Calamity Rayne Gets Hitched Read Online Lydia Michaels

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Funny Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 151044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
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He reclaimed my hand and led me through a set of double doors into a tented area outside of the building. At this altitude, I could hear the wind howling through the alleyways of buildings, but the noise of the city was silent from so many stories above.

“This is it,” he said, leading me down a set of wide steps. “This is where we’re going to say our vows and become husband and wife.”

In the quiet openness, stripped of all luxury and blanketed only by the stars, the space was still an impressive sight to see. Stone parapets and hedgerows lined the perimeter and the spires of the St. Patrick Cathedral speared into the blue night sky.

“Wow, Hale.”

“It’s perfect, isn’t it?”

It was everything he wanted. “Yes.”

“We’ll be standing over here, by the reflection pool.” He towed me toward the edge where a large grassy courtyard dominated the space. “I’ll be waiting here. Our family and closest friends will be seated there and there.” He pointed to either side of the rooftop garden. “And you’ll come from those doors.”

I could see it. Our friends. His siblings. My mom and his. Remington. It wasn’t about the flowers or the architecture for me. It was only about the groom.

“It’s beautiful.”

He faced me and took my hands in his, as he looked into my eyes. “I know everything’s been moving fast and I’ve been putting a lot of the planning on you, Rayne, but everything is going to work out. I feel it. For once in my life, I know—without a doubt—that I’m doing the right thing. You make my life make sense.”

I laughed that he could hold that sort of faith in me, because my life was a complete cluster fuck on most days. How I could make sense of anyone else’s was beyond me.

He placed his hands on my shoulders. “Are you getting cold feet?”

“No, my feet are toasty warm.”

“Then what? I know that look. If there’s something you don’t like, tell me.”

Dropping my gaze, I sighed. “I really thought my dad might want to walk me down the aisle. I know how stupid that sounds. I haven’t heard from him in years⁠—”

“Hey, that’s not stupid. He’s your dad. Of course you’d want him here.”

Part of me wished I didn’t. Part of me wished I could accept his rejection and reject him right back, but I wasn’t built that way.

His brow pinched as he looked into my eyes, sincerely measuring my pain. “Have you thought about asking him?”

“I tried contacting him.”

“You did?” The shock on his face was tinged only by his worry. “When?”

I shrugged. “A few weeks ago. Nothing came of it.” My dad would always be the one thing I couldn’t get right.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Gross inadequacy slithered through my stomach. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Rayne, we’re getting married. You never have to be embarrassed in front of me. We’re in this together.”

And while I appreciated his sentiment, I knew that wasn’t completely true, at least where my dad was concerned. Just as I could never fully feel the pain Remington caused Hale, he would never fully understand the pain my dad caused me. The most we could do is show each other empathy and compassion, so I hugged him. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He rested his chin on the top of my head and rubbed his hand up and down my back, spreading warmth through my coat. “There’s no rule that says a dad has to give his daughter away. People are there to see you, not him. No one will miss him if he’s not there.”

Except me, I thought.

“I know. It’s just taking me more effort than I expected. It’s like this officially ends something I always assumed he’d eventually fix.”

He hugged me. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“Me too.”

My mind leapt to a different wedding, far away in the very distant future, as I imagined Hale coming out of a set of doors and me watching from the front. Elara, dressed in a cascading white gown, walking by his side. There were good dads and then there were duds.

I no longer wanted to waste energy on the duds.

Truth or Glare

When I returned to Florida, I joined the gym for three reasons. One, I had a wedding in a few weeks, and no matter how much I tried to escape the social pressures and wedding stereotypes, working out on sweaty, metal equipment seemed the bride-like thing to do and the only way to escape the guilt.

Two, my best friend was avoiding me and keeping secrets about a gym rat named Paul. I hoped to meet Paul by accident while at said gym, then Elle would have no choice but to admit to their clandestine love affair and all would be right in the world of BFFs again.

And three, they had a smoothie bar.



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