The runaway bride.

"Have you ever been in love?"

The sugary sweet voice belongs to the woman currently skating a sharp pink-painted fingernail down my bare chest. She has her head with tawny locks of hair resting against my chest, hearing the beats of my heart which are in a pattern of solace, having sought comfort in the warmth of her skin.

The nicotine from the cigarette swirls in my mouth before I part my lips, releasing a waft of white smoke toward the ceiling of her one-bedroom apartment above a cafeteria downstairs.

"No," my answer is formed in a hollow tone, chasing the smoke away from my lips.

The woman tilts her head, grey eyes finding my chin. She is the prettiest of all the women I have entertained, thinking that I could move on from her-from the one that has my heart in her fist while she remains unbothered by my existence, finding her peace in a home with Ryan.

"That's a lie," Melanie comments. "You're thirty- three. You must have been in love once."

"Love is a name given to an intense need to let go of your ownership to belong to someone else. I consider myself above minuscule human connections," I tell her, stating a false claim flatly.

She is a good fuck. I don't wish for her to be anything more.

"I don't believe that. You're lying." She pushes herself from my body, the comforter sliding down her body, a full tit coming into view with its skin marked red by my teeth. "You can tell me the truth. I'm good with keeping secrets."

"You really wanna know?"

"Can't I? You're a fascinating man. We have slept together more times than I can count now. I deserve to know something about you."

"I know nothing about you."

I pull out the cigarette stick from my mouth, brushing it off on the ashtray kept above her nightstand. I rise from my lying position, the heavy feeling in my chest just as evident as it was two years ago while I plant my feet on the hardwood floor, grabbing for my pair of discarded jeans.

"Another lie. You're getting good with this, stranger," Melanie says.

I find her with her knees pulled to her chest, her arms over it as she watches me wear my jeans. I pull the zipper, my cock having grown flaccid the moment she started getting personal.

"I was in love once. I still am," I confess, the biting memory not being of a livening nature to me.

"Who's she? Someone special?" Melanie's eyes shimmer with curiosity that is devoid of any hint of jealousy.

She is a young woman of twenty-four. We first met each other when I visited the cafeteria she works at. We had a good time and I didn't even have to tell her my name to get her to sleep with me. She was only interested in my cock and I let her have it in exchange for her delicious pussy.

I have tried my best to dismiss the fact that she is a brunette too. Just like the rest of them.

Just like her.

"I did and now she's my brother's wife."

"Ouch!" Melanie bites down on the inside of her cheek at my response, a flash of guilt appearing in her pupils. "I touched a sore spot there. Sorry."

"Are you?" I mutter under my breath, reaching for my shirt which dangles on a corner of her bed.

When I first came here, she didn't have a bed at all. I bought it for her not only because I wanted to do something good but also to have something to bend her over for when I slammed into her from behind.

I slide my hands inside the sleeves, my back to her as I button myself, having lost interest in the conversation.

She however has a lot to say it seems.

"You're leaving earlier than usual. Wanna hang out for a while?" she inquires, climbing down the bed while being wrapped in the comforter still. She finds me struggling to pull on the buttons of my shirt and glides herself between a wall and my body to help. I let her while staring at the crown of her head which only reaches a mere 5 '3. "We can have a mini date in the cafeteria. You can tell me more about her."

She quickly finishes buttoning my shirt, looking up to beam at me through a pair of swollen lips that gives the world's best blowjobs.

"What made you think I want you to be my counselor?" I say harshly, stepping back from her as her smile drops at my dismissal of her intentions.

"I don't get you, stranger," she observes with a pouty mouth. "You never even told me your name. You come here and you fuck me and then when I start to want more, you leave."

Just like I want the rest of my life to be. Søttling isn't going to be my thing until I can erase her memories from my head. She haunts me without being dead.

"You shouldn't try getting to know me. I need your pussy and you love to suck on my cock. That's where our deal ends."

"Is it because I'm just a waitress? I'm not good enough for billionaires like you, am I?"

I roll my eyes at her dumb conclusion. "I'm not responsible for your self-hating thoughts."

I take a few steps towards the door but she stops me with a touch against my forearm.

"Will you come back?" she asks.

I chew at the inside of my cheek before facing her. She drops her hand, doe-like eyes wide on me as I take a step to come close to her. I lift a hand to her lips, dragging her plush bottom lip down, imagining the way it had sucked me off quite eagerly a few hours ago.

"Pretty girl..." I rasp which makes her flesh turn pink. "You should wish that I never come back. I'm not good news for you."

"I have a thing for bad boys."

My thumb departs her lip as my hand dips down, curling around the smooth olive skin of her neck. She jumps with a gasp when my fingers curve around that gentle throat, pushing her against the wall behind her. Her eyes bulge when I squeeze her, her face losing blood at an alarming rate the tighter my fingers grow. I lean forward, lips a hairsbreadth away from her earlobe.

"After the way you just tried to get personal with me..." I whisper with a threatening edge to my voice. "Pray that I never come back 'cause if I do, the next time you'll find yourself fucking a monster in your bed who's far from being a man."

I let my fingers uncurl when her face turns completely white. She coughs when I release her, moving away from her to give her space to breathe. Her eyes are bloodshot the next time she locks eyes with me.

