Fugitive: A Bad Boy Romance (Northbridge Nights Book 2) (8 page)

“I'm only twenty-five, Rob. I—I don't think I could handle the stress of working full-time and taking care of a baby.”

“But you won't be working,” Rob stated, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Your full-time job will be to raise our kids.”

At that, I sprang up in bed, stiff as a board. “What do you mean? I don't want to be a stay-at-home mom.”

Rob brushed his fingers along my arm and I clenched my jaw. “You'd make the perfect housewife. You'll love it. My mom stayed at home with me and I had a very blessed childhood. You and the kids won't have to worry about anything. I make enough to support all of us.”

“You're not hearing me, Rob. I want to advance my career. Get my law degree. Have a job and contribute to society.”

Rob sighed. “A woman's greatest contribution to society is raising happy, healthy children.” His voice was thin and exasperated. “You know that.”

No. No, I didn’t ‘know’ that. Had I known this was how he felt about my role in the family, I would’ve had this discussion a long time ago. Six years ago. I’d just
assumed.
Assumed we were on the same page; that we wanted all the same things. And that where we differed, Rob would be the one to acquiesce.

I swung my legs off the side of the bed and stood up. “Do you have any idea how misogynistic you sound?”

Before he could answer, I stormed off into the living room and crashed on the couch. Hugging the cushion tight against my chest, I bit into it, trying to muffle my frustration.

Everyone just assumed we’d have kids right away. Rob assumed I’d just get pregnant and stay home forever. That I’d give up everything to raise kids and cook and clean. It was not the 1950s anymore! Feminism happened, remember? I wasn’t a feminist, but I had zero tolerance for misogyny. I was on the fence about kids in general. They were a lot of work, and I couldn’t see myself reasonably juggling children and a career. My mom did it, but I didn’t have her tenacity.

Apparently, my opinion was in the minority and very unpopular. But that didn’t mean I’d let them bully me into getting knocked up. I was no pushover where it mattered. And if I wanted to be a respected lawyer one day, I’d need to defend myself better.

At the end of the day, I was most upset because we couldn’t even have a civilized conversation about the topic. It was a hot button issue, and both of us were too stubborn to even listen to the other person. We rarely fought over the years, mostly because we worked too much to have energy for bickering. But…we’d be spending the rest of our lives together. There were a million different fights waiting to explode, over all sorts of things. Could we handle them like adults and still stay together?

We had to, right?

For better, or worse…?

“
T
ake a picture with me
, baby,” I said, holding up my silver flip phone.

“I look like shit,” Trisha replied, burying her face in her palms.

“You look like an angel,” I said. “Now show me that smile.” I tugged on her arm and she lowered it. Then, she plastered a fake grin on her face and I took a picture. I showed it to her and she frowned. The woman in the pixelated photo was gaunt, with bulging eyes and freckled, mocha skin. Her frizzy black hair was out of control, as usual. But I didn’t care. She was beautiful to me.

“I look like my mom,” she groaned.

“Your mom is still very foxy,” I teased, kissing her forehead.

Trisha swatted my arm and stuck out her tongue. “I'd rather kill myself than turn into my mom.”

“Don't say stuff like that,” I said, threading her fingers through mine. “You're nothing like your mom.”

“I drink too much,” Trisha said, biting her lips, “and I've got her temper.”

My thumb traced circles around the infinity tattoo on her inner wrist. “You
should
cut back on the booze.”

“Add some heroin in the mix and I'll be just like her.”

“No girlfriend of mine will be doing drugs so long as I'm around,” I said, squeezing her hand. “Did you check out the rehab program I showed you?”

Trisha shook her head slowly. “I've got like a million pages of Biology to read by Friday. And work. I don't have time for rehab.”

“Health comes before schoolwork,” I said, my brows knitted. I sniffed her clothes. They reeked of smoke and spilled liquor. “Did you drink today?”

