Chapter 1
Blaire
What is the normal amount of ass jiggle while running?
The question haunted me as I pushed myself past mile one and onto mile two. It was born from an age-old insecurity of being bullied for having curves. Even though I had spent the better part of a decade eradicating the baby fat that hung onto my hips and thighs, the worry still lingered.
The time of believing I was fat was over, but the recollection of past insults remained like splinters in weather-worn wood: ever so often the memories would prick me.
Sweat dripped down into my sports bra in an uncomfortably ticklish dribble that made me know without a shadow of a doubt I would have a distinct boob sweat stain on my tank top by the time I was done with my self-mandated torture.
With every strike of my foot I could feel the literal ripple of my butt, and I focused on that instead of the burning in my lungs. I hoped no one was running behind me to witness it.
I was already half complete with my run. It would be more work to turn around, so I trudged forward. I counted my steps and tried to clear my mind from the hamster wheel of thoughts that rolled through my anxious brain.
Perspiration dotted my sunglasses as I jogged in place waiting for the crosswalk to chirp in invitation to move onward towards my humble abode in the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains.
Right as the crosswalk flashed to go, I felt a shoulder check into me followed by a frantic, “Sorry”.
I blinked at the offender, my annoyance drained when I saw her wedding dress train billowing behind a bride running away from the large Cathedral. The veil was still covering her face as she glanced over her shoulder. I could tell from her frantic pace, hiked dress, and bare feet that this woman was desperate to get away.
I picked up the pace to follow. “Hey, are you okay?” I yelled after her.
She glanced over her shoulder again and shook her head.
“Do you need a place to lay low?” I caught up to her slower pace. Her eyes widened as she nodded.
“Follow me.” I directed her to turn down my street. The faint yelling of “Jessica…” caused the bride to curse and glance behind her.
“Cheating son of a bitch,” she huffed between breaths. I could see my house at the end of the street. The thought that I was being too trusting by inviting a stranger into my home flickered. She didn’t look like she could physically hurt me, but what if this was all a ruse to steal my identity? It would be elaborate, but not unheard of. And then I thought of the desperation in her gate and decided that if I were ever in her situation, I would want to have someone look out for me.
“The house on the left with the red door.” I dug into my lycra pocket for my house key. My door flung open, and I pulled the bride inside, slamming it shut.
Her hands were on her knees as she gasped for breath. She ripped her veil off her head, tossing it to the ground. The lightweight mesh floated lazily to the hardwood floor into an elegant pile. Several pieces of icy blonde were pulled out of her fancy updo from the violet rejection of the lace and mesh.
She rubbed her face as her shoulders bounced in sobs. I backed away, placed my sunglasses and hat on the island and grabbed water from the fridge. I tapped her arm with the cold bottle. She jerked at the temperature before dropping her hands from her face with a whimper. She had black mascara running down her cheeks, her red lipstick was smeared from chin to cheek.
“You!”
I cocked my head in confusion. There was something familiar about her voice, but I could not place it.
“Of course, it had to be you of all people to see me at my worst!”
All at once her voice registered in my brain. I didn’t let an unhinged criminal into my home, I brought in a malicious wench. My high school bully, the reason for my insecurities, was standing in my kitchen with makeup dripping from her chin in a Vera Wang dress.
I bit back the tug of karmic retribution that she looked like a literal clown and took a deep breath. No matter how awful Jessica Berry was to me in high school, I would not turn away a woman who ran from her wedding.
“Long time no see, Jess,” I said awkwardly.
She grit her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. I watched curiously as she counted to ten. She took a deep breath, composing her face to less of a sneer before tipping her chin up. “May I use your bathroom?”
I wondered if she had to dig that deep to be nice to me. It may have been ten years ago, but I still remember every prank and nasty word she uttered in my direction. I nodded at her, pointing to the small hallway off the living room.
“That door over there.” I took a deep breath and swallowed the knot in my throat. “There is a shower with face wash and soap if you need. I can grab you a pair of sweats to change into, if you would like.”
She scoffed. “Your clothes would drown me.”
My jaw clenched at her tone.
She winced at her own words and swallowed before nodding. “Sorry, that was uncalled for.”