"I see why the girl you love didn't love you back," she bites back. "Let me guess you're the kind who fucks women who remind you of her. Is she a brunette too?

Fighting the tug at my lips, I maintain a neutral expression as I reach for her door.

"You got the game," I say before I step out.

"Asshole!" I hear her faint shout from behind. "For your information - I'm blonde underneath the dye."

"Good for you. You just found your way out of the devil's snare," I apprise her. "Word of advice - don't find another."

New York is carrying on with its hustle-bustle when I walk out of Melanie's residence, the cafeteria behind me sparkling with its decorative board even in the bright afternoon with the sudden beating down upon the asphalt pavement. My car is parked on the other side and while I wait for the traffic light to turn green to allow safe passage, I have the urge to hear her voice.

Just hear her voice. That's it. Like I have the urge to every day.

I lean by a lamppost, my thumb over my phone screen dialing her number from the favorites list. She picks up after the second ring, that breathy sigh of hers doing something feral to my heart when I hear it.

"Hey, Lizzie," I say.

"Stop calling me, Reece," she complains with a groan like every day. "I'm not your messenger. Talk to him yourself."

All this while and she still thinks that I call her because I want to talk to Ryan.

"I just wanted to hear your voice."

"You're sick."

The light patter of her footsteps over the phone has my heart thumping, then the thuds grow faster when I hear the beautiful voice of the baby she has with her who is speaking a language of her own.

Josephine is named after her mother's maiden name. I love my niece to death even though I hardly get to see her because I don't visit them enough in LA. My home is there and yet, being near Lizzie is never not heart-wrenching.

Every time she looks at Ryan with those eyes full of love, I get the ugly feeling that I could have had that look for myself if I hadn't ruined us.

"After this is all over. I said to her long ago once. Will you find it in your heart to love me?"

Never, Reece," she had stated without hesitation.

"I wanted to tell you that I'm in New York again. Daily location checks as you asked for," I say, glancing at the light which hasn't turned green yet.

"There's a thing called a text that you can use for that shit," she chides me.

"And miss hearing you rant like this?"

"Look, Reece..." I feel the tension in her voice and picture her with a stressed look upon her. "Now's not the time to annoy me. I'm already pretty annoyed. I just emailed my best friend for the hundredth time in two years and she hasn't responded yet again. On top of that, Josephine just spoke her first word after numerous therapy classes. You know what it was?"

"Mama?" I make a weak guess, dragging an eyebrow up.

"Fuck," Lizzie says. "That's what her first word was."

I purse my lips as a rumble of laughter builds in my stomach at the news.

"Did you ask your husband where she learned that from?" I question, already knowing that the culprit is her father who throws a lot of fucks around every time he is happy or nervous or sad.

"Don't laugh," Lizzie scolds me when she hears the hint of a chuckle in my voice.

"Sorry."

"When you have kids, you'll understand."

"I don't plan to."

The light turns green and I cross the road with a few others.

"By the way you lead your bachelor life, I'm waiting for the day someone drops a kid at your door with a note saying you're the father," Lizzie tells me while I am walking toward my SUV.

I spot a group of burly men weirdly dressed in dark suits on my way, their presence distracting me as I spot them running around as if they are frantically looking for someone.

"Makes one hell of a plot for your cheap romance books, doesn't it?" I remark to Lizzie over the phone.

"Those books aren't cheap. They teach a lot about human connection. You need to read them," she replies enthusiastically.

"I read the mafia one you recommended. I'm in the third book now."

"It's addictive, isn't it? I made Ryan a fan of smutty alien books," she giggles sweetly.

"You should do this for a job."

"Excuse me," she starts. "I'm a billionaire's wife and the owner of the entire Pierce estate. I don't need to do a job unless I want to. I love my homemaker life."

The way she talks with such fascination about the most mundane of things makes me smile without effort.

"God...I love you," I blurt out, then realize what I have just said as I halt before reaching the car, knowing that I messed up. "I mean...fuck!"

Silence follows as I run a hand through my hair, an icy feeling in my chest growing while I wait for Lizzie to say something. Anything.

"Bye, Reece," she says.

"Lizzie, wait, I didn't mean it-" I hear a beep as she cuts the call before I can do some damage control. I bring the phone down, looking at the screen as a violent urge to smash it crashes into me. "Fuck!"

I somehow control myself from growing through with that urge. I pocket my phone, framing excuses for my slip of tongue as I reach my car. I discover that I left it unlocked in my hurry to reach Melanie and mentally slap myself as I open the door and settle into the driver's seat.

I shut my eyes, pressing two fingers to the center of my forehead while I beat myself down over my mistake.

When I hear a rustle of clothes, I fling them open, my sight falling on the rearview mirror where the shape of another human being inside my car makes me blink.

I turn to face the creature in the passenger seat, seeing a pair of viridian eyes staring back at me.

She is gorgeous.

Dressed in a white gown which she holds in a fist while she gazes at me, the brunette has two locks of her hair styled to curl and bounce over rosy cheeks with her milky skin glowing and a set of pink lips parted in astonishment. She is a sight for sore eyes.

It takes me a while to realize what I am looking at.

There is a bride in my car.