The Impostor, A Love Story by Tiffany Carmouche

Author:Tiffany Carmouche
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: romance, romantic suspense, friendship, suspense, inspirational, love story, serial killer, contemporary, artist, sensual, stalker, survival, alaska, single mom, adventures, alaska adventure, new beginning, new adult, adult and young adult, adult fiction book series, rediscovers self

Chapter Twenty-three

When we got to the airport, I dashed into the bathroom to try and get dressed. I figured I would do my make up in the cab to save time.

“You really look stunning, Nicole.” Emily came over to me, taking my hands as I stood in the doorway of the ladies’ room.

“You do, Nicole,” Chris assured me.

But as I walked out, both Emily and Chris began laughing.

“What’s wrong?”

They were glaring at my shoes. “Are you taking that with you?”

Toilet paper dangled from my shoe. I shook my foot to force it off, but I was quite undignified and my performance only made them laugh louder. I finally was able to dismantle the pesky critter and attempt to recover some dignity.

Chris looked at his watch. “I have a car coming, but you will probably get there faster if you take one of the cabs that are already waiting outside. You should make it to the reception just in time.”

“Are you sure you all don’t want to come?”

“I won’t crash the wedding.”

“I’m really nervous. He’s going to be so upset I was late.”

Chris put his arm around me, “Nicole, he might be upset at first, but don’t leave. Have a drink or two and be your beautiful self. And if you need to leave, leave with grace. You are a beautiful girl and you’re even more beautiful on the inside. He would be a fool not to forgive you.”

A tear welled up in my eye. I put my head on his shoulder and gave him a hug and held out my arms for Emily to join us in a group hug.

As we walked over to a curb, he hailed a cab for me and reminded me, “Make an entrance and make an exit, and if he’s a jerk, don’t leave right away. Remember no falling, however, and no dragging around a toilet paper friend as a companion.” He opened the door to the cab for me, and off I went. Handing the driver the address for the reception hall, I made an attempt to put my makeup on using the tiny passenger mirror in the front seat.

I whispered a silent prayer in the car. When we arrived at the hall, I was so anxious. I sat in the cab for what seemed an eternity, intimidated by the elegant crowd of people I could see through pavilion windows in the ballroom. Everyone looked so perfect. Only a few hours earlier, I was curled up on the airport floor with two black eyes. “Breathe,” I accidently said out loud.

“What?” The driver responded in a thick accent. He was waiting patiently; I guess he thought I was talking to him. “I sorry, Miss, but I have to turn back meter on if you don’t get out.”

“I’m sorry.” I made my way out of the taxi and checked my appearance in the reflection of the cab window. I waited on the street corner, petrified by the possible outcome. “Breathe,” I reminded myself. I felt a little nauseous.

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