Twitching bounced my eyelid. “There are fresh towels under the sink. The bathroom connects to the guest bedroom. I can put a change of clothes in there.”
I turned to walk into my own bedroom suite to get away from her and collect my thoughts. “Your clothes would drown me,” I mocked in a pitchy tone.
Still a bitch, I see.
Though, if I had to run away from my wedding, I doubt I would be pleasant to anyone.
I rummaged through my drawers to grab a pair of sweat pants and t-shirt. She looked the same as she did back in high school, though her hair was no longer honey blonde. She was still thin, but not the waif she was when she was the captain of the cheerleading squad.
While she had gained a healthy ten pounds, I had lost around twenty pounds. My mother told me that it was a little bit of baby fat that made me look angelic. Except it was more pudgy cherub than celestial. The last time I saw Jess, I had frizzy hair and braces. It wasn’t until I was twenty that I learned that my frizz was from my hair being wavy, not straight and poofy. At twenty-eight I was a healthy weight, straight teeth, with controlled hair.
I walked over to the guest bedroom and placed the offered clothes on the bed. She was sobbing, the shower did nothing to cover her distress.
While I wanted to relish in her misery, I couldn’t. I had been working with a therapist for a few years and while confronting Jess in her mistreatment of me would be therapeutic, today was not the day for that conversation.
I stalked back into my room, taking my own shower, and dressing in loose shorts and a baggie t-shirt. Ruthie, my best friend since grade school, needed to know what was going on. I checked the time to see if she’d be awake since she worked third shift at a hospital. Then I remembered it was her day off.
Me: You will never EVER believe who is taking a shower in my guest bedroom right now.
Ruthie: Don’t tell me you hooked up with your Hinge.
Me: Eww no, that guy used a picture that was at least fifteen years old and he lied about his height. Either that or my perceptionof what 6’2” looks like is closer to 5’5”. He also lied about his job. He said he worked in banking, but then told me on the date that what he meant was and I quote, he ‘was banking on marrying me.’
Ruthie; Noooooo, what did you say to that?
Me: Well, being the curious person I am, mostly because I am nosey, I pried. Apparently he lives with his parents. Which honestly I don’t care, in this day and age, whatever. but he kept referring to them as his roommates until he slipped up and mentioned his mom accidentally dying one of his socks pink. Which prompted more questions until he admitted that his mom still does his laundry. Which you know, red flag. This dude is looking for someone to wipe his ass and tell him he’s a good boy. That’s just not my kink.
Ruthie: OMG, what did you do? Please tell me you excused yourself to go to the bathroom and ditched him!
Me: Trust me, the urge to ghost was strong with that one, but no. I ordered, paid for both meals and politely told him that I did not feel like we were a match.
Ruthie: You are too nice for your own good sometimes. At least there was no drama.
Me: Yeah, I didn’t say he took my let down well. Which for the record, he didn’t. He started crying kept repeating that we are ‘such a good match.’ Making an embarrassing scene. My poor server kept cringing at me. When that obviously didn’t change my mind,he stood up, walked behind the bar, swiped a bottle of wine and stormed out of the restaurant. Then I proceeded to get text messages from his mother praising what a wonderful man he is, and they will forgive me for my judgement if I agree to another date.
Ruthie: NO!
Me: Oh yes. He had good taste in wine, at least. I settled with the bartender and apologized. The manager only charged me what they paid for the bottle after the bartender and my server told her what an unhinged person my date had become. She then gave me a piece of cake on the house and the (very sexy) bartender gave me his number.
Ruthie: So you’ve got a sexed up drink slinger in your shower?
I paused, confused about what she was talking about until I heard the television in my living room turn on. Oh my god, my tangent completely derailed my train of thought.
Me: I wish. No and I will just tell you because you are never in a million years going to guess. Jessica Berry. Yes, THAT Jessica. And it’s a long story that I have not gotten the full details from, but she is literally a runaway bride that I rescued during my run.
Ruthie: What the literal fuck?
Me: Yeah, I know. But listen, she is watching tv now, so I need to be a good host.
Ruthie: You did not just drop the mother of all bombs and then say you have to go. I expect all the details and if I don’t hear from you in two hours, I am coming over!
