Chasing the Runaway Bride (Bliss Series Book 3)

by Michelle Jo Quinn

  “You weren’t out here all night, were you, Daddy?” I wiped the tears and snot off my face, and off my father’s shirt.

  With an arm over my shoulder, we walked to my door. “Not the whole night, no. Your mother agreed to let me back into the hotel around one in the morning, and Danny took over.” My body tensed when his name was mentioned. Daddy felt it and squeezed my shoulder. “I came back around six and sent him back to get some rest.”

  A number of things rolled through my mind as I unlocked my door. I understood why my parents came. I was their daughter after all. But Danny? What was he expecting? I still couldn’t figure out why he’d kissed me like that. It was a lover’s kiss. The biggest question, perhaps, was why I’d quivered under his touch. Did heart muscle memory exist?

  “I’ll make you some coffee. You still take it with cream, no sugar?” I threw my keys in the bowl by the door and hung my jacket.

  Daddy nodded. His eyes travelled all over my apartment. “This is some place, Nugget.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I would never think to paint the walls black.”

  I led him past the living room and all the way to the kitchen, where it was sunnier and less oppressive.

  He stopped at the threshold. “Nugget, I could use the little boys’ room.”

  “Oh, yeah. Down the hallway, first door on the left.” He hesitated before he turned. I wanted to assure him I wouldn’t be running away from my own apartment, but he was gone before I could formulate a good enough sentence.

  I let the coffee percolate, and went to my bedroom to change. It was disheartening to see myself in the mirror with Alex’s shirt. I slipped it off and pressed it to my nose. It didn’t smell like me. It was all Alex. I wasn’t one to keep mementos, but it would be a hell of a battle if he asked for the shirt back.

  This morning, as the sun filtered through the white chiffon curtains, I had woken up with him wrapped around me. He was like a serpent coiled around its prey. I had fallen into his trap…or had he fallen into mine?

  I hurriedly dressed and tied my hair up when I heard my father open the hallway bathroom door. We had a lot to talk about. I doubted he’d leave here without some of his questions answered.

  The smell of coffee filled the kitchen. Daddy stood in front of the large picture window that faced my tiny backyard.

  “You want something to eat? I think I have bread. I don’t keep a lot of food here. I tend to eat out.” My nerves were a jumble. The bell-like clanging of the pot against the lips of our coffee mugs made me twitch.

  “Coffee’s good for now. Knowing your mother, she expects me to eat breakfast with her as soon as I report back.” My father sat on one of the barstools at my kitchen island, and I settled on the other, passing a cup to him. He sniffed the steaming liquid and sighed. “Nothing like a freshly brewed coffee to start the morning, eh, Nugget?”

  I couldn’t help it. I burst into tears again, covering my face with my hands. I’d missed precious moments like this since leaving home. With my eyes closed, I could almost imagine being back in Vermont, sitting in our sun-filled chef’s kitchen, having maple syrup-soaked pancakes and crispy bacon with Daddy. We would snicker and mutter secrets to each other before my mother came down the stairs and forced us to start our day.

  “I’m sorry I left, Daddy.” I shook my head, and my father pulled me back into his arms, kissing the top of my head.

  “Now, now, Nugget. We understand why you left. The whole situation was too much to handle for someone as young as you. But I do wish you’d come to me, at least, before you ran off.”

  Yeah, like it would have made me feel better. But he had a point. I went to him for everything. Some girls prefer talking to their mothers, but not me. My father was one of my best friends.

  I straightened, and in a most unladylike manner, wiped my snotty nose on my shirt sleeve. If my mother had been with us, she would’ve had a heart attack. I’d warned her no amount of finishing school would turn me into a proper lady, but it hadn’t stopped her from trying. “I’m pretty sure Mom blames me for ruining everything.”

  “Has anyone said you ruined anything at all?”

  My bottom lip quivered as I pouted. “Not out loud, but I know what Mom’s probably thinking. She had everything laid out for me, and I left.” It was true. My mother had wanted to show me a promising future. She’d even picked names for the children—two boys, one girl—I would supposedly have. I’d gone along with it all. For one, she would’ve made my life even more miserable if I hadn’t. Two, she would’ve turned my father’s life upside down, since she’d always been convinced he and I conspired against her. And three, once upon a time, I’d been truly in love with a boy named Danny.

