The Runaway Bride

She’d refused to be handled. Bernie had just done the same thing when she’d turned off her phone and driven west. Her parents had always “handled” her, and until today, she’d never minded. She’d done her duty, shown up at cocktail parties and dinners and made nice with various politicians. She was a general media favorite, and she liked the attention.

But now she wouldn’t do what they wanted. She wouldn’t smile for the press and say something sweet and submissive like, “Calvin and I are so sorry to disappoint everyone today, but we’ve done some soul-searching together, and we really feel...”

That would be a lie. They’d done zero soul-searching, least of all together, and she wasn’t going to stand there, making the cad look like a decent man to protect his ambitions.

“I think I want some of that pie,” Lucille said, rising to her feet. “I’ll bring you a piece.”

Looking around that living room, Bernadette saw the worn patches on the sofa, the slightly shabby furniture, her aunt’s wide hips and grubby slippers. Lucille had walked away from the obligations and social demands that came with wealth and a privileged family, and she’d landed here, in a town called Runt River. Here, in the midst of ordinary. There were no maids or housekeepers. Everything looked faded and worn instead of chic and elegant. Personal indulgence came in the form of a mug of hot chocolate made from a pouch of powder, instead of European truffles or a crystal dish of chocolate mousse. Gone were the luxuries and comforts Bernadette had been accustomed to, because with a similar sense of outrage and commitment to utter truthfulness, Bernadette had done the same thing her aunt had done—defied Milhouse Morgan.

What have I done?

CHAPTER THREE (#u90d596ff-cb17-5f31-a66c-b92c58acaf9c)

IT WAS THREE in the morning, and Liam stood in the middle of his living room in a pair of pajama bottoms and an undershirt, with Ike screaming in his arms. When Leanne died, he’d gone down to her apartment and gotten Ike’s things—toys, clothes, diapers. Her parents had died years ago, and she had a cousin who had some addiction issues, but no one else. Liam hadn’t put together a funeral. Leanne had been cremated, and he’d sprinkled her ashes in a field.

She hadn’t owned her home or anything like that, so besides paying off her credit cards, there hadn’t been too much to deal with. He’d left the last of her things in the apartment for the landlords to clear out. It might not have been their job, but he’d done as much as he could with the help of his foster brother, Tim. He couldn’t face any more.

A few local moms had dropped off some hand-me-down clothes for Ike over the past few weeks, but the boy was wearing pajamas with trains on them that Liam had brought from the apartment. They were a bit small, but he seemed to sense that they were part of his life with his mom, and he wouldn’t wear anything else. Liam didn’t push the matter. The poor boy had enough change to deal with.

Ike’s face was wet with tears, and his crying hadn’t slowed. They’d both been up for an hour already.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, raising his voice above Ike’s wails. “Let’s talk about this.”

Ike didn’t seem so inclined, and Liam heaved a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment, looking for his own calm. He understood Ike’s anger—his mom was gone, and he was with a bunch of strangers who couldn’t possibly make up for her absence. But Liam was trying.

For the past month, Ike had responded to being held, liked some stories. Liam had let Ike stay awake in front of the TV until he dropped off in exhaustion and slept through until daybreak. But tonight was different—something had triggered a meltdown, and Liam couldn’t help but wonder if it had been Bernie’s arrival. Ike had been raised without a father, and maybe right now he needed a woman’s touch.

Ike’s sobs weren’t abating. His hands were bunched into rage-filled fists, and he stiffened like a board as he howled.

“Hey, buddy...” Liam looked across the street, and there was a light on in the kitchen at Lucille’s place. That meant she was up, and he wouldn’t be imposing. Not too much, at least. Lucille had been here for him for all the bumps this month, and while he always swore he wouldn’t impose again, he always did. He picked up the cordless phone and dialed his neighbor’s number. It rang twice before a female voice picked up.

“Hello?” She sounded cautious, and was barely audible above Ike’s crying, but Liam could tell it wasn’t Lucille.

“It’s Liam, across the street,” he said.

“Hi, it’s Bernadette. Is the little guy okay?”

“Not really. I can’t seem to calm him down. I was trying to reach Lucille to see if she’d give me a hand. Is she up?”

“No, just me. Don’t worry. I’ll be right over.”