Trisha bit her lip, nostrils flaring. She looked like a kid who’d just been caught stealing.

“Trish...”

“It was just one glass of wine. To help me de-stress after school.”

“One?”

“Fine, two.”

“Trish, I love you baby, but you can't keep doing this shit. Alcohol's going to kill all your brain cells.” I stood up and paced around the room.

Trisha fiddled with the hem of her skirt. “Not like I have any good ones left anyway.”

“You're smart, I know you are. You got into NBU for Chrissakes. I barely graduated high school. You just need to clean yourself up so you can graduate university with a solid GPA. We have big plans, remember?” I grabbed her hand. “How are we supposed to raise hell if you’re wasted all the time? How about we go visit the rehab place together? Tomorrow morning?”

Trisha groaned. “Do you have to come?”

I leaned into her, our nose tips almost touching. “Yes. For moral support. This will turn your life around, I promise.”

“I know something that'll turn my day around,” Trisha said, climbing on top of me. She nibbled on my earlobe, then sucked it between her lips. “Do you know what it is?”

“What?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“You. Balls deep inside me,” she whispered.

I groaned, twisting her hair around my fingers and pulling her head back. After kissing her neck for a few seconds, I murmured, “Promise me we'll go tomorrow.”

“Fine. But I'm not promising I'll check in.”

“Good enough,” I said, swooping her up into my arms. “Now what was it you said about me being balls deep inside you?”

After we'd finished, Trisha lay against my chest and hummed our song,
Pretty Woman
. Trish often told me I made her feel like the prettiest woman alive.

I dragged my fingers across her scalp, over and over. She loved it when I did that. Found the gesture incredibly soothing.

“Do you love me, Ki?”

“You know I do,” I murmured against her hair.

“You'll be with me no matter what, right?”

“Of course I will.”

“Even if I do something stupid?”

“Even if you do something stupid.” I added, “But I’ll probably stop you before you do anything too stupid.”

Trish grinned. “I love you, Kieran. And I can't wait to be your Mrs. Mahoney.”

“Soon, baby, I promise. As soon as I've saved up for a ring...”

“You know I don't need a ring,” Trisha said. “I just need your word.”

“I want you to have a ring. Something to make Bianca jealous.”

Trisha laughed. “Bianca won't be jealous of me. She's way prettier and more successful than me.”

“That might be true, but your sister doesn't have a Kieran.”

Trisha grinned, dimples forming on her cheeks. “That's right. I have a Kieran, and that's all I need.”

$
2
54,000
. That’s how much we spent on this wedding. Or rather, that's how much my parents and in-laws spent on this wedding. They were happy to do it too. As if a quarter-million dollars meant nothing to them. Personally, I was wracked with guilt, despite Rob’s repeated reassurances. I never wanted our wedding to become an overblown, ultra-glitz, ultra-glam event. In fact, I would’ve preferred a simple, intimate affair. But ‘simple’ was not in Lisa’s vocabulary. She wanted the very best of everything for her son, and managed to rope my parents into agreeing with her.

Of course my own mother had also been hysterical over wedding preparations. She’d phoned up everyone in her address book the same night Rob proposed. Mom was gossipy like that. Within twenty-four hours, every distant second cousin and their cat knew I was getting married.

Within days, Rob and I had picked out a massive three-carat diamond engagement ring. It was so over-the-top I was scared to wear it to work for fear of getting mugged. Thanks to pressure from Lisa, I’d also scoured all of Northbridge for the perfect wedding planner who could pull off this once-in-a-lifetime extravaganza. I finally settled for Adele, a real-life angel and lifesaver. She took care of all the details, making it a smooth and (mostly) stress-free occasion. She also happened to be Sierra's sister-in-law. Of course I didn't hire Adele solely based on Asher and Sierra's recommendation. Though Adele was only twenty-nine, she already had almost ten years of experience under her belt. Her drool-worthy portfolio and hearty testimonials from past clients finally sealed the deal.

