Asking for Trouble(60)

Brent swallowed. “What is it?”

“We need to get down to City Hall.”

A moment later, Brent burst through the front entrance of Quincy’s and ran full speed for the ESU truck, Daniel and Matt right behind him.





Chapter Seventeen

Hayden and Story sat side-by-side on a hard wooden bench outside the city clerk’s chamber, waiting for Hayden’s turn to get married. She’d gone with a simple navy pencil skirt and white blouse. Her mother’s pearl earrings. In clear protest of her decision, Story had shown up in frayed, cutoff jean shorts and moccasins. Last night, amid a sea of Chinese food containers and empty wine bottles, with Troop Beverly Hills playing in the background, she’d confessed everything to Story. Her friend’s reaction had been as expected, simultaneously sympathetic and outraged, but she’d managed to exact her promise to keep quiet about Hayden’s impromptu wedding.

After speaking with her father, she’d rushed to Stuart’s apartment before any more damage could be done, negotiating his reinstatement of the loan payment in exchange for her promise to marry him the following day. To his credit, he hadn’t made her grovel, even though he’d been decidedly smug. Just before she’d left, he’d asked her about Brent.

He’s a nonissue, she’d said, nearly choking as she said the words.

Stuart, who stood several feet away, wore a perfectly tailored suit. Unfortunately, it only made her think of the king-size suit she’d rented for Brent. How amazing it had looked on him. And off of him. With a gulp, she tried to think of something—anything—else besides the man who’d barged his way past her defenses. Twenty-four hours ago, she’d been in bed with him. Hope burgeoning in her chest, along with a sense of rightness. Yesterday morning felt like it had taken place a decade ago, even if the pain of walking away from him was still horribly fresh.

Her fiancé laughed into his cell phone and checked his watch for the third time in as many minutes. He had a meeting to get to, after all.

Whoever said romance is dead?

“You don’t have to do this,” Story whispered to Hayden, blue-green glare fixed on Stuart. Having just met Hayden’s future husband for the first time, Story had taken an immediate dislike to him. A rarity for her amiable best friend. Hayden didn’t blame her. “There has to be another solution. I mean, my God, you’re not some…sacrificial lamb. This is archaic.”

“Did you come up with that line in the bathroom just now?”

“Yes. Did it work?”

Hayden patted her hand. “Sorry, Shakespeare.”

Story sighed. “I know you were in no mood to discuss the elephant in the room last night”—she dropped her voice—“but come on. What about Brent?”

“He’s more of an ape. And I’m still in no mood.”

“Too bad,” Story snapped, making Hayden’s eyes widen. “There is something between you two. What do you think he would say if he was standing right here? If he knew you were about to marry someone else?”

She swallowed hard. Don’t think about it. “He’d probably say ‘What are you doing here? The shoe sale is two blocks over!’ Then he’d walk away, knuckles dragging on the ground.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“The knuckles part?”

“All of it.” Story pushed to her feet and started to pace just as a happy-looking couple emerged from the clerk’s chamber. Their parents followed behind them taking pictures. Tears pricked Hayden’s eyelids. Her parents wouldn’t even be at her wedding. When she’d gone to Stuart yesterday afternoon and agreed to marry him, she’d done it on the condition that he leave her father in the dark. She didn’t want him finding out before it was finished or he’d try to stop it. Her mother, on the other hand, seemed satisfied with this turn of events and was presently making sure her father stayed occupied until the deed was done.

“Stuart Nevin and Hayden Winstead,” a court officer called from the chamber door, signaling their time had come. For a moment, she felt rooted to her seat, the pit in her stomach too heavy for her to move. Breathing steadily in and out through her nose, she stood on shaky legs and approached the chamber. She glanced over at Story, who chewed her lip as she followed them inside.

“Last chance, Hay,” she whispered. “Say the word and we’re out of here. I’ll have us riding donkeys in Mexico by tomorrow morning.”

Hayden gave a sad laugh. “I know you would, sweetie, and I love you for it.” When Story barely bit back a sob, the pit in her stomach yawned wider. She attempted a brave face even though she felt her world caving in around her. “Hey, none of that. We can still ride donkeys in Mexico. This isn’t going to change anything.”