Don't Kiss the Bride

“Thank you,” she says softly. “You’re amazing.”

“I’m not amazing, Sparkles. Just trying to be a good guy.”

She hugs me tighter. “You are. You’re the best ever.”

I wasn’t expecting tears and hugs.

I also wasn’t expecting to put my arms around her and hug her back.

Chapter 11

Skylar

I’ve been in a haze since I saw Jude yesterday.

Marriage.

An arranged marriage.

To an older man I barely know, while I’m a senior in high school.

I’ve seen movies about this—marriages of convenience.

On-paper-only marriages.

In the movies, it usually turns out all cheesy romantic, with the couple falling in love and living happily ever after. That’s not going to happen to us, though. My eyes are firmly on the prize—my dream RV and exploring the world with Gus.

I wish I could tell Megan about this and get some advice, but the fear of her telling me it’s the stupidest thing she’s ever heard is stopping me. Or she might tell Erik, and he might tell someone else, and soon the entire school would know.

As always, I’m on my own, except now I’m trying to make one of the biggest decisions of my life.

I sit on the floor with Gus, who listens intently with her bright-green eyes fixed on me.

“It could be a disaster,” I say. “We’d be living in a house with a man we hardly know. He could be a psycho. He might lock us up in the basement and force me to have babies. Or he could starve us to death, and no one would ever even know we were dead. He’d just tell everyone we stole some of his money and ran away.”

The cat’s whiskers bend forward, and she paws at my arm, wanting to be petted.

“Or maybe he really is just a nice guy. We could live in a clean house and learn to eat good food. We could actually use the front door. And have a real bathroom. I could save money for our RV, and a year from now, we’d be living our best life.” I slowly scratch the cat’s head and rub her cheeks. “All we have to do is trust him. He’s been nice so far, right? He hasn’t done or said anything creepy. He goes to work every day. And he calls me Sparkles, Gus.”

Sighing, I look around my sparse room. At the closet where me and my cat have litter boxes. At the door with the three deadbolts.

This isn’t a home. It’s a prison.

I’m eighteen now—a legal adult. Responsible for making my own life decisions—whether they’re right or wrong.

Jude is offering me a way out, and I’d be an idiot to say no. Marrying him and accepting his help could change my entire future.

I remind myself it’s not a real marriage. Not a real wedding. It’s nothing but a piece of paper that’ll get me out of this place and allow me to take care of myself the way I’m supposed to.

“You don’t have to call him Daddy, Gus. It’s not like that. I’m sure his dog will be nice to you. You might like having a furry friend to hang out with.”

The cat curls up next to me, apparently satisfied with our conversation.

I pick up my cell phone and press Jude’s number.

“Hey,” he greets.

“Hi…” I twirl my hair nervously around my finger. “I’ve been thinking about your proposal.”

“Let’s call it an arrangement, okay?”

“Arrangement,” I correct. “I was wondering if I could come over and see your house first?”

“Uh, sure. I should’ve offered that first. I wasn’t thinking—”

“It’s okay. I only just thought of it myself.”

“I just finished working out. I need to take a shower, so come around four?”

“Sounds good.”

“You can bring your friend if you want,” he offers. “If it’ll make you feel more comfortable.”

“I think I’d rather come alone. But thank you.”

“I’ll text you my address.”

Seconds later, the text comes through and I smile at the address. Winterberry Road. It sounds whimsical and safe.

“Wish me luck,” I say to Gus after I’ve put on a little makeup, a Doors sweatshirt, jeans, and black high-top sneakers.

Using the GPS on my phone for directions, I drive across town to a rural area I’m unfamiliar with. Winterberry Road is a wooded, winding side road branching off an equally winding side road. The houses are set back from the road and spaced far apart—nothing like the boring cookie-cutter houses on my street that are practically on top of each other. Jude’s mailbox is visible long before his house is, and I stare at it, making sure I have the right address before I pull into the long gravel driveway.

My heart starts to beat faster as I pull up to the house. I sip from my water bottle and open the window for fresh air, hoping to ground myself. I want to appear calm, mature, and levelheaded, even if I’m freaking out on the inside.