“Be sure not to trip.”
She stared, unsure what to say. She’d known there would be no speech about protecting herself or how much he loved her. She wasn’t an idiot.
But this? It was so far out of left field
She nodded, not sure what else to do, but the burden of response was lifted from her as the doors opened in front of them and the bridal march began.
She'd dreamed of this moment since she was a little girl. The organs sounding, the people turning to watch her walk down the aisle gracefully alongside her father. Of course, back in those days she'd thought Justin Timberlake would be waiting for her at the alter, but the general feeling of it was still there.
The anticipation. The sheer adrenaline.
But clouding all of it?
Was the undeniable understanding that something was deeply, horribly wrong.
Sure, it was the church and the dresses and the songs she wanted. It was even the man she wanted standing there waiting for her.
But at what cost?
When she got to the alter and her father lifted her veil from overhead, Garret practically rushed to take her hand.
"I have to tell you something."
The minister was speaking to the crowd, extolling the virtues of love. Her sister was standing up there, tall and proud and beautiful.
"I can't do this." Her words had been mumbled. She knew that much, and based on the way Garret's eyebrows were scrunched together, she could tell he hadn't heard her.
Still, she had to repeat herself. She had to stop this before it was too late. Before they signed on for something over both of their heads.
"I want to tell you that I've been thinking about our deal."
She shook her head. Why couldn't she speak? Why couldn't she freaking move her lips? It was like she was in a lake with rocks tied to her heels and she was sinking slowly, watching everything around her get wavier and darker as she descended.
"I can't." She managed the words clearly this time, and hoped that it might be enough.
"What do you mean? I wanted to tell you I've been thinking and—"
"I can't do this." The words came out so loudly that the minister stopped speaking all together. She turned to find the entire congregation staring at her, a sea of women and men with more plastic than water in their bodies and more money than God himself.
"I can't do this. I'm so, so sorry. Eliza, I—" She glanced from her sister to Garret. He reached for her but she stepped away. If she let him talk, she'd go through with it. She wouldn't be able to leave.
And she couldn't allow that.
She needed to go.
Needed to stand up for herself. If only for this one tiny moment.
"Rachael, dear," her mother stood from the first pew, her dusky curls hidden today by an overlarge hat. What wasn't hidden was the malice in her eyes or the dull threat behind her sugar-sweet tone. "I think you've just got a touch of cold feet. Why don't you take a moment and we can all start again?" She smiled at the woman around her, all members of the bridge club or the tennis club or whatever hoity-toity Philadelphia society had deemed to come.
In that moment, Rachael knew she'd made the right decision.
"I've got to go. I can't do this. I can't." She stepped down from the pulpit and walked past one pew after the other. A part of her knew that Garret was calling to her. And then, after a heartbeat, she could hear his heavy footfalls after hers.
Which was when she broke into a run.
This time, though, when she ran, she had no idea where to go. With Lance, she could run to work. With her mother, she ran to her sister.
But now?