I chuckled while pocketing my phone. Ruthie witnessed all of Jessica’s cruelty and while none of it was ever directed at her, she sympathized with me.
Jess looked more human with a clean face. Her eyes were still red-rimmed and puffy, but at least she didn’t look like an unhinged clown anymore. I cleared my throat and sat down on the side of my sectional leather sofa. Jess’s eyes flicked in my direction and she muted the tv.
“So,” I started.
She closed her eyes and rubbed her face. “If you want to rehash our rivalry, I’m going to need a minute.”
I snorted and shook my head. I would not describe our past transgressions as a rivalry. “While, I would love to have some closure from that part of my life, it is not important right now.” I sighed when she gave me an incredulous look. I bit into my cheek and continued. “Is there anyone you need to call?”
She frowned. “I don’t have a single phone number memorized and my stupid phone is in the bride’s room.”
I nodded and tapped my chin. “The Catholic church on Grand?” I asked.
Her eyes looked past me before flicking down to her lap. “Yeah.”
“Okay, here’s the deal. I am sure you want to lay low for a few more hours and collect your thoughts. I know the office manager of the church, let me give her a call and see if she will let me in the bride’s room. I can go get your things.” I stood up and grabbed my keys.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” she croaked.
I frowned. “You didn’t give me a reason to be mean to you today.”
Her eyes glistened with tears again, but she blinked rapidly to dispel them away.
“Take a nap, watch tv, relax, read. I have a great book signed by an author friend of mine. She wrote ‘The Science of Heartbreak’. It may help you, I don’t know. I will be back in a little bit. Help yourself to anything in the fridge.”
I stepped out of the door before she could respond. My level of generosity was a surprise to me, but I knew it would wane the moment a snarky comment ripped from her mouth. I pulled my phone from my pocket when I was in my car and called Ruthie’s mom, the office manager of the church. She answered on the fourth ring.
“Blaire, honey, now is not a good time. I have a runaway bride and a frantic family I am dealing with right now.” I could hear loud voices in the background.
“Hey Mama T, yeah, about that. So, I kind of have the bride at my house. She was running away on my jogging route and it turns out…”
“Oh honey, I didn’t tell you that Jessica Berry was getting married in my church today because I didn’t want to upset you. I know you two had a challenging relationship in high school.”
I sighed. Mama T knew exactly what I had gone through in high school. I spent many hours crying at her dining room table, devastated after being victimized by Jess. “No worries, mama. It was in the past, and it looked like she needed some grace today.”
She chuckled into the phone, “You could say that. Poor girl had some guy object to the marriage, and this young man asked all the wedding guests to ‘please stand if you have slept with Damien’, the groom, while he was with Jessica. Oh honey, four girls stood up and then a bridesmaid stepped forward. Jessica grabbed her heels, threw one at Damien, popped him right in the nose and the other at the bridesmaid before she ran like a bat out of hell.”
That explains her missing shoes.
“That’s terrible, but listen Mama T, like I said, Jessica is at my house.”
“Wait, what? You have her!” I could hear the relief in her voice and then the unmistakable noise of a phone fumbling around.
“Jess! Where the hell did you go? Mom is freaking out, Damien has a broken nose and was taken to the hospital by dad.”
My breath caught in my throat and I gulped. I hadn’t heard Jessica’s twin’s voice in a decade but I knew the deep baritone timber that was Oliver Berry. Many a night I had dreamed that he would notice me.
“Uhhhh, I am not Jessica,” I said slowly.
While I knew ultimately Jess would want Oli to know where she was, I was not going to make that decision for her. “Can you give Theresa her phone back?” I squeaked and cleared my throat. I was pulling into the church parking lot. It still had a fair few cars parked, and people milling around the front entrance.
“I thought you said you had her?” Oli’s tone was exasperated.
I cleared my throat. “Uhhh, I really need to talk to Theresa.”
The phone fumbled again before Mama T spoke. Her heels clacked down on the tile as voices got quieter.
“Blaire,” she hissed into the phone.
“Still here Mama. Can you meet me at the side entrance by your office? I parked. I need to get Jessica’s things from the bride’s room.”
“Of course honey, but be warned there are a lot of people here that may know you,” she whispered.
