Chapter 27
JULES
I’m gonna bolt.
I’m gonna be like one of those clichéd brides-to-be that you see in movies. The ones who hike up their dress by the hem and run for the hills instead of walking down the aisle.
Not because I don’t sort of like Lincoln. But because I can no longer deny that this marriage thing is the real deal.
The deeper Lincoln and I get, the more I feel like this might all be a horrible mistake.
There are so many innocent hearts involved in the decisions we’re making. My great-grandmother. Both of our mothers. Cameron. Heck, even Lincoln’s ex-wife.
The lies roll so easily off our tongues now that everyone seems to believe that our relationship is legit. The people closest to us believe that my so-called groom and I are heading down some fairytale path that leads to a happily ever after.
Meanwhile, I can hardly stand being in the same room as the man.
I don’t know if I can betray all these people that I care about. Imagining the disappointment that will be on their faces after we ‘break up’ in a few months just about breaks me.
I don’t want to even think about that day.
Lumbering across the bridal suite in my long wedding dress, I peel the curtains back and peek at the guests gathered in Great-Grandma’s backyard.
I shudder.
My cold feet might also have something to do with the fact that my father is here, along with his evil wife. Seeing his smug face always puts me in a jittery mood.
I hate that he has to walk me down the aisle today. I hate that he’s being forced to. But Great-Grandma is nothing but traditional.
I want to tell her that Dad is a hypocrite. I want to remind her that this whole thing feels so disingenuous. My father obviously didn’t give two shits about disrespecting his own marriage vows. Having him here at my wedding just feels like a dark cloud of ugliness. It doesn’t feel right.
Which probably makes me a hypocrite, too.
Nerves ziplining erratically around my body, I glance around the room. My makeup artist is busy getting Alba and Laney—my beautiful bridesmaids—all dolled up and fussing over each of them. I sense an opportunity, and I decide to take it.
That’s it. I’m running.
Without a second thought, I shove my bare feet into my boots, grab my leather jacket, and stealthily escape out of the bridal suite.
I sprint as fast as my dress allows down Great-Grandma’s creaky, high-ceilinged hallway. The front door is in sight. I feel like there’s a big neon exit sign flashing above it.
Only ten more feet.
Six more feet.
Two.
But just as I’m about to bolt out of the giant double door entrance, my stupid conscience catches up with me. My legs halt. Don’t be a coward, Jules. At the very least, face this mess you’ve made head on.
Ugh. My guardian angel is right. I can’t do this to Lincoln. Not like this.
I make a reluctant detour, wobbling down the opposite hallway to the groom’s suite, a.k.a, my great-grandfather’s old office.
Not bothering to knock, I burst inside. The door bangs against the wood-paneled wall and every groomsman turns to face me.
Lincoln’s brothers look on cautiously, staring in my direction with wide eyes.
I know I must look crazy, standing here, wearing my unlaced biker boots and old leather jacket over my wedding gown.
The men are all mostly dressed. Just a few unbuttoned shirts and loose belts.
Well, except for Rocco who for some reason, is wearing nothing but a pair of socks with wedding cakes all over them. Somehow, I’m not surprised. That guy is so unserious.
He cups both hands over his junk, spinning around and giving me an unwanted view of his bare ass.
“Uhh…I don’t think you’re supposed to be here, Jules,” he shouts, ducking behind a tufted wingback armchair and gesturing for Oliver to toss him his pants.
“Yeah. I think it’s bad luck,” Easton chimes in as he fiddles with his crooked bow tie.
I emit a shaky breath. “I’m pretty sure my luck is already fucked,” I manage to mumble.
Lincoln’s stare locks onto mine, narrowing in concern. “Would you guys give us some privacy?” His eyes remain on me as the men shuffle out of the room.
“I’m just going to take this with me. Sorry, not sorry,” Oliver mutters, snatching a bottle of brown liquor off the antique sideboard on his way out.
Rocco duck-waddles at the back of the line, his pants clenched in one fist by the waistband and his shirt crumpled up in his other fist. He’s grumbling the whole way.
