Rules that I hadn’t agreed to.
Rule number one was the only one that mattered. Well, that and Gwen’s rule number two, which was that she’d beat us to a pulp if we didn’t follow rule number one.
Rule number one stated that the sister getting married was meant to feel special during the entire process and we were not to insinuate it was a time suck. A rule I should feel bad about breaking.
But I didn’t. God knew I had to go through this process several more times in my future.
“I need to go. You understand, right?” I asked, slipping my arm free of Gwen’s and stepping out of her reach.
“Sure,” Faith answered, and Keaton put his arm around her and pulled her close. If Keaton had been on the clock, he might have thrown me in jail for upsetting his bride-to-be.
“I’ll be at dinner. I promise,” I said, half walking, half jogging for the door.
As soon as I cleared the building, I let out a sigh of relief as I unlocked my car door and yanked it open.
“One day, he’s going to catch you,” Mercy said, appearing by my side. She was fast for having a bum ankle after being chased by a lunatic and falling. I hadn’t even heard the sound of her crutches striking asphalt as she approached. I was that tired.
“Who’s going to catch me?” I asked.
“The man that drew the short end of the stick and is getting saddled with you.”
“You say the sweetest things,” I said, slipping behind the wheel. “But today isn’t the day it’s going to happen.”
“Honor, when are you going to stop running?” Mercy asked.
“Either never or when he quits chasing me,” I answered while turning the key and slamming my door shut.
Even then, never might not be long enough.
