Page 91 of Runaway Bride and Prejudice

No—I’m in the massive bed.

Amelia’s bed.

My head jerks to the side, painfully letting me know I have a crick in my neck. Another crick. The same crick. Who knows at this point.

The other side of the bed is empty. There’s an indentation in the pillow next to mine, and the sheets are pulled back like Amelia got out in a hurry. When I set my palm down, the sheets are cold.

My brain is still foggy, but the events of the night before come back to me, a flood of happy memories. Kissing Amelia on the beach. Dancing with the wedding party.

And then …

I bite my lip over a smile.

“Mills?” I call, my voice a gruff morning rumble.

The last few mornings, I woke to the smell of coffee, but it's not there now. Just the faint citrus scent from Amelia’s pillow. I lean over, inhaling as my eyes flutter closed.

“Amelia?” I call again, even as I notice the unnatural stillness, the reverberating quiet.

A hazy dread settles over me like smog as I climb out of bed, pulling a pair of shorts on over my briefs. The bathroom door is ajar, and my unease settles slightly as I see Amelia’s toiletries still on the counter.

She hasn’t left.

Why would I assume she had?

I shake my head. She wouldn’t go. Not after this week, after last night. She probably went to get us breakfast. A surprise for our last morning.

Our last morning.

Yesterday, I woke up with dread thinking about leaving. Now … hope buoys me. There will be complications, of course, like talking to Coach—Amelia’s dad—whom I’ve been ignoring now for days, other than quick texts saying things are fine. He won’tbe happy but … I’ll make it work. I’ll tell him how I feel, convince him it’s not some kind of fluke. Amelia will help.

It will be fine.

When I pick up my phone, opening our text thread, I’m surprised to see a new one from him. It didn’t show up as unread, so I must have opened it last night.

Thanks for babysitting Amelia,it reads.I owe you one. Consider your old spot yours again. I’m putting Dominik back in his line.

That’s … good, I guess. But I’m surprised to find I don’t actually care about my position. What I really don’t like is him still thinking this week was mebabysitting. I’ll have to tell him that too—I didn’t come here for him.

I came forher.

Thoughts of Amelia have my stomach swooping happily. I need to see her. To have my fingertips on her skin, my mouth on hers again. When she gets back, I hope she doesn’t mind if breakfast is not what I’m in the mood for.

Feeling better with every step, I saunter out of the bedroom, scratching my stomach with a yawn. I scan the room, heading for the table, where I can see a folded paper, ripped right from Amelia’s yellow notebook by the looks of it.

Smiling, I pick up the folded paper withVanin loopy cursive across the front. Even her handwriting is cute. I shake my head grinning as I wonder how she turned me into a sentimental schmuck so fast. The guys willneverlet me live this down.

No regrets.

Other than waking up alone. If it were me, spending the day in bed with room service sounds better than getting dressed to hunt down breakfast.

But Amelia probably has some surprise in store, something to celebrate?—

My thoughts skid to a halt and my smile slips away as I read the note.

Van,

Didn’t mean to snoop but saw my dad’s text. You can consider your babysitting job officially over. Enjoy having your spot back. Last night was clearly a mistake.

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