Lincoln and I both ignore the guys. We just stand there in silence, staring at each other.
The moment the door finally closes, Lincoln steps toward me. He looks better than I even imagined in his fitted tux pants and crisp button-down shirt. His fresh haircut and clean shave make him so handsome that I almost forget the terrifying fate that awaits us on the other side of that door.
“What’s going on, Jules? What happened?” His palms stroke up and down my trembling forearms.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I don’t…I just…I’m sorry…I’m having second thoughts. I don’t want to deceive all our loved ones.”
His concerned expression doesn’t waver. Not a hint of annoyance or disappointment appear. “Okay. Okay,” he repeats, nodding and wiping at my overflowing tears with his thumbs.
God—disappointing him feels so unexpectedly shitty.
“I know we have an agreement…and you’re depending on me to hold up my end of the deal…and—”
“Hey, don’t worry about me,” he whispers in a gentle rasp. “Whatever you choose is the right decision. Either way, I’ll stand by you when we face our guests today.”
After saying those reassuring words, he pulls me toward him and holds me tightly in his warm, strong arms. And my shaking begins to wane.
I wasn’t seeking his comfort when I darted in here, but I sure can’t complain. Somehow all the noise quiets when he’s holding me. I’m able to think a little more clearly.
I need my trust fund. Lincoln needs his business deal. It sounds selfish, yes. But doing this will give us the keys to get ahead in life.
Could it potentially hurt our loved ones? Maybe. But those loved ones—Cameron, my mom, Lincoln’s mom—they will be so much better off when we’re able to take care of them financially.
This marriage is something temporary. Something convenient.
The short-term turmoil will be nothing once we finally achieve our goals. We just need to get our asses down that aisle.
The door bursts open again, making us jump. I turn to find Great-Grandma ambling into the room, wearing her finest dress and lipstick and jewelry. Her eyes widen when she finds us alone, hugging.
“Hey now, you two. No nookie before tying the knot. Save that stuff for tonight.” She stabs at the floor with her walking stick.
Lincoln cringes, and I shudder, hoping to never ever hear the word ‘nookie’ roll off my great-grandma’s lips again.
“Oh, no nookie is happening right now,” I promise.
“Scout’s honor,” Lincoln adds.
Great-Grandma scans me up and down, taking in my outfit. I’m afraid that she’ll scold me for my choice of attire. Instead, she only frowns slightly. “Your neck looks dreadfully plain, dear. I’d like you to wear this.”
That’s when I notice that she’s holding a jewelry box in her hand. She struggles to open it. Lincoln steps in to help her.
She blushes.
“Thank you,” she says sweetly to my charming groom. “These fingers of mine don’t work like they used to.”
Lincoln offers her a smile. Then we all glance down at the gorgeous string of pearls sitting in the cushioned jewelry box.
I gasp. “Great-Grandma. This is beautiful.”
“Go ahead. Put it on your bride,” she coaxes Lincoln.
Lincoln steps behind me, carefully clasping the string of pearls around my neck. His fingertips graze my skin and I try to focus on the pearls. My heart beats faster as I turn to watch my reflection in the nearby mirror.
“You look beautiful,” Lincoln says before I can find my words.
Now, I’m blushing. “Thank you.” My eyes turn toward my great-grandmother. “This is incredible, Great-Grandma,” I say.
“Something borrowed for your special day.” She pats my upper arm.
Her shrewd gaze scans my groom and me, standing side by side.
She looks pleased, nodding. “A handsome couple indeed. Just perfect.” Then the sentimental moment is over and she’s back to snapping at us.
“Hurry up. The guests are getting antsy, and they’re trampling on my lawn. ”
As soon as she disappears, I turn back toward Lincoln. “I’ve decided.”
His fingers gently brush my hair back from my face. “What’s it going to be, Troublemaker?”
“I’m going to marry you.” I push the air out of my lungs. “But I have one big favor to ask.”
“Anything you need,” Lincoln says with a fiercely protective nod.
“Walk down the aisle with me?”
For a moment, he looks surprised at my request. Then he smiles. “I can do that.”