Page 31 of Runaway Bride and Prejudice

I glance toward the front seat. Amelia is twisted in her seat, watching us through the back window. I offer her a shrug. Glancing at Morgan, Amelia rolls her eyes and turns back around.

“Look,” Morgan says, lowering her voice. “I’m just concerned about her. She seems okay right now, but that’s what worries me. And I’m afraid if she goes alone, when she cracks, no one will be there to help pick up the pieces.”

“So, you don’t trust me, but you also want me to be that person?”

She purses her lips. “If I could, I’d go. But I can’t leave work. And I’m going to do my best to take care of all the un-fun stuff while she’s gone, so when she comes back, there will be less for her to do. It’ll be like the wedding never almost happened.” Shepauses and purses her lips. “You stepped in when a lot of guys would have walked away.”

“Thanks.”

“Also, you’re the only one I can think of.”

“I take back the thanks.”

“I don’t need it. I only need your assurance Amelia will be okay—ifyou change your mind and decide to go.”

“I won’t.”

“Okay.” She definitely doesn’t believe me.

Honestly, I’m not sureIbelieve me. I remember Amelia’s face when she tried to toss her garter out the window. The wide eyes and the slight shake in her hands. I think of how she keeps twisting the blue ring on her finger and burying her hands in her dress.

Then I try to imagine leaving her alone in front of the airport.

“But … if Ididhappen to go, she’d be safe with me.”

The five seconds—I count them—while Morgan watches me with cool gray eyes stretch long, making my fight or flight instincts pick up. I remember Amelia comparing Morgan to Liam Neeson earlier.

Finally, she nods. “Cool. Because I’d hate to have to hunt you down and make you suffer.”

“You and Coach both,” I mutter.

We stand there, both nodding at each other for a few seconds before I say, “Cool. So, um, can I go?”

Morgan steps back, waving her hand in a go ahead motion. “Yep.”

A tension I didn’t realize I’ve been holding releases with a slow exhale. Maybe too soon, as her dismissive wave turns into dragging her thumb across her neck in a terrifying warning.

Just as I’m about to open up the door, she says, “Oh, and keep her away from alcohol.”

“She’s a lightweight?”

Morgan laughs. “More than a lightweight. Treat her like a Gremlin. Except it’s not feeding after midnight; it’s anything more than a few sips of alcohol.”

“A Gremlin?” I frown, sure I’m missing a reference.

“Dude—I’m a little concerned if you don’t know basic pop culture references.”

“I’ll google it,” I tell her, then hop in the car.

“What are you googling?” Amelia eyes me curiously.

“Gremlins?”

“Classic movie,” Amelia says through a yawn. “Don’t get them wet or feed them after midnight.”

“Apparently,” I mutter, wondering how I’m the only one who doesn’t have an awareness ofGremlins.

Amelia dozes off on the way to the airport while my mind won’t stop racing, weighing the merits of going with her against the merits of not ticking off my coach by putting myself in a situation designed to test my self-control.

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