Page 29 of Runaway Bride and Prejudice

“Look—what you’ve been through today is really hard. Not everyone would sail through it unscathed. But I can already tellthat you can. You will. Youare. You’re going to make it out just fine.”

“Yeah?” she asks, glancing over at me. “You think?”

“Iknow,” I tell her, reluctantly removing my hand and putting it back on the wheel.

She gives my arm a last squeeze before curling her hands back in her lap. I drag my fingers through my hair, suddenly feeling hot.

“Whatever, Mills,” I say. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is, though. Everything you did for me today—it means a lot. Most people wouldn’t do this for a stranger.”

Amelia doesn’t feel like a stranger to me. And I’m not sure what to make of that. Or why it bugs me to hear her say it.

“Wait,” she says, turning to face me. “Did you just give me a nickname? You called me Mills.”

I think back. “So I did.” It just kind of slipped out. But I like it. “Is that okay? You already have a bunch of nicknames.”

“New rules, new nickname.” She grins over at me. “Mills is great. Do you have any other names or nicknames I should know about? Besides Robbie and Van.”

“The guys sometimes call me Vanity.”

This makes her cackle. “I can see why.”

I reach over like I’m about to pinch her again, and she swats my hand away. “Better than Ego, which is what they call Alec. He’s way too pretty for his own good. Also, I’m not vain. Just … confident.”

“Right. That’s what we’re calling it these days. Where does Van come from?”

“My full name is Robert Chaplain Van de Kamp.”

“That sounds very fancy. Is your family …” She trails off, and I can almost see her wrestling with how to ask politely if my family is as snooty as it sounds.

“Are they filthy rich snobs?” I suggest.

She laughs. “Yes, that.”

“Some of the Van de Kamps are big players in oil and gas. There’s a company in Houston, but my branch of the family is only loosely tied to it.”

“How does your oil and gas family feel about you playing hockey?”

“My sisters are supportive,” I say. “And I don’t really care about what my parents—or their spouses of the month think.”

I can tell she wants to ask more questions, and I’m relieved when she doesn’t. Talking about my parents’ many marriages would definitely ruin the mood. Mine, anyway.

“So, we’re meeting up with Morgan to get your bags, and then I’ll take you to the airport?”

“I guess that’s the plan.” Amelia deflates a little. “But Van—you don’t need to drive me. I can get an Uber or … pick up my car.” She pauses, drops her gaze to her lap. “I think it might be decorated. You know withJust Marriedin the windows and stuff. That will be fun.”

She laughs but doesn’t sound amused.

“I can see it now—me pulling up to the airport in that and getting out in my wedding dress. Alone.”

I hate that idea. And the way she seems to have deflated, even though I can tell she’s trying to hide it.

“I’ll take you to the airport,” I tell her, trying to keep my voice both firm but light. “I’m seeing this through. Yeah?”

Amelia nods quickly, but she doesn’t lift her head. Still sad. I want to distract her. To drag her out of whatever thought dungeon she’s locked herself up in. My stomach rumbling gives me an idea.

“What’s your getaway meal going to be?”

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