This is your lucky day

Chloe

There, in the middle of the room, on the soft purple carpet, surrounded by clouds of puffy white tulle, sat a bride-to-be.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her; they were glued to the apparition on the floor, and no matter how much I knew I should turn around and return the same way I came, I couldn’t. Some pull from the bottom of my gut was not letting me. Instead, it was screaming at me to go in and see what was wrong.

I quickly scanned her and concluded that the girl was crying inconsolably. Her pretty face had traces of smeared makeup, and the once-perfect bun was half destroyed. Even all messed up, she was the most beautiful bride I have ever seen. She could’ve easily been mistaken for a princess from a fairytale.

“Hey,” I whispered. “Are you OK?”

My voice seemed to snap her out of her trance, and she raised her head to meet my gaze. Oh, God! How could so much pain exist in such magnificent blue eyes?

She didn’t answer my question, but the subtle flinch of her eyebrow told me she understood me. Instead of speaking, she shook her head in negation.

“What’s wrong?” This could be a big mistake, but I couldn’t watch her crying like there was no tomorrow.

As soon as those words escaped my mouth, a spark of hope ignited in her eyes, and she nodded vigorously, desperately trying to get up from the rustled, layered skirt of her wedding gown.

“Help me run away,” the girl in front of me mumbled, leaving me flabbergasted. What? “Please,” she grabbed my hand and clutched it tightly as if it was her lifeline, adding with a newborn enthusiasm: “Please! I don’t want to marry him. I never did! My parents made me do this!” her voice was hoarse from crying.

“Seriously?” I was stunned by this revelation and instantly felt for the poor thing.

Weren’t things like that supposed to be plots from movies or cheap novels? But then again, what did I know about the high society here? I was never part of it, and what’s more, I never cared about it. I lived a comfortable life that I built for myself and was happy with it. What those that considered themselves ‘aristocracy’ and ‘business sharks’ of LA did, wasn’t concerning me in the slightest.

“Yes! I love another man! I love Logan!” She was frantic, on the edge of a nervous breakdown. “Please, will you help me run away? This is my last chance!” She pleaded, and my heart broke at the ocean of trust she had for me. I imagined myself in her spot, lost and helpless, with no one to lean on. I had no idea what was behind all of this or what she did to end up in this situation, but what I saw was a young woman desperate enough to plead for help from a stranger.

I knew coming in was a mistake! If anyone ever found out I was involved in her escape, I would be done! I would have to move to Canada, and maybe that wouldn’t be far enough! Australia maybe. My thoughts ran to the scenario where I would have to leave everything behind to escape the wrath of her parents, but in my mind, there was no doubt about what I was going to do.

I straightened up and offered her a hand.

“Get up. This is your lucky day.” I said. I couldn’t ignore her and act as if we had never met.

“Really?” For a moment there, she was unsure whether she could believe me.

“Yes! But we have to hurry.”

“But how? The house is full of people. We can’t just leave through the front door.”

“That’s why we’re going out the back door. Come,” I looked at her again. “Can we take that dress off of you?” What the hell was I doing?

“No!” she shook her head vigorously, her voice filled with desperate hope. “We don’t have time for that. It took me 40 minutes to put it on.”

I peeked out into the hallway. By some crazy chance, there was no one in sight.

“OK. I’ll go first to make sure the road is clear. Stay close.” ‘This is a bad idea!’ I yelled at myself internally. Why was I doing this?

“Oh, wait, just a sec! I have to leave a note or something.” She was shuffling through the drawers of a table in the corner.

“Yeah. I don’t want to be accused of kidnapping.” I mumbled, still peeking through the door.

She chuckled, and I did too. Great. I wasn’t aiding a crazy person.

“I’m Chloe. I delivered your wedding cake earlier.” I introduced myself, not looking at her.

“Nice to meet you, Chloe. I’m Molly. A bride not to be,” she said with a smile, optimism radiating from her.

I nodded my head before I stepped into the hallway. Ironically, I had no problem orienting and knew exactly which way we should be heading. Quickly, I walked to the end of the hall and entered the kitchen, only to find a couple of maids there. God! What now?

“Hey, girls. Mrs. Scott asked for you. She’s at the venue.” Somehow, I didn’t sound as nervous as I felt, and they didn’t call my bluff, dropping what they were doing and rushing out. It was easier than I thought it would be.

