Story looked her square in the eye. “It’s going to change you, Hayden.”
Hayden’s mouth dropped open, but no response came out. What could she say? Story was 100 percent right. A loveless marriage, a lifetime spent putting on a happy face, would kill her emotionally. She’d become just like every other bored and miserable high-society mama in Manhattan. Trying to fill the void with possessions.
Brent. What would become of him? He’d meet some spunky, outdoorsy-type with cute freckles she secretly hated. The kind of girl who would wear a Mets jersey and cheer like her life depended on every game’s outcome. She’d probably say things like, “Let’s grill out,” and “Grab me a beer, hon?” She’d probably love camping and The Three Stooges. He’d have her knocked up with Brent Junior before the icing dried on their wedding cake. Her name would be Becky or Beth or Betsy and she’d wear his shirts to sleep at night.
Not fair! I want to wear his stupid, bigfoot-size shirts to sleep. Just thinking about Becky/Beth/Betsy and their Brent Brood made her so depressed, she was surprised to find herself still standing. Just as surprising, the clerk was already halfway through the marriage vows. Panic set in. Oh God. It suddenly hit her what a huge step she’d agreed to take. Hayden’s frantic gaze flew to Stuart, who was asking the clerk if he could speed along the process. Marry this guy and forgo any chance with Brent? She couldn’t do it. Could she?
What about her parents? Without their dozen or so charities to run, she could put her college degree to use and find a job. They might not have the life they were accustomed to anymore, but they could be comfortable. She would make sure of it.
“Hayden Winstead, do you take Stuart Nevin to be your husband?”
She opened her mouth, hell no perched on the tip of her tongue, when everything happened at once. Story, after darting a nervous glance toward the closed chamber door, squeezed her eyes shut. And flashed her breasts at the clerk.
Then the pounding on the door began.
…
This can’t be happening. I’m just having a nightmare. The nightmare of the century. No, it’s real. Too real. Oh my God, please tell me I made it. Please. She’s my girl. Mine. No, no, no. I need her.
Brent left his ESU truck parked haphazardly against the curb and sprinted up the steps to City Hall, lights flashing behind him and thunder roaring in his ears. He didn’t remember much about the last ten minutes. The high-speed race to Lower Manhattan. He’d managed to process most of Daniel’s rapid explanation of Hayden’s reasons for getting married, courtesy of Story’s phone call.
At first, he’d thought the whole thing was some horrible mistake. She wouldn’t marry someone else. They’d had a fight, yes, but shit, when were they not fighting? He’d made it very clear yesterday morning that she belonged to him and no amount of fighting would change that. However, marriage to some slimy corporate prick would. Legally. The more words that had come out of Daniel’s mouth from the passenger seat, the more Brent knew Hayden was actually getting married at that very moment.
Her halted speech on the boardwalk in Atlantic City had come back to him in startling clarity. He didn’t have to take me in. I kind of owe him for everything, you know? Even if it sometimes means I have to do things that are…difficult.
Not this. Never this. His Hayden married to the man who’d refused to take no for an answer that night in the kitchen? His vision went red all over again. He needed to get to her. No matter what it took, he wouldn’t let it happen. Jesus, if he’d even made it on time.
Matt and Daniel caught up with him at the entrance, thankfully having the presence of mind to flash their badges at the security guard. The guard eyed Brent warily and he knew he had to look like a man possessed. He felt like it, too. His heart pounded so loudly, he couldn’t think straight. All he could see was Hayden with someone else’s ring on her finger. In someone else’s bed. Having someone else’s children.
That thought chilled him to the bone. He increased the pace of his run, somehow processing the room number Matt shouted behind him. He rounded the corner and saw the massive, wooden double doors with the words City Clerk stenciled above them. They were closed. When he reached them, he yanked on the knob, shaking the doors on their hinges, but they were locked. Keeping him from Hayden. He searched around, frantically looking for a security guard.
“Open it!” all three men shouted at the same time, badges out, when they spotted one.
The tall, skinny guard went white, as if he’d just glimpsed hell. “I-I’m supposed to leave it locked during ceremonies.” He dropped his key ring on the ground with a clatter and stooped to retrieve them, hands shaking. “They’re almost done, though. Just another few minutes…”