Page 94 of Runaway Bride and Prejudice

Don’t fall for a rebound.You might find yourself tempted to attach all those unmoored emotions to another, new person. Resist. Give yourself time to heal first, to make sure your feelings are real. Otherwise … you might find yourself running away from one relationship to another.

Runaway brides out there, I see you! And I’ve been in your shoes. Follow for more tips and share if anyone you know has run orneedsto run. My inbox is open if you need to talk. <3

CHAPTER 18

Amelia

I’m sittingat the kitchen table, staring down at a piece of toast buttered so well it glistens, when Dad drops a kiss on my head. I try to arrange my face into a smile that doesn’t look deranged or clownish. Or like a deranged clown.

He’s pretending things are normal, I think in an attempt to help me heal from what happened with Drew.

I’m pretending I don’t know about his deal with Van. And also like I didn’tmarryVan.

It’s been almost two weeks since I left him in Florida and it still feels like someone took a rusty chainsaw to my heart.

Finding out my dad essentially traded a spot on a line—whateverthatis—to one of his players in exchange for “babysitting” me is tough to stomach.

I mean, IknowDad had my best interests at heart. Always. Even in this.

Morgan told me all the things he did for me while I was gone, from calling lawyers to see if it’s possible to legally holdDrew accountable for wedding costs to returning gifts to fielding phone calls—and all this at his busiest time of the year with playoffs around the corner.

I also know it’s killing Dad to be at odds with his brother. And to see Becky, a niece he’d always adored, do something so disloyal and awful. He’s hurting. I know he doesn’t want me to see his pain. To worry about him when he’s worried about me.

It makes me sad.

I am also still mad.

Which makes me feel guilty.

I am a quagmire of messy, ugly feelings. And that’s without taking into consideration all the conflicting emotions I have about Van.

So, Dad and I are riding this weird carousel around and around. Playing parts, keeping secrets. Pretending we’re both fine.

“I packed you a lunch,” Dad says, pulling an insulated bag from the fridge. One I’ve never seen before and I bet he bought just for this occasion. It has Taylor Swift on it and sparkles as he sets it down in front of me.

A few months ago, I’d have laughed and tried to explain that loving Taylor’s music and respecting her business savvy doesnotmean I want a Taylor Swift lunch bag. Especially not on my first day at a new job.

Eventually, though, I would have given up trying to explain, hugged him, and saidThank you, Daddylike a good daughter.

Now, my stomach clenches at his attempted kindness. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“Don’t worry—I didn’t cook.”

“Let’s hope not.”

I’m not amazing in the kitchen, but between the two of us, my dad is the one most likely to start a fire in the microwave. Heprobably stuck a Lunchables and a cheese stick inside the bag like I’m seven again.

He chuckles, and I find myself smiling back for half a second before it falls. It’s hard not to drop back into our normal back and forth. Even when nothing feels normal.

I watch Dad’s face as he takes a sip of coffee. As my one little act of passive aggressive retaliation for the deal he made with Van, I’ve been watering down his coffee. Every day, I add a little more water, a little less coffee.

Stupid, I know. But I take the smallest bit of pleasure in this tiny, immature act. It’s not like I’mhurtinghim. It’s barely even a prank.

Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, I’ve never reallyplayedpranks. Even on April Fool’s Day. Pranks are not for rule-followers.Morganis the type to play pranks.Iam the type to worry about getting caught or the consequences.

---