  Just thinking about him caused a sharp, acute pain in my heart. “And Danny?” It was all I could ask, while I rubbed the part of my chest where my thumping heart lay.

  His eyes flitted to the cup. He licked his lips before lifting it and taking a sip. I knew he understood my question. His forehead furrowed into the deep grooves of a man who’d spent hours upon hours under the hot sun. “That boy is special, I tell yah.” He took another sip. Maybe he was buying time. Maybe he was contemplating on his next few words. But once he turned to me, and I heard his answer, I almost fell off my chair. “Danny still loves you, Nugget. That’s why he’s here.”

  To think, after a decade, after leaving him cold and not a note in sight, Danny still loved me. Was that even possible? Insane came to mind. But it was classic Danny. If there ever was a person who’d forgive and forget, and had the ability to love continuously, it was Danny.

  “It’s been years, Daddy,” I muttered to myself more than to my father, looking down at the dark liquid in my cup. From the corner of my eye, I saw Daddy nod. What did this mean? Would Danny expect me to return to him, with him, to Vermont? What would happen to the life I’d built in this city? How would I cope without my friends? Without Nica? And what about Alex?

  What Alex and I’d had the night before was something cerebral. Not to mention our hard-to-ignore physical attraction. He hadn’t directly asked me to have a relationship with him, not in so many words, and not for a while. We’d been having a blast with our secret rendezvous. He’d been consistent with asking me out for dinner, and I had either declined or brushed his invitations aside. But what had he really been asking me? Was it just dinner? Or something more? Dinner could be more intimate than sex. It meant talks and laughter and sharing. And being in public together.

  My thoughts were interrupted by a loud ringing in the small space. I’d left my phone in my bedroom, and hadn’t turned it on since yesterday, so it couldn’t be mine. My father searched his pockets and produced a sleek, most likely rarely used, smartphone. He leaned his head back slightly, and squinted at his screen. After ignoring the call, he left it sitting on the counter.

  “A cellphone?” I asked, and lifted an eyebrow. Daddy was anti-technology. He subscribed to the idea that it had harmful effects on our bodies.

  “Your mother insisted I carry one at all times. That was her calling. She checks on me every hour, on the hour.” He calmly sipped his coffee.

  “Do you think it’s a good idea to ignore her call?” As I pressed the cup to my lips, I let a little smile spread on my face.

  “She’ll be fine. If I picked up I’d have to let her know that you’ve come home. If I don’t answer, she’ll think I’ve fallen asleep again.” Daddy nudged me on the side, which reminded me even more of our mornings together when I was younger. “I will have to go back soon, though. Will you come with me, Nugget?”

  I wasn’t ready. “I’m not sure.”

  “Would you at least talk to Danny?”

  Now, there was a question I was afraid to answer. “I’m not sure,” I repeated. “What would I even say? What would he say?”

  “You’re both adults. You’ll figure it out.”

  “What if he asks me about that day?”

  “Then tell him the truth.” My
father emptied his cup before standing. He nudged a knuckle under my chin and kissed my forehead. “I think it’s time you stop running, Nugget.”

  His words exploded in my head. I felt numb as I remembered Alex asking me to stop running months ago. “I have a lot to think about.”

  “Yes, you do. I’d better get back before your mother worries and calls the Army.” He placed a card on the counter beside my cup and picked up his cellphone. “That’s where we’re all staying, and my cellphone number is on the front. Walk me to the door, will yah?”

  “Yes, Sir.” I hooked my hand in the crook of his elbow, and leaned my head on his upper arm. “How did you find me?”

  “Your mother saw a magazine article when she was getting her hair done at Savannah’s Salon.” I giggled, imagining my mother as a 1920’s Hollywood actress, resting the back of her hand over her forehead and falling gracefully onto a fainting couch.

  “Mom came in for our services. Was it even real? Is there a party?” Daddy shook his head, lowering his eyes to the floor. It was all a ruse.

  “You want to know a secret?” my father asked, lifting his back to me.