I cursed to myself. Now was not the time to be recognized by my high school elite. They would definitely know I was not invited to the nuptials. I mashed my nephew’s baseball hat on my head, shoving my hair into it and grabbing my sunglasses for good measure.
I looked around the parking lot before jogging over to the side door where Theresa was waving to me.
“Is that Parker’s hat?” she hissed at me.
I gave her an exasperated nod.
“It’s too small for your head.” She pointed at it. “It looks like a billed yamaka.”
“I know Mama, very few four year olds have adult sized heads, I needed a disguise!”
She hummed and grabbed my elbow, tugging me into the hallway. A set of keys was pressed into my hand. “The bride’s room is locked, it’s the second door on the left.”
I nodded and headed in that direction. I slipped into the room and cringed at the mess. Her clothes and makeup were strewn about the room. I flipped the lock and started gathering all her belongings. She had expensive taste in makeup. I frowned that we had the same brands. I may not have wanted to rehash our past, but I did not like that we shared a commonality.
I shouldn’t have been surprised by the luxury brand tote I was shoving her designer clothes into. She grew up wealthy and had everything a girl could have wanted. And while my family was not poor, it was not the overt rich she was born into.
I enjoyed thrift shopping. Which would not have been an issue if I had not bought her mom’s old shirt. Jessica recognized it immediately and made fun of me for a week for being so poor I needed to shop where “the homeless shopped.”
I picked up an expensive pair of running shoes and growled that they matched mine exactly. I huffed my annoyance.
The chatter of the latent wedding guests calling Jessica’s name and animated voices in the hallway made me move faster. I texted Mama T to ask her to tell me when the coast was clear.
Mama T: I’m stalling honey, but Oliver Berry is adamant about getting in there. We are heading your way now.
I cursed and grit my teeth. The open window looked like my only escape. I slung Jessica’s tote over my shoulder and assessed the window screen.
“I have a few keys I may have to try before I find the right one,” Mama T’s voice muffled through the door.
The screen groaned and popped before landing in the holly bushes. I glanced around the room and spotted Jessica’s phone on the chaise lounge.
Keys continued to jingle as I grabbed the cell and ran back over to the window. My pockets were full of my own phone and keys. I shoved Jessica’s phone into my cleavage, squishing it into my sports bra. I was swinging my leg over into the holly when I heard the door creak open.
“What the hell?” Oli yelled as I landed ungracefully with an oof.
I scrambled to my feet, grabbed Jess’s bag, and dashed to the parking lot.
Oli climbed out of the window and chased after me. I squeaked when he leapt over the bush and flat out ran in my direction. His dress shoes slipped on the grass as he barrelled towards me, his tie flying behind his shoulder. I needed to pick up the pace if I didn’t want him to catch me. He had played college baseball at Oregon and rumor had it, scouts wanted to draft him, but he opted out to pursue a different career.
I flung my door open and threw my car in drive as Oli caught up to me. I cringed as he smacked my window and tried to tug my door open.
“Open the door. I want to know where my sister is.”
I awkwardly waved and peeled out of the parking lot. He chased my car for a few blocks. I could still see him behind me before I turned onto my street. I smashed my garage button and slammed on my breaks. Smacking the button again to close it.
I had run on my street quite a few times since I had moved in four months ago. I knew it took two minutes to jog, so I had probably a minute before he sprinted past my yard. I peered out of the garage window, watching as Oli ran past my house and paused at the corner. He looked at the intersection and yelled, “Fuck,” as he ran his hand through his brown wavy hair. He pulled his phone out of his suit pants.
My heart was pounding against my ribcage. I backed away slowly from the window, not wanting Oli to notice me. A loud metallic tune filled my garage as I fumbled with the phone that was vibrating against my boob.
“Shit.” I silenced the call after seeing Oli’s face flash across the screen. A relieved breath puffed out that he was too far away to hear the ringtone, and I opened the passenger door, retrieving the designer tote.
Jessica was sleeping on the couch, a bottle of wine still cradled against her chest, recommended book spine up on the table. I squinted at the wine and scoffed when I saw the $150 bottle, uncorked, and no sign of a glass in sight.
