Page 24 of Runaway Bride and Prejudice

Morgan does something with accounting and right now is a particularly busy season. Honestly, it seems likeallthe seasons are busy for her. I wish right now she had some normal job that would let her take a last-minute trip with her best friend whose world just crashed.

Oh. My. Gosh. My world totally just crashed, didn’t it?

It feels like someone just gave my corset strings a vicious yank.

Morgan continues. “Going alone would be a chance to, I don’t know, come to grips with things. Make your plans for the future. Or the opposite: drink a thousand piña coladas with absolutely zero guilt and zero thought to the future.”

I can see the allure. There’s a tug of desire at the idea of escaping, for sure. Especially right now, when Van’s large SUV feels like a tiny clown car and the bodice of my dress just keeps tightening as Morgan keeps talking.

Suddenly I remember Becky’s comment about splitting my seams and there’s a sharp pain in my abdomen.

“Say something,” Morgan urges.

“I don’t know.”

Going on the honeymoon trip Drew and I—okay, mostly Drew—planned …alone?

While there are plenty of introverted people in the world who might love the idea of a solo vacation, the idea of even having dinner alone makes me break out in metaphorical hives. My circle might be small, but I like being around people.

Plus, it would feel like a slap-in-the-face reminder of being rejected by Drew. Being glad it’s over between us doesn’t take the edge off the humiliation of how it happened.

“You could always ask Restaurant Robbie to go with you,” Morgan suggests, her voice sounding sly. “He certainly seemedkeen on helping out earlier. Almost like hewantedto go with you.”

“That was different—he was just—I mean. No. That’s one thing. This would be … another.”

My face flushes. Not just my face—my neck and my chest too. I lean forward, yanking the temperature dial on my side of the car down. Van frowns and adjusts the vents to be blowing more in my direction. The tiny, thoughtful gesture has me biting the inside of my cheek.

“Suit yourself. But if it were me? I’d be asking that hunk of man to be my plus-one. I mean, the team has a break now, right? That’s why you and your dad picked this date—to work around your dad’s schedule?”

“Yeah, but … I don’t know.”

Dad actually put pressure on the team owner for this mini-break in hockey stuff before the playoffs. It served a dual purpose: leaving him time to enjoy my wedding but also giving the guys a much-needed break right before the last few games and then playoffs. Apparently, the team’s social media success means a lot of extra events on top of regular season games, and more than once, Dad has come home grumbling about them being overworked and overscheduled.

“My ticket isn’t until tomorrow,” I say.

“Get them to switch it. You can get out tonight. There’s one more flight leaving in three hours. You can make that.”

“I can’t pay to change the ticket,” I admit, though Morgan already knows my financial situation, which is categorically not great.

“I’ll happily help with anything. Call me. I’ll charge it to my card and you can pay me back.Do not argue,” she orders in a sharp voice as I start to protest. “I’ll help if you need it, and you’ve got enough to cover food, drinks, tips, whatever. Everything else is reserved and paid for, right?”

She knows it is. Because she knows too much about me. “You’ve really thought this through,” I say dryly.

“I’m not going to push you,” Morgan says.

I laugh, and it sounds just slightly tinged with hysteria. “Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing—pushing me? It’s kind of your trademark.”

“Look. I’m morally opposed to the idea of using another person as a rebound,” she says. “So, it’s not like I’m saying you need to go get wild with the Appies’ resident bad boy. But I think you’d be safer with him. And maybe have a better time than you would by yourself. I don’t like thinking of you alone. Van definitely seems like he’d bring the party. He’d keep you from wallowing, that’s for sure. What have you got to lose by asking?”

Nothing. I’ve already lost it all.

“I’ll meet you on the way to the airport. I’ll send a text to this number telling you where.” Morgan hangs up.

I drop Van’s phone back in the cupholder. He glances over, but I can’t look at him. How must I look right now? I’m sure my hair is falling out of its careful updo. My dress takes up half the car.

I’m suddenly aware of the garter, cutting into my upper thigh.

I hate the garter tradition and tried to talk Drew out of it, but he has a bunch of friends who think the garter toss is the best moment of any wedding. He joked that they were training for it like some kind of Olympic event. I’m sure it would have devolved into a drunken wrestling match.

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