  “Always.”

  As we reached my door, he faced me, his mouth pressed into a hard line. With every breath, his shoulders rose and fell. “I’ve known where you’ve been all this time. I followed you that day, and I saw you didn’t get on the plane. If I had been smarter, I would have talked to you and taken you back home. I didn’t think you would disappear.”

  My mouth dropped. “All this time? How did you know?”

  “When I realized you weren’t coming back, I talked to Frank. You remember him? He was a retired detective. I asked him to follow your movements. He’s been reporting to me since.”

  What was I supposed to say to that? My father had let me go. He’d let me live the life I’d been living all this time and not made a peep? I nodded, because in the deep, dark recesses of my mind, I understood. Without saying it out loud, I comprehended why he did that. I decided not to ask him if he would have done the same exact thing if he had known I’d be away this long. I hugged him instead.

  He’d trusted me. He loved me so much he’d let me go. Before he stepped out of the house, he asked a question I had been trying to figure out on my own. “Why didn’t you get on the plane?”

  When I opened my mouth to tell him I didn’t know, another answer came out, “She wouldn’t have wanted me to. She would have wanted me to follow my own path.”

  My knuckle hovered over the door, waiting for my brain to give it the green light. Knock, son of a bitch, knock! I brought my hand back down and took some cleansing breaths as I straightened the wrap-dress over the curves of my hips. I should have said yes to Nica when she offered to accompany me.

  After Daddy left, I’d called her and we agreed to meet at our favorite bistro for lunch. I couldn’t bring myself to say much, but I was able to tell her a few things. Later, much later, she’d want the entire story. And she deserved it.

  “When you’re ready, Chase,” she had said to me, squeezing my hand over the table and offering me understanding I didn’t deserve. But that, among other things, was why she was my best friend.

  At my mother’s insistent invitation, I agreed to meet my parents and Danny for an early dinner. God forbid my mother eat later than six p.m. Since I’d been aware of the world around me, she’d been proud of her figure and cared for it as much as she’d cared for her designer handbags and shoes. Eating after six made her bloated, or so she claimed. Years ago, I used to wonder if she’d have had kids if she’d known how much work it would take to keep herself looking slim and fit.

  What was I saying? I was like my mother! I worked out too much at the gym and wore nothing but designer clothes. Case in point, the dress I had on tonight was off the runway, fresh off a supermodel’s back. I had been saving it for a special occasion. Which one—I’d had no clue.

  At that moment, Alex’s face popped in my head.

  No, I wasn’t saving this dress for him or the date that would never happen.

  “Not at all,” I tried to convince myself, but even I wasn’t buying it. I was full of crap. I’d bought this dress because I’d thought the blue-grey silk jersey fabric matched his eyes. I’d paired it with nude heels because Alex had once told me how sexy my legs were when I wore heels (and yes, I’d kept them on while he’d had me flat on my back that night).

  Thinking of Alex right now wasn’t going to help me deal with this situation, aka Mom.

  I fanned my face. I didn’t know why I was sweating. Sweat and silk did not go together. My fingers darted to the statement necklace sitting low on my neck. Fiddling wasn’t allowed around my mother.

  Okay, get it done, Chase.

  I lifted my knuckles again, and this time, I didn’t hesitate to knock. It took one second for my mother to open the door, which meant she’d been standing behind it this entire time, probably watching me through the peephole. That alone made me narrow my eyes at her. Then, it took her three seconds to “fix” my hair. I gritted my teeth and formed an un-psycho smile.

  “Hi, Mom,” I said through clenched teeth.

  She air-kissed me and proceeded to sit languidly on the sofa. Uh-oh. When my mother posed like an old Hollywood glam actress, it meant trouble was brewing. Mom loved dramatics.

  The door shut behind me, but I didn’t step forward, keeping that faux smile on my face. “Where’s Daddy?” I took in the pricey hotel suite with a wicked view of dusk over the bay as I stayed by the door.

  “I’m here, Nugget.” He ambled in from the bedroom, patting his forehead with a small cloth. He sat on the gold and cream chair and waved me over to give him a hug.

  I had to decide, and fast.

