for a baby. And his girlfriend? I’m still not over that.
I pull it together. For whatever reason, he wants her to think we’re together, and he just grabbed me legitimately off the street to help me out, so I play along.
I fold my arms over my chest as I think through how to play this in the span of a single second. A girlfriend wouldn’t exactly be calm to find out her boyfriend had a baby with another woman, right?
“You have a baby?” I demand.
“He’s six months old, and I was with Tawny long before you and I got together,” he says, and there’s a begging quality to his voice.
“We’ll talk about this later,” I huff. I stride down the hall and search for Dex’s bedroom. A girlfriend would know where his bedroom is, right? I end up in a bathroom.
He follows me.
Can I help him?
Probably. I have experience with babies despite my choice of profession. I come from a rather large family, just like Dex does, but I’m the oldest of five siblings. I took care of my littlest brother when he was born and I was twelve, so it’s not like I’ve never changed a diaper or fed a baby.
My parents are both teachers, and they make very little money.
We just barely scraped by each month, and it’s why I chose a different path when I chose a major.
I wanted to be a teacher, too, but I thought there’d be more money in communications.
But when you’re a communications major and you end up as a data analyst for an insurance company, you start out pretty much on the bottom rung of the corporate ladder.
It’s a fairly large regret of mine. I sort of wish I would’ve just gone into teaching from the start.
I wasn’t leaving all that much behind by going on Speed to the Altar.
Ivy, yes—she’s my best friend, but with me out of college and her still in it, we have different schedules.
And my family, of course. I’m close with my parents and my four siblings, but I’m not supposed to talk to any of them about this until the show airs.
I guess I just liked the idea of having the chance to find a happy ending the nontraditional way. Instead, I just met another dead end.
But since I have nothing to return to and I need to lay low for a while, helping my best friend’s older brother in his penthouse overlooking Las Vegas Boulevard seems about as good an opportunity as I’ll come across.
“Down the hall,” he says, and I walk down to what must be his room.
He walks in behind me and shuts the door. “I’m sorry.”
I blow out a breath. This is nuts. Bananas. Totally over the top.
But the truth is, it’s also an opportunity.
I need somewhere to hide, and that may be all he needs from me.
“I can help you. But I need help, too. I need to get my suitcase from my hotel so I can change out of this nonsense.” I sweep my hand down the dress production chose for me. Next time I’m at the altar, I’d love to choose my own gear. If there ever is a next time.
“Oh, Milton can help with that,” Dex says.
“Milton?” I ask.
“The doorman.”
I nod. “Great. I, uh…don’t have my phone, though. They’ll want the dress back before they’ll return anything.”
Dex nods. “I’ll grab you something to wear, and we’ll get you your shit back. It might be a little big on you, though. Give me a minute.”
He disappears, and I head back out to the woman with the baby in her arms.
“So where are you headed?” I ask brightly, trying to make conversation.
She bursts into tears again. “Jail.”
Oh, jeez. What the hell am I getting myself into here?