“Bring the ice sculpture on-stage,” I heard Adele say out in the hall. “And those lilies need to be in the reception area.” We'd booked the entire Grande-Marriott Hotel for the wedding, and Adele had fifteen different runners carrying out her orders upstairs and downstairs. It was organized chaos.

I was sitting upstairs in front of a massive vanity while my makeup artist and hair stylist put on their finishing touches. My face was caked in at least three layers of foundation, powder, concealer and bronzer. Three sets of false eyelashes burdened my shadowed lids. I looked like an airbrushed doll. Marissa was curling the last section of my hair while her assistant painted my lips scarlet with a tiny brush.

I can do this. I can survive the next hour. Then I’ll be off to Bali with my new husband.

Terri and my other bridesmaids had already finished their dos and were sitting on a sofa, ooh-ing and ah-ing. They were my diehard fangirls and they were all fussing and shrieking and crying over me.

“Stop, you guys. You're making me feel nervous,” I said, fanning myself with my hand. My body felt heavy and my stomach queasy.

December sunlight streaked through the windows, warm enough to make me sweat. Why a winter wedding? Well, winters were usually mild in Northbridge, since we were on the West Coast. Both Rob and I loved snow, skating, and all things winter. A Winter Wonderland theme for our wedding seemed like the obvious choice.

So this was it. My big day. Of course I had the jitters. But they were normal jitters. Rob and I had made up yesterday and he’d apologized for coming on a bit strong. He’d soothed my nerves with his characteristic sweet-talk, and my faith in us was renewed. This was going to be a perfect day.

“You're an absolute goddess, Rach. Don’t be nervous.” Terri asked. She was standing behind me and rested a hand on my shoulder. “We'll need to take a million selfies later.” I hadn’t completely forgiven her for the Kieran incident, but I let it slide, at least, for now.

“I can barely breathe in this dress,” I croaked out. “Not sure if I'll live through the photo ops.”

I was wearing a floor-length, mermaid tail wedding gown complete with hand-sewn embroidered details and pearls running down the back. Sierra, being the fashion designer extraordinaire that she was, made the dress herself. It took her six fricking months! And it was unrivaled in its extravagance. I was lucky to have such a talented BFF.

“Who made your dress, Rach?” Sierra teased. “I must have her number. She’s clearly
very
talented.”

“Oh, she's alright,” I teased back. “Could've done a better bodice but—” I caught a flash of anger in Sierra's eyes and laughed. “You know I'm joking. This dress is perfect, and one-of-a-kind. I couldn't have asked for more.”

“I practically broke two fingers and went blind making it for you,” Sierra said. “It's my chef-d'oeuvre.”

“Sorry to correct you, but I think you mean hors d'oeuvres, and you're using the word wrong,” Callista said. “Hors d'oeuvres are—”

“You need to brush up on your French, Cally,” Sierra interrupted. “Chef-d'oeuvre means masterpiece.”

Callista's face fell. “Oh. Right.”

“All done,” Marissa announced, standing back so my bridesmaids could flock around me.

“You're going to give Rob a heart attack,” Rose squealed.

“Absolutely radiant,” Terri agreed, bringing the corner of a tissue to her eyes.

“Most beautiful bride in the room,” Callista joked with a wink.

“You guys, don't get all teary on me,” I said. “You wouldn't want me ruining two hours of makeup would you?”

Click-click-click.

I'd forgotten the photographer was in here. The five of us did a quick pose for the camera.

“Need more candid shots,” Reggie said, raising his camera again. “Just pretend I'm not even here.”

Just then, a caterwauling woman decked in layers of ruffled tulle burst in screaming, “Oh Rachelle, you look stunning!” My mother was outrageously overdressed and her mascara was already smearing. Her over-powdered face made her look like a marshmallow. She clearly had no idea how to dress or look for her eldest child’s wedding. I held back a chuckle.