Liam blinked at the phone when he realized she’d hung up, not giving him a chance to decline. Not that he wanted to, exactly. He needed help; Ike needed help. He’d just preferred that help from the neighbor he knew.

“Come on, Ike,” Liam pleaded. “I know you’re upset...”

He really had nothing to offer, though. He couldn’t bring Leanne back—and maybe Bernie had reminded him of her. But something suddenly occurred to him.

There was a knock on the front door, and Liam pulled it open to see Bernadette standing there in a white terry cloth housecoat. Her hair was back in a ponytail, and she looked like a different woman from the tattered bride of earlier. Ike blinked at the new arrival in surprise, his howls stopped for the moment.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she said softly. “Hug?”

Ike reached for Bernie, and she took the toddler into her arms, snuggling him close. Seriously? How did she do that? He’d been hugging the kid all evening, and again ever since he’d woken up at two in the morning. How did she simply show up and make it all okay? He resented that. He was the one Ike had, and he was doing his best, but tonight it wasn’t enough.

“If you could just hold him for a couple minutes, I have an idea,” Liam said.

He didn’t wait for an answer, he just walked away, his nerves completely frazzled. A crying kid was difficult in a way he’d never imagined before. Somehow, he hadn’t thought parenthood would be like this.

Liam opened the door that led to the basement stairs and flicked on the light. He’d shoved all the pictures of Leanne into boxes after she’d left and dumped them down here. He’d added the few boxes of personal items he’d taken from Leanne’s apartment after she’d died. He’d meant to go through it all eventually, but there hadn’t been time. While pictures of his estranged wife didn’t do much to comfort him, they might help Ike.

He had to rummage through a few boxes before he found what he was looking for—a framed photo of Leanne smiling into the camera. He’d taken it the summer before she left him. She’d probably already started her affair with the senator at that point.

He headed back up the stairs, and when he came into the living room, he found Bernie seated on the couch, Ike leaning his tear-stained face against her shoulder, his breaths coming in shuddering gasps.

“I brought something for you, Ike,” Liam said. “It’s a picture of Mommy. Do you want it?”

He held it up for the boy to see, and Ike stretched out one pudgy hand and pulled the picture against his chest. Maybe it would help. Maybe it wouldn’t, but he had to try. Liam was most definitely out of his depth here.

“So that’s her.” Bernadette craned her neck to get a glimpse of the photo.

“Yup.”

He couldn’t explain the pain attached to that photo. He’d still thought he had a happy marriage at that point, totally oblivious to the fact that her new interest in politics had more to do with the senator himself than with his political platforms. And he’d held on to that photo because deep down, he’d always hoped that she’d come back. She’d married Liam. The senator hadn’t left his wife. So maybe she’d come back eventually.

Some days he imagined her coming back to him and settling back in again, happy to have a decent, hardworking man instead of some philandering politician. Other days, he imagined getting the chance to tell her exactly what she’d lost, and he’d do the rejecting. The fantasies depended on his mood, but he still hoped she’d come back.

Obviously, she never had.

He leaned back, rubbing his hands across his face. How did Bernie manage to look so fresh in the middle of the night?

“Why are you up?” he asked.

“I couldn’t sleep.” She smoothed a hand over Ike’s sweat-damp curls. “I can’t stop thinking about yesterday.”

Yeah, that also made sense. He felt a wave of sympathy. He’d been dealing with Leanne’s betrayal for three years; she’d only started with Calvin’s.

“Did you see it coming?” Liam asked. “The cheating, I mean.”

She shook her head. “No. That’s the thing. I didn’t notice at all...until the last minute, that is.”

“That was the same for me,” he admitted. “I thought she was just really into politics. I didn’t know there was a problem until she told me she was pregnant and she was leaving me.”

“So there’s a chance Ike is yours?” she asked.

He wished. If he’d been the father, maybe it would have changed things for Leanne. Maybe she’d have seen something worth staying for.

“No. I can’t have kids.” That was uncomfortable to talk about, but it was the truth. When Leanne had announced her pregnancy, it had been like a kick in the stomach. He knew what it meant, and she’d been holding a suitcase at the time. He’d begged her to stay. They could figure it out. But she didn’t want to, and she’d walked out to the waiting cab.

“Do you still miss her?” Bernie asked quietly.