Page 61 of Runaway Bride and Prejudice

CHAPTER 12

Amelia

“Let me get this straight,”Morgan says. “Drew and Becky checked into the honeymoon suite this morning but Restaurant Robbie drove them out with a pitchfork?”

“Van. Yes. But without the pitchfork.”

“A flaming torch?” she asks hopefully. “A sword?”

“Just with words. And possibly some threats.”

“Okay,” Morgan says. “I can believe it. But now you’re sharing the honeymoon suite with Restaurant Robbie?—”

“Van.”

“—because they didn’t have any other rooms.”

“Correct.”

Morgan is quiet for a beat. I’m sitting on the balcony, still in my pajamas, watching the beach below. Sweating a little because even in the shade with a fan overhead, it’s a hot, cloudless day. A beautiful, ripe peach of a day, ready for the plucking.

But I’m alone in the gorgeous, airy honeymoon suite, hanging on the balcony watching other people living resort livesdown below while I’m huddled out here on a call with my best friend. In somewhat of a panic, I might add.

Van left almost an hour ago for the fitness center, claiming he needed to get in a quick work out.

Which could be true. It probably is. I mean, hockey is his job, so needing to work out makes logical sense.

But he was quiet after we left the lobby. After what he said to Drew in the lobby.

Quiet on the ride back up to the tiny room we shared last night. Quiet while I packed.Reallyquiet when the front desk called up to say he would need to check out of this room as the hotel is completely booked. Quiet as we moved all of our stuff—still in Walmart bags—up to this suite, which is like five times the size of where we stayed last night.

Despite that, when the door closed behind us, I swear the room felt more like a closet.

Because after what Van said to Drew in front of half the hotel, something shifted for me, but also based on his uncharacteristic silence, for him. For us.

Or maybe he regrets what he said? Or regrets that I overheard?

If Amelia were mine? I’d never let her go.

The tug of longing in my chest nearly bowled me over as I listened to Van’s words.

Yesterday, he asked if I was just marrying Drew because my dad wanted me to, and I said no. And it’s true. Drew’s bad behavior didn’t strangle out my desire for marriage. I still want to have what Dad and Mom did—almost as badly as Dad wants that for me.

I think I wanted it so badly in fact, I focused on thewhatand picked the wrongwho.

And now … I don’t think I’m stupid to imagine Van as a potentialwho. I felt it the night we met—this instant connection,a spark of something bigger. There was something different between us then, and the same something is different now.

The problem isn’t thewho; it’s thewhen.

How can I trust my feelings after they’ve been put through a wood chipper?

I know I’m a complete mess. Even if I don’t feel it yet.

“I’m not sure whether I should warn you away from having a rebound or cheer you on,” Morgan says, almost like she portaled into my brain and rooted around in my thoughts.

I flinch at the wordrebound. That’s not who Van is. Not who I want him to be, anyway.

“What if,” I ask slowly, glancing behind me at the empty suite just to be sure Van hasn’t returned. “What if Van is more than a rebound?”

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