  If I got any closer to the middle of the room, I might as well say goodbye to any form of escape at any signs of awkwardness. But I didn’t want to hurt Daddy’s feelings, and after finding out what he had been keeping from my mother all these years, I couldn’t bring myself to disappoint him, again.

  “Oh, Chastity, dear, could you bring me an Evian from the Frigidaire?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Mom, it’s the twenty-first century. We call it a fridge these days.” I shouldn’t have argued with her, because that meant she’d won. I walked to the wet bar, grabbed a bottled water from the fridge, and brought it to her with a low glass tumbler. Daddy smirked at me as I passed him. I wanted to ask what the hell was going on, but not within my mother’s earshot.

  As I tried to think of an excuse to skip our night out, I took my time twisting open the bottle, pouring the overpriced water into the glass, and handing it to Mom. “Are you not well?”

  She made me wait, taking little sips of the water before speaking. “Oh, it must be the heat.” She rubbed a hand over her dry neck. Nuh-uh. I wasn’t buying it. She was up to something.

  “If you’re not feeling up to it, we can cancel dinner.” I could go home and avoid having to see Danny.

  “Oh no, dear.” She paused for a sip. “Maybe your Daddy and I can stay here, and you can head on out with Daniel?” Mother’s eyes flitted to the right.

  I propped a hand over a hip and shook my head. “No. No way. I’m not going to dinner alone with him. You said we’d go out together. All four of us.” I glanced at my father, silently pleading for his support. His head was down, and he looked pale. I hated that he was in the middle of this. It was unfair to him. “I’m not doing this.” I threw my hands up in exasperation, and walked toward the door.

  But a knock stopped me midway. Mother jumped off the sofa—so much for feeling ill. “Oh that must be Daniel.”

  My shoulders sagged. I’d never win with my mother. As she opened the door for Danny, I again pleaded for Daddy’s help. But he was avoiding my gaze. Perhaps he hadn’t been able to catch up on the sleep he had missed last night while he’d staked out my place. I pressed a hand over my stomach and inhaled, trying, but failing, to quell my brewing anxiety.

  “Hello, Daniel!” my faking
-illness mother greeted him as soon as he stepped in. “My, oh my, don’t you look handsome. Doesn’t he, Chastity?”

  My eyes travelled slowly to where he stood. Damn, he did look handsome in a custom-tailored, dark blue suit. My heart thundered, making me all too aware of the effect he still had on me. I couldn’t trust myself to speak. I stood stiffly and tried not to squirm under his intense gaze.

  Danny and Mom made their way to me. She held my hand in one of hers and grasped Danny’s with the other. My mother fluttered—fluttered!—her lashes at Danny and then at me as she squeezed our hands together. “Look at you two. Perfect, just perfect.”

  I rolled my eyes. I might as well go along with this obviously cooked-up scene, dreading to think what the consequences could be if I refused. The lesser of two evils was having dinner with Danny. My mother released our hands and let Danny hold mine on his own.

  “I guess it’s just you and me tonight.” I smiled, and let it spread all the way to my eyes. Danny had done nothing wrong. But something continued to boggle my mind. What the hell he was doing here in San Francisco with my parents? Tonight, I could find out why.

  “Seems like it,” he said through a barely-hidden smile as Mom resumed her act back on the couch.

  He nodded at my father, who’d kept his mouth shut the entire time. I squinted when he shrugged. And here I thought he had my back.

  Danny tugged my hand over the crook of his elbow as he bade my parents adieu. I massaged my temple with my free hand. If there was a migraine blooming, I would welcome it wholeheartedly. At least it would serve as an excuse. But my own body betrayed me when all I got was a sore thumb from kneading the side of my head.

  The elevator ride down to the lobby of the posh hotel atop Nob Hill was spent in silence. Twenty-three floors. People stepped in from other floors, forcing Danny and me to the corner of the mirrored car. He placed a protective, yet not intrusive hand around my waist. If spontaneous combustion was a real phenomenon, I could have had one from the heat coming off his hand alone. His body was pressed close to me but not on me. Classic Danny. Always the gentleman. He’d never been one to take advantage of a situation. Or me—not ever.