I guess I did tell her to help herself to anything in the fridge. I didn’t expect her to select my wine fridge to express my generosity. I gingerly pulled the bottle from her grasp and frowned, it was nearly empty. I didn’t envy her hangover, that was for sure. I poured the last half ounce into the sink and rinsed the bottle, prepping it for recycling.
Jessica snored lightly on the couch. I placed her bag in the guest bedroom and slipped her phone on the coffee table next to her. It dinged with an incoming text. I wasn’t trying to snoop, but honestly I was doing her a solid and I was feeling nosey.
Mom: Jessica Rae Berry, I cannot believe you embarrassed me in this way! I just got off the phone with your father. Damien’s nose is broken. Your father is paying a top plastic surgeon to come out and fix your mistake. When he is all healed we expect you to apologize to him for overreacting and we will plan a simple destination wedding.
I scoffed and rolled my eyes. Not my monkey, not my circus. While I couldn’t fathom my mother demanding that I marry a cheating bastard, I should not get any more involved than I already was. Jessica’s phone dinged again.
Oli: Jesssssssss, I am getting seriously worried. Did you hire a small teenage boy to get your things from the bride’s room? If so, that is fucked up! That little shit could run too. I think he stole his mom’s BMW because that was his getaway vehicle. Please text me back. If I don’t hear from you in thirty minutes I am taking matters into my own hands.
I huffed an annoyed breath. I was not shaped like a little teenage boy! I looked down at my outfit and cringed. Okay perhaps he had a point. The basketball shorts I had stolen from my ex, hung loosely on my hips and the t-shirt was an old Kentucky Wildcats t-shirt I thrifted.
This particular gem had the logo designed where it looked like there was a dick in the wildcat’s mouth. The artist that designed the logo hid that Easter egg in retaliation for being bullied on the UK campus for being gay.
My head itched when I realized I still had my hair smushed into a little boy’s hat. I tossed the baseball cap to the coffee table and fluffed my waves. I was startled when my phone vibrated against my thigh. Ruthie was calling.
I slipped out of the living room and back into my bedroom.
“Hey,” I whispered into my cell.
Ruthie immediately started cackling. “I just got off the phone with my mom. Please tell me you did actually fall in the bushes and proceeded to be chased by the Oliver Berry,” she squealed into the receiver between huffs of laughter.
I chuckled. “Yes, that is an accurate description of what my past two hours have looked like.”
Ruthie made a thoughtful noise. “Mom told me about the ceremony. I know she was totally an epic bitch in high school, but…” She let the sentence hang.
“Yeah I know.” I sighed and rubbed my face. “Listen, I am not going to dredge up past hurts today. I have someone who went through some shit passed out on my couch after she drank a $150 bottle of wine.”
Ruthie let out a nervous laugh, “I’ll let you tend to your ward.”
I chortled and ended the call.
A stinging pain made me glance down at my legs. There was a scrape down one shin with a trickle of blood. The back of my calves had a fine dusting of dirt. My shirt also was smeared in dirt.
I didn’t know where my altruism was coming from. I took a cleansing breath, headed to the bathroom, and flicked the water back on.
My shower was quick. Perhaps I was self-conscious over Oli’s observation that I looked like a small teenage boy, so I selected a pair of fitted yoga pants and a loose cropped top. I frowned when I saw that Jess was still snoring on the couch, but she had flipped to her side, knees tucked into her stomach. She needs to eat.
Nothing in the fridge seemed remotely appetizing. I was going to wake Jess up to see what she wanted but then I remembered when we were friends in middle school. I took a chance and ordered pizza how she used to like it.
It was so long ago that we were actually friends. Not the best friends that Ruthie and I were and still are, but we would have sleepovers. I would go over to her house or her to mine every few weeks. From sixth to eighth grade I considered us really good friends. Then freshman year she started to hate me. She spread rumors about me. She made fun of me. The sad thing about being close friends in middle school meant she knew all my insecurities and used it against me.
I sat on the sofa, snuggled under a blanket, and started reading a book Ruthie had recommended. Jessica snorted in her sleep as I giggled at the romcom.
There was a quick rap on the door. I glanced over to Jessica who was dead to the world and made my way over to get our pizza delivery. It was not the awkward, lanky teenage son of Gino’s Pizza, who normally delivered my food. I blinked in surprise. “Oliver?”
