Page 139 of Runaway Bride and Prejudice

I’m not sure Shakespeare’s question makes sense in this context, but Idoknow that no other comforter would smell as good as the one I’m wrapped up in.

In any case, I’ve spent the morning wrapped in Van’s comforter and his scent. Afraid to come out of his room, honestly. He left for the Summit early, and without him, my safety buffer is gone.

I woke up when he slipped into the room when it was still dark. Guess the lock wouldn’t have stopped his sisters anyway if it was easy enough for Van to pick.

I pretended to be asleep while he tiptoed in, using his phone as a flashlight. When he went into the closet, I watched him through slitted eyes, slipping them closed again when he came back out, duffle bag in hand.

He hovered by the bed for a moment while I tried to breathe slow, steady, sleeping breaths even as my heart pounded.

What was he doing? What was he thinking?

He probably stayed less than a minute but it felt much longer. Just before leaving, he gently tugged the comforter up to my chin, and I swear, I felt his lips brush my hair.

It left me wired, my brain tumbling over anxious thought after anxious thought, I fell back asleep, only waking when I started hearing his sisters move about the house. The idea of running into them—here in Van’s house of all places—means I’m trapped in here. Unless I want to face them, and right now, I don’t want to face anyone.

Possibly not even myself.

“It might be better if you don’t come in,” Parker says with a sigh. “All things considered.”

“Have you seen my dad after … everything?”

“Only from a distance, and he’s kind of a holy terror. I just hope he’ll channel his feelings into helping the guys win tonight.”

Or, at least, that he won’t channel his feelings into punishing Van.

“I’ll send an updated list of things to work on.” Parker’s voice returns to normal, like she started her day off with a breakfast of sprinkles and sunshine.

She doesn’t bother asking me if I’m coming to the game tonight, and I’m both disappointed and relieved.

I feel like a coward, hiding in Van’s room. From his sisters. From work. From my dad. Fromhim.

“I’m sure you’re really glad you hired me now, huh?” I ask.

“Iamglad.” Her answer is immediate and fierce. “I only wish I’d been aware of the circumstances so I could be mindful for your sake. I mean, I was trying to play matchmaker with a guy you’re already married to.” There’s a pause. “For now.”

I hear the slightest question in her voice. She’s offering me an open door. One I could walk through, trusting Parker with how I’m feeling now, and what’s going on with me and Van.

“Just know that I’m here,” she says after the moment of silence stretches on. “For anything you need. Are you … okay after everything?”

“Not really,” I admit. “But I will be.”

And if I keep telling myself that, even with no idea how it’s possible, maybe it will become true.

I spend the day locked in Van’s room like I’m a curmudgeonly hermit. And it’s starting to feel like a tiny prison cell. One with the most comfortable bed ever.

While I did do enough actual work to justify being paid for this job, I also spent time googling and reading stories of people who fell in love fast.

Turns out there are alotof people out there who have ridiculously quick love stories. Couples who got married within a few weeks or a few days of meeting. People who claim they fell in love at first sight. Arranged marriages, Vegas weddings on a whim, elopements.

While I didn’t shy away from stories that didn’t end happily, I found way more firsthand accounts than I thought possibleof couples who are still together after years despite a quick courtship.

Love stories with a super fast timeline definitely aren’t the norm, but reading so many accounts convinced me that it’s possible.

The real question—is it possible for me? Forus?

Voices carry down the hall and I hear the sounds of keys jangling, feet stomping, and then the front door slamming. I peek through the blinds, watching their rental car back out of the driveaway.

I don’t know if Van’s sisters are running out for fast food or if they’re leaving this early for the game. But my stomach is about to eat itself, so, I make a break for the kitchen.

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