Page 32 of Runaway Bride and Prejudice

It feels stupid to go.

It feels cruel not to.

I wouldn’t let any of my sisters go alone.

But I don’t feel particularlysisterlyabout Amelia.

Will I be able to resist Amelia if I spend days on end with her?

Will I be able to live with myself knowing she’s possibly breaking down when she’s all alone?

By the time I pull up to the curb, my stomach feels like I’ve been downing shots of battery acid.

Amelia wakes up with a wide yawn, looking adorably sleep-rumpled. “Are we there already? I must have fallen asleep.”

“My dad always used to call that time traveling. When you’d fall asleep while driving or flying and then wake up at your destination.”

Amelia grins. “Time traveling. I love it.”

Her smile fades as she glances up at the airport doors. They slide open as a woman with two children and ten bags waddles through. A woman follows, and is swept off her feet and into a passionate kiss by a man holding up a sign.

“Well. I guess this is it.”

“I’ll help with your bags,” I say, needing something to do.

But when I get the bags up on the curb, I realize Amelia hasn’t gotten out of the car. I step closer to her window, then gesture for her to roll it down. She does, but she won’t meet my gaze.

“What’s up, Mills?” I ask, leaning on the car.

“I don’t know about this,” she says, glancing past me toward the various travelers saying their goodbyes and filing into the airport with their bags.

“Which part? Talk me through it.”

She nibbles at her bottom lip, and I force my gaze away from her mouth.

“The part where I’m about to get out of your car wearing a wedding dress and look like the jilted bride traveling alone. And the whole idea—I mean, I should probably stay and help Morgan and my dad sort through the mess. Taking a vacation right now feels … weird.”

The tightness returns to my chest. No one has ever accused me of being a bleeding heart. But maybe it’s because I don’t choose to show that side to many people. Just my sisters, who know all my secrets. And hold them over my head often. With glee.

Which might be why I don’t share with many other people.

“Hey.” I touch Amelia’s chin, lifting it until she meets my eyes. I don’t like the indecision I see there. “There’s nothing jilted about you. Okay? What happened today had zero to do with you and everything to do with Drew’s poor choices. You get that?”

She nods, but her eyes only gain a fraction of the brightness they held before. “Yeah. You’re right.”

She still doesn’t get out of the car, and I see her fiddling with her ring again. Walking into the airport in a wedding dress will certainly draw attention. Attention and questions to answer. Which is probably the last thing she wants right now.

“Hang tight,” I say. Tossing her bags back into the car, I jog around to my seat and then follow signs for the parking decks.

“Where are we going?” she asks.

I snag a ticket from the machine on the way into the lot, then find a spot between two parked trucks. I cut off the engine and turn to Amelia. “You can change in here. The windows are tinted, and now you’ve got cover on both sides. I’ll stand guard in back, just in case.”

“Thank you.” She reaches across, squeezing my arm again. “Could you maybe bring me my clothes? I have what I was planning to wear after the reception on top in the smaller rolling suitcase.”

“Yep.”

I open the back again, unzip the smaller rolling back and see a skirt and folded shirt … with a bra and underwear right on top that I’m desperately trying to ignore.

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