With Molly behind me, I was on my way to the van. Luckily, I left it parked in reverse since it was convenient for unloading earlier, and even better, the door was still wide open. I helped Molly get inside and tucked in her dress.

“Are you sure about this?” I sighed. A new wave of tears rushed over the brims of her eyes, but it didn’t diminish the smile in them. “OK. Find something to hold on to. This is going to be a bumpy ride.” I chuckled at the joke and shut the van’s door right in front of Molly’s confused face. ‘Oh, you’ll understand soon enough.’

I hurried to the driver’s seat before anyone showed up. Maybe because of the adrenaline coursing through my veins, I had a hard time fishing out the keys from my pocket, and putting them in their place was even harder. When the engine started with no protractions, I pressed the gas pedal, but instead of speeding off towards the gate, the van went backwards, hitting something.

“Ouch!” Molly protested loudly.

“Sorry!” I yelped, realizing I had left the damn thing in reverse! Shit!

Carefully, I moved the gearshift into the proper position and stepped on the gas pedal again. This time, the truck went straight ahead, and I sighed in relief. I waved to the guards at the front gate, got on the main road, and sped off as fast as I dared.

“Hey, Molly! Where are you going from here?” I asked, praying silently for her not to say some distant part of town because I wasn’t sure I could drive her there.

She was quiet for an uncomfortably long minute before she mumbled: “I don’t know. I didn’t exactly have time to think this through.”

Fuck. I sighed, realizing I bit off more than I could chew.

“Then I suggest you stay down until we get to my place. We don’t want anyone to witness this.” I could use the entire city not talking about kidnapping the bride in my delivery vehicle.

After a couple more stops on the road, thanks to my still poor clutch handling, we got to the bakery above, which was my apartment. I parked in the usual spot and rushed to open the door for Molly to get out, watching the nearby buildings and the backstreet for curious eyes or unsuspecting passers-by. As if I could ever explain a girl in a horrendously big wedding dress getting out of the old delivery truck. Grabbing Molly by the hand, I ushered her upstairs to my home. Stepping inside the familiar walls brought instant relief. I felt like a burden had been lifted off my back, and right then, I realized how tense and stressed I was.

“Here.” I gave her a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. “These are new. We’re fairly the same size, so it’ll do. And there is a phone in the corner if you want to call that boyfriend of yours.” Molly took the clothes from my hands. She looked much better now than when I found her crying in that room.

“I will. Thank you for helping me.” Although her eyes brimmed with tears again, she was ecstatic.

“I have to return to my work. Will you be OK?” She nodded in confirmation, and I left her there.

A few customers were in the shop, and Abby seemed relieved when she saw me coming in. She must’ve been worried sick after witnessing how I had taken off earlier. We acknowledged each other, and I rushed to help.

My bakery usually dealt with events and weddings, but two years ago, I started selling products to individuals in the front store. Recently, I had so many customers during work hours that I would probably have to hire more people and expand the production.

When the crowd dissipated, Abby gave me the list of calls she took while I was out. Wow, we’d be swamped in the next few weeks!

“How did your delivery go?” Abby asked, but I could sense how worried she was.

“Oh, it went.” What an understatement it was! “There were a lot of hot guys to help,” my voice tinged with conspiracy, which I knew Abby appreciated. “Did Simon call? Any news?” I changed the subject, not wanting to risk blurting out something I shouldn’t.

“He messaged already. The surgery was successful, and he’ll be here tomorrow.”

“Good,” I was glad for Dave. He was a tennis coach, so he needed that knee to be functional. I glanced at the wall clock, and seeing it was 5 pm, I said goodbye to Abby, taking it upon myself to clean the station and lock up.

Over the years, I tried not to make Abby and Simon stay after hours, but I always did. My craft was my life; I enjoyed my time alone, preparing orders for tomorrow and trying new recipes. But today, I had other plans. I had to go upstairs and check on my ‘guest.’ She was alone for some time, and I was starting to worry.

I hoped she contacted her boyfriend and that he’d come for her soon. She couldn’t stay here forever. For the entire day, I expected to hear some noise from upstairs, some ruckus that would alert the unsuspecting customer or neighbor, but everything was perfectly silent. Normal. Which could also mean trouble... Thinking about everything that could go wrong, I quickly locked the store and hurried to the second floor.