Read Online Down the Aisle by Christine Bell - Free Book Online

see our lives unfold together. To watch our children, the ones we make or the ones we’re honored enough to choose, grow and learn. To—”
    Lacey’s lips quivered, her smile crumpled, and his world shook. “I- I can’t do this,” she whispered, a wild light in her eyes. And then…she ran.
    He stared after her for a long moment, dumbfounded. What the fuck had just happened?
    “Not again,” Lacey’s Aunt Charise muttered.
    Cat silenced her with a death stare before stepping up to the altar. Lucky thing, because Galen was frozen to the spot and his brain was melting down. What did she mean, she couldn’t?
    “Ladies and gentleman,” his sister said smoothly, taking his arm and leading him off the dock. “Please help yourself to more hors d’oeuvres in the tents behind you while Galen and his bride have a little chat. I’m sure you all agree, this heat can make you say some crazy things, am I right?”
    The guests mumbled to each other and seemed at a loss but eventually stood and picked their way over to the tents.
    “Go get her,” Cat hissed.
    He nodded, on autopilot, and started toward the house. He’d hoped his reassurance that they would have a family, come hell or high water, would have made her feel better, but clearly that wasn’t the case. What if she’d left for real? What if she really didn’t want to marry him anymore? His stomach turned, and he shoved the idea away, focusing instead on the ground in front of him. The smooth, worn wooden path leading to the light blue saltbox he’d spent most of his summers in.
    Summers with Lacey.
    Jesus, what would he do without her?
    He pushed open the door to his parent’s cottage and made his way up the steps, praying with every one that she was there. That she was waiting to talk to him and hadn’t taken off for good. The bathroom door was closed, and the sight made his whole body shake with relief. They always left it open, so someone was in there.
    He approached the door, fist extended to knock, when he heard it. His beautiful wife-to-be, crying. Not a good, “I’m emotional because I’m getting married” kind of cry. This was heartbreak, and his stomach clenched just hearing it. His first instinct was to kick the fucking door open and put whoever was responsible flat on their back, but he stopped himself at the last second. Clearly it was him. That’s why she’d run away. But surely the fact that she stayed meant something?
    He swallowed the bile that burned his throat and replayed the last few days in his head. What had he done to hurt her so badly? She’d been pretty distant, but damn it, he’d tried. Maybe he hadn’t tried hard enough.
    Maybe giving her space had made her think he didn’t care? God, they were partners, and he’d failed her before they even made it official. Maybe she was afraid that was a bad omen for the rest of their lives together.
    He raised his fist and knocked on the door.
    A hiccup, the honking of a blown nose, and then a soft voice. “Who is it?”
    Heart in his throat, he responded. “It’s me.”
    The long pause was like a rabbit punch to the kidney. Jesus, she didn’t even want to talk to him now?
    “You’re not supposed to see me without my veil until we’re married, and I lost it on the path somewhere.”
    He sucked in a steadying breath as fresh hope came rushing in from all sides. If she actually planned on not going through with the wedding, it wouldn’t matter whether he saw her with her veil or not. He’d take that as a positive sign.
    “So take off your dress, too. Then I won’t see the whole thing together.”
    She let out a short, watery laugh and footsteps sounded. “It’s not as easy as you might think.”
    She was close now, and he imagined her face pressed to the door. He laid a hand on it, wishing he could touch her. Hold her. Make her feel better. “I’ll close my eyes and help. If I recall, this wouldn’t be my first time helping you out of a wedding dress, babe.”
    Had it been