My heart pounded in my chest as I ran faster and faster. I couldn’t look back. There was no doubt about it. He was getting closer. Maybe I wanted him to. I wasn’t sure of anything at this point. My white-as-snow heels scraped against the concrete, and it was all I could do not to knock down every other New Yorker, bustling around outside of the Plaza Hotel. I struggled to remember what happened. I know I was walking into the church, and I saw him in there. Then, I got scared, and the next thing I knew I was running down what could have been the longest flight of stairs I have ever seen in my life, eager for a cab to arrive to take me anywhere but where I was. I’d left them all waiting. My family, his family...and, it was all because of my stupid, senseless cold feet.
I was almost oblivious to when he grabbed my arm and pulled me into his embrace, but I felt safe there, and I didn’t want to leave. I couldn’t clear my mind. I just stood there, in the middle of Time Square, sobbing onto him and his rented suit. I could hear nothing but his voice, “It’s okay. It’s okay.” Was it? Did he realize that I had just left him at the altar? Did he realize I had just voluntarily fled a room full of people who matter most to me? How could he?
“We don’t have to get married,” his lips brushing on my ear.
“I love you,” was all I managed to choke out.
“I know,” he smiled. I needed to explain.
“I shouldn’t have gone. It was stupid. I want to marry you, it’s just I felt…”
He shut me up with a kiss. That did the trick.
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