As I removed the wedding dress, my fingers shook. I didn't bother to hang it up again, just left it on the floor as I stuffed myself back into my clothes and hurried into the boutique, regret and anger warring in my chest, though why or at whom I was angry was a mystery.
I left the store because Luke wasn't there. Cole was waiting to let me into the car, which was a relief. I climbed in after he opened the door.
My fiance sat still and watched passing automobiles.
I mumbled. “Sorry, Luke, I...didn't know...”
He glared at me.
I found his ambiguous indifference scarier than fury.
He said, “We're heading to your place.”
“You'll buy supplies. Another outfit. Medications. Whatever.”
”What?”
“ We'll marry in England.”
I stuttering. I assumed we'd get married here. Were friends and relatives invited?
My brain babbled. That terrible.
“I want to marry you,” he said. “I have a strip penthouse with no wait.”
I watched as he drove off. “Right?”