Will of the Runaway Bride
1. Della
DELLA
Speeding down the interstate, I look at my vibrating phone for the millionth time and throw it in the passenger seat.
Fuck everyone. I’m equal parts rattled and fed up with the incessant ringing and texts, because they’ve been following me for the last three hundred miles.
I wish I could turn the damn thing off, but then I’d have no idea where I am going, and I’m already leagues out of my comfort zone.
As it stands, I’m terrified my cell service is going to give out, and then I’m most likely going to be…
bear food. Or wolf food. I don’t even know what big carnivorous animals live out here, but I know I won’t survive an attack.
The landscape has switched a number of times, and based on how my mind is spinning about ways I could disappear out here, it appears to be the ideal place to hide a body. And with that thought, I turn off the crime podcast I’m listening to, and try my luck with the radio.
According to the map I am living and dying by, I have about three to four hours left until I reach my destination; the tiny town of Driggs, Idaho.
Quinn, my college roommate, best friend, and maid of honor, grew up there.
Since I’ve been there a handful of times and love her family, it seems like a good, remote place to run to.
She and I were the most unlikely of friends given our upbringings.
My graduating class in Chicago had more students than her entire town.
But from the moment we met at the University of Boulder, we were inseparable.
She’s still my ride or die, and living up to that status having provided me with a getaway car, snacks, broke the news to the wedding guests, and gave me her spare credit card with the explicit instruction to run far and fast.
I bang my head on the back of the car seat, thinking about the last hours of my life.
My eyes water again as I feel the weight of the utter betrayal in every fiber of my being.
My stomach wretches, and if I had anything substantial in it, I’m sure I’d puke.
All I’ve been able to stomach are tiny bites of mini-pretzels.
How could I have been so dumb? I sharply wipe the tear that streaks across my cheek.
So desperate for my father’s approval, and to make things right.
So willing to look the other way, even though I knew it was all wrong.
I never imagined this, but my gut knew the entire time.
Today was supposed to be my redemption, and the marriage, my penance.
A sob escapes my lips, and I try to rein it in. If I lose control of myself, I’ll lose control of the car, and if I crash, I’m back to being bear food.
The phone vibrates again, and when I look to see that it’s Quinn, I turn the phone to speaker. It’s the first time we’ve spoken since everything exploded.
“Checking in, Del, how are you holding up?” she asks.
“I still can’t make heads or tails of it, Quinn.
Everything feels… I’m not even sure what to compare it to.
Everything hurts. I want to rage. Part of me feels like it was inevitable, so better now than later.
But when I’m not thinking about dying a slow death in the lands of wherever the hell I am, I’m crying. Why did I let that happen again?”
“Well, gaslighting and guilt come to mind.”
“I’m so mad,” I say through gritted teeth.
“You should be,” she affirms.
“What’s my dad saying?” I ask, realizing I’m not asking about Tripp. Because he owes me nothing, but my own fucking father should.
“Eh, raging for the wrong reasons,” she keeps it vague and tells me things on a need-to-know basis. “Where are you?”
“No idea. I’m sure I’m one wrong turn from death. Does Bigfoot live out here?”
Quinn laughs so hard she’s pushed into a coughing fit. “No, Bigfoot lives in the forest. You’re on the grasslands of Wyoming at this point, which is skinwalker territory, babes. Have you stopped yet?”
The sound that comes out of my mouth sounds foreign. “What the fuck is a skinwalker, Quinn? And no, I haven’t stopped yet.”
She brushes over my question and goes into mom mode. “So jokes aside, you’re not in Chicago anymore. Don’t let your gas get below a fourth. The gas stations are spread far apart out there, and I know how you like to let that fuel gauge touch the E.”
“That sounds like common sense, and yet, I didn’t even consider that. I’ll get off at the next stop.” I rub my temple and sigh. Yup, there’s no way I’m making it out here.
“Have you eaten?” she asks.
I shake my head as if she can see me. “Not really. I’m just slowly nibbling the bag of pretzels you threw in. That should help with my figure and all,” my throat tightens up as I say it. I had strict instructions not to gain any weight before the wedding so I could look perfect in the photos.
“Stop that shit right now. In fact, I want you to forget all of it, especially Tripp. Fuck that guy… and his whole family”
Tripp Worthington.
The man I just stood up at the altar. However, I’m not sure if it can technically be considered standing him up at the altar if he was never standing there. He found out I skipped town before he made it to church.
This morning, after my hair was done at seven, I realized that I’d accidentally grabbed the wrong box for the most important thing I was going to carry today: our family wedding bracelet.
It has been in our family for four generations, and every time someone has gotten married, they add a dated wedding charm to it.
It was especially important to me because it felt like another way to keep my mom close when she couldn’t be with me.
Unwilling to take any photos without it on, I asked Quinn to borrow one of her spare cars so I could run and get it.
Although she offered to do it for me, I knew it would be easier if I went since everything was scattered around our penthouse suite.
The groomsmen weren’t gathering until ten-thirty, and I knew he and his best man were doing nine holes before the wedding. No one would know I’d snuck over.
But when I went to the penthouse, the music was pounding.
I can’t believe someone hadn’t called the front desk.
Or maybe they had. Tripp didn’t care what people said, and had the bank account to make many of his indiscretions disappear.
Call it divine intervention or dumb luck, but the volume covered up my initial entry and provided me the opportunity to follow the additional sounds I heard.
When I got to the source, our bedroom, I had to put my hands over my mouth to physically stop myself from screaming. I stood there for longer than I should have, and after I’d heard and seen enough, I tiptoed away.
Because I’d followed traditions and slept at Quinn’s the night before, most of my vitally important stuff was already at her house.
But regardless, in a rush, I grabbed whatever I could that was lying around the penthouse, including the bracelet, left the ring, and snuck back out, calling Quinn on my way back to explain everything.
In true best-friend form, she met me outside her house with my suitcase, snacks, and money, and encouraged me to go west to her hometown instead of east back to Chicago.
Knowing I had a destination where I could land in until I figured out what I wanted to do about everything was clutch.
Then she went above and beyond, volunteering to deal with the fallout.
So after that, I took off. It’s hard to have the kind of picture-perfect wedding the Worthingtons were after if there’s no bride.