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Craig’s lungs were on fire. He couldn’t maintain this pace for another second. Casting a fleeting glimpse over his shoulder, he assured himself, that Mike Jamison was no longer behind him. “Jesus Christ,” he wheezed, ducking into a deserted alley and resting his hands on his knees. Leaning against the brick wall of a building, he wiped the sweat from his face with the palm of his hand. What had happened the night before? He was certain he hadn’t done anything with Kirsten. It reeked of entrapment. That was the only explanation. He just didn’t know how those two conniving women had done it. “Marissa,” he murmured. “I have to get to Marissa and make her understand.” Stepping from the alley, Craig made his way toward Carolyn Reed’s house, keeping a watchful eye toward his back. He passed through the front door without knocking and instantly met a half dozen women scolding him about bad luck to see the bride on their wedding day before she came to him at the church. Holding his hands up to thwart their efforts to shove him back out the door, he couldn’t help but feel exceedingly guilty when he caught sight of Marissa’s huge, happy eyes. “Ladies, ladies!” The room finally quieted. “I need a moment alone with my wife.” “Wife,” one of them teased, “she isn’t your wife yet.” The rest of the group cackled, caught up in the fun of the day. “As a matter of fact, she is and it is imperative that I speak with her immediately.” His eyes swept their faces. “Alone.” Good humor sucked out of the room with vacuum force, but before the women could file out another small but raucous crowd burst unannounced through Carolyn’s front door. “That son of a bitch is marrying my daughter right now!” Mike Jamison’s bellow echoed off the walls. “I’ve brought the reverend, so get out of our way.” An obviously uncomfortable Reverend Hollister shuffled his feet while Kirsten and Molly Jamison wisely stood just outside the front door. “Marissa,” Craig stepped forward with his arms pleadingly outstretched. Damn but he’d wanted to tell her himself. No. That wasn’t true. He hadn’t wanted to tell her this at all, but the events of the morning needed to come from him, not a riotous mob. “What is going on?” The words were a question but her eyes said that she already knew. Standing stock-still, he could do nothing but stare at her, guiltily. “Are you going to tell her?” Mike spat. “Or should I?” “I...” he began miserably, pleading with his eyes. “I...” his shoulders slumped. “I love you,” he said finally. Taking another step forward, he placed both hands on her waist and said, “Please believe me when I tell you how much you mean to me and that I would never intentionally hurt you.” All color drained from her face as two words burned in her mind, bachelor party. “Aren’t you going to tell her why you can’t marry her?” “Damn it, Mike,” Craig shot him a dangerous look, “I told you that Marissa and I are already married.”
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