“Mom!” I sprang up and moved towards her, my heavy train bogging down my progress. It was a full workout just moving around in this thing.

“No rush, no rush. Take care of the dress,” Mom said. After we hugged, Mom gave me another once-over. “Absolutely amazing. Where's Sierra? I've got to pay her my compliments.”

“Here Mrs. Wu,” Sierra said, popping out from behind Terri. “And thank you. I'm glad
someone
appreciates my effort.”

“I'm going to recommend you to everyone I know,” Mom said. “Your designs are breathtaking. Absolutely marvelous.”

Adele popped her blond head inside and said, “Ten minutes.”

“I think I'm ready,” I announced as confidently as I could. “Are you guys all ready?”

Everyone nodded.

“Let's get the show on the road then.”

“Do you need me to stay and help you?” Terri offered.

“No, I think I can handle it. I’m just going to talk to Mom for a bit. You go ahead and wait for me downstairs.”

Terri nodded and smiled. “Chin up, gorgeous. Today’s your big day. Smile!”

I pulled my lips into a hesitant smile and Terri gave me a little wave.

Everyone shuffled out the door in single file. Adele continued barking orders into her headset, her voice echoing down the hall. After all my bridesmaids headed downstairs, I was left alone with Mom.

“I'm so happy for you, Rachelle. This—all of this—I've been dreaming about this day since you were a child. The day you'd finally find your soul mate, settle down and start a family. I'm proud of you, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Don’t forget to mail out the thank-you cards…Oh and can you buy me a hand-made comb from Bali?”

“I’ll do my best, Mom.”

“Remember to smile the entire time, and keep your back straight.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Listen, I should head downstairs now but I'll see you in a bit,” Mom said. “Love you.”

I nodded. “Love you too, Mom.”

Mom blew me an air-kiss before disappearing.

I watched Marissa wash her make-up brushes with a special cleanser. Her assistant packed the curling iron back in its case. “Thanks again, Marissa. Cindy. I look amazing. You two are superstars,” I said.

“Go get 'em Rachelle,” Marissa said, grinning. “Don't forget to send me some photos after!”

“You’re a knock-out,” Cindy agreed. “Now go, they’re waiting!”

I nodded, picked up my train and made my way out the door. The ceremony space was down two flights of stairs, inside the Rose Room, a lavish ballroom Adele had transformed into my Winter Wonderland. The venue was complete with Swarovski crystal vases, ice sculptures, harpists, and massive white hydrangea centerpieces.

It would take me some time to make it down there, but I knew I sure wasn't doing it in six-inch heels. I removed my stilettos and hooked my fingers around the straps. I'd slip them back on downstairs. For a brief second, I had a flashback of when I removed my stilettos at Dalton River
. Kieran…

I dismissed the memory and stared straight ahead. Pushing my chest out and straightening my back, I moved forward in rhythmic steps.

My bridesmaids clamored downstairs. “Hurry up Rachelle,” I heard one of them hiss. “Slowpoke!”

“Coming!” I called out, reaching for the polished banister.

But before I could even take a single step, a rough hand grabbed me by the waist and pulled me back hard. I sucked in my stomach and was preparing to scream when the same hand closed over my mouth and a husky, all-too-familiar voice said, “Don't.”

What the hell?

That voice. How could I forget that buttery voice? The one that'd been swimming in and out of my daydreams for the past few days?

The hand slipped off my face and I swerved around, to the best of my ability. My tight corset squeezed my chest, making me sweat. “What the hell are you doing here?” I hissed.

“Hello to you too,” Kieran said. “You look beautiful. No, scratch that, ‘beautiful’ doesn’t do you justice. You look stunning.”

“I'm getting married in five minutes,” I said. “I don't have time for games.” My whole body was a furnace and my patience was thin. Kieran was the last person I expected to show up at my wedding.

“Trust me, Princess, this isn't a game.”

