Running Towards You

I tried to take another deep, cleansing breath—they had to work at some point, right? Eventually, I wouldn’t want to run screaming from my own wedding, right?

It was ridiculous. I was sure Marcus had some of the same jitters. We should talk it out, and then I could walk down the aisle to him, certain of my decision.

I started for the door, making broad movements to account for my wedding dress's overly full tulle skirt. It was not the dress I would have chosen for myself. In fact, most elements of the wedding were not things I would’ve chosen for us. But with Marcus being in the public eye as the up-and-coming star of Congress, he insisted the wedding planner make all the decisions because she would know exactly what was expected of a rising politician with aspirations for the White House.

Thus, everything was cream and beige. I still shivered at that last color, and so did my best friend and maid of honor, Tess, considering she got stuck with the dowdy beige number that made her to-die-for curves look like a sack of potatoes.

“Um, excuse me. Where do you think you’re going?” the wedding planner, Nadia, asked in a slightly shrill voice.

I couldn’t wait until I no longer had to hear that voice. “I just need to have a quick word with Marcus ...”

“Oh no, no, no, you can’t be serious? It’s bad luck for him to see you before the ceremony,” she said as if I were the stupidest person she’d ever met.

“That’s a superstition,” I started, but Nadia wasn’t having it.

“That may be so, but it’s been proven accurate time and time again …” She continued as my eyes darted to Tess, who stood behind Nadia, watching me carefully.

She saw my look of panic and interceded physically by stepping in between Nadia and me. “Nadia, I’m so sorry to interrupt, but is that ice sculpture supposed to look like an angel peeing?”

“What? Oh my god, not again,” Nadia huffed, grabbing a walkie-talkie from her waistband and angrily barking orders as she hurried from the room, Tess following behind her, mouthing You’re welcome as she cleared the path for my exit.

I hustled out of the bridal suite and down the hall to the opposite end of the building toward the groom’s suite. Marcus was so pragmatic; his calm and no-nonsense approach to life always assured me there was a plan in place. I needed to hear his practical reasoning before I made the biggest commitment of my life.

I knocked on the door and slowly opened it. It wasn’t like Marcus and I had anything to hide from one another, and I didn’t have time for manners.

"Marcus," I started, but my voice caught in my throat at the sight that met my eyes. I was staring at Marcus's back, which was hunched over his trusty assistant. He had his tux on, but his pants were down around his knees as his hips pumped furiously into a moaning Skylar.

They both stilled. Then he turned to look at me. "This isn't what it looks like," he said almost instantly.

I don't know why, but I laughed. Maybe because what he said was so absurd, though it seemed an odd time to even note that. "I may have been born in the dark, Marcus, but I wasn't born yesterday. It’s pretty clear what’s going on here."

There was a shuffling as he and Skylar parted and covered their necessary bits. Skylar looked between the two of us, then fled the room like a scared rabbit. I couldn't explain the feelings coursing through me. I should be enraged. I should be sad, but I mostly felt … numb.

I looked at him awkwardly, "I—I'll let you fix yourself up, and then we should talk," I said, retreating and closing the door behind me.

My reaction puzzled me. It wasn't like in the movies, where the woman started throwing things or dropped to her knees in agony. None of that felt like the right thing to do.

I stood outside the door, staring out the window on the opposite side of the hall unseeingly for a couple of minutes before I heard the door open behind me, and Marcus cleared his throat.

"First of all," he said calmly, "I'm sorry you had to see that." I laughed again. He said it as if I’d just walked in on him masturbating, not like he'd been fucking his trashy assistant minutes before our wedding ceremony.

"I know it's no excuse, but I'm nervous. This is a big event, and I realize you have every right to be upset, but I just ask that …" He wavered, then forged ahead. "That we table this until after the ceremony."

I felt my mouth drop open, but he wasn't done. "Haley, we have a lot of guests waiting out there for us who have given their precious time to see us get married. We don't want to disappoint them. I know this must have been shocking to you, but I am confident we can work through it … just not right now."

That was when the anger finally hit in full force.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

His eyes widened, and he looked to each end of the hall to spot any passersby. "Haley," he chastised. "Lower your voice."

"The hell I will!"

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