“What's going on?” I asked. I groaned as I bent down to unhook my train from a potted fern. Thank God the fabric didn’t tear or Sierra would skewer me. My chest was tight as I looked into Kieran’s hard, gray eyes.

“I'm in some trouble. I need your help,” Kieran said, resting a hand on each of my shoulders and squeezing them. “I don't know anyone else who can help me.” The heat from his palms radiated down my shoulder blades, making my breath catch.

I sighed. “Kieran, I'm getting married. Like, right now. I can't help you.”

“Please, Rachelle.”

I perked up my ears and heard one of the girls calling my name again. “They're all waiting for me,” I said, pushing away. “I can’t.” The last time I helped him, I ended up nearly catching hypothermia. I wasn’t falling for those puppy-dog eyes again. Or his dirty tricks.

“No time to explain. I need a ride out of here,” Kieran said, adjusting the strap of his duffle bag. He looked like he’d packed for a long road-trip. In a hurry too, judging by his disheveled appearance. Clearly, he wasn’t here to wish me a happy marriage.

“Loan me your car?” he asked.

“I came here in a limo,” I said. “And what exactly is going on? Can't it wait until after the wedding? This is—”

“It can't wait another second,” Kieran said. “I need to skip town. Now.” He was wearing a wrinkled t-shirt with hole-ridden jeans. A week’s worth of beard covered his pale face. Unkempt, scruffy and panicky.

My face sank and my head spun. “What the hell did you do, Kieran?”

“Just take me to the limo,” Kieran said.

I stood up straighter. “Not until you tell me what's going on.”

Kieran's hand dipped into his jacket pocket and he withdrew something black and shiny. A gun. He pointed the muzzle at me. “Take me there. Now.” His gray eyes had turned to stone and beads of sweat rolled down his jaw. His hand was trembling.

I swallowed hard and nodded. “Okay, Kieran, okay. Just calm down. I'll take you. Put away the gun.”

I started walking down the stairs and Kieran followed. The naked soles of my feet met the cool stairs one at a time.
Breathe, Rachelle.
Although the gun was hidden in Kieran’s pocket, his right hand remained clasped over it.

Why was he here? Why did he have a gun? And why the hell was it pointed at me?

At the bottom of the stairs, I saw my bridesmaids waiting by the exit sign. They were laughing and waving at me. My heart beat wildly as I tried to assess my options.

“What the hell took so long, Rachelle? We're already four minutes behind schedule,” Adele barked. “Hurry up Rose, you should get going. Mickey’s waiting.”

“Sorry, I uh—just bumped into—uh an old friend,” I explained, glancing at the scruffy man beside me.

Terri looked up and saw Kieran. She arched her brow at me. “What's
he
doing here?”

“It's complicated,” I said. “Anyway, you guys go ahead. I have to go to the bathroom real quick. Be back in a minute, I promise,” I lied, hoping they’d buy my excuse.

Adele looked like there was a firecracker lit under her ass. Her eyes bulged. “No time to pee, we're late!”

“Thirty seconds. I really have to go,” I begged. “Please.”

“Fine, but seriously, no more than a minute,” Adele warned.

“Thanks, Adele.”

I waited until Adele and the bridesmaids had disappeared before making my way to the other exit down the hall.

One step, two. Two steps, three.

My picture-perfect wedding was slipping farther and farther away.

I heard the string quartet playing ‘Here Comes the Bride’ as the hotel doors shut behind me. Once Kieran and I were outside, at the opposite end of the building, I pointed to the black limo parked on the curb. “There, happy now?”

“Tell the driver to let me in,” Kieran said.

“He'll ask questions,” I said.

“Just do it.”

I walked around to the driver's side and knocked on the window. The driver lowered it. “I wasn't expecting you to finish early,” he said, putting down his newspaper.

“We uh—we haven't started yet,” I explained. “Thing is, my friend here really needs a ride. Can you drive him wherever he needs to go?”