Page 7 of Desperately Seeking Mr. Darcy

“We’ll find someone else to go,” she says.

“It’s fine,” I tell her. I mean, the thought of flying by myself, figuring out the train, and talking to strangers alone doesn’t sound all that fun, but I’ve navigated worse. “I’ll do my best not to get kidnapped.”

“That’s not funny,” Amelia says, tapping me lightly on the shoulder before getting up. I stay face down on the sofa—the kind I could never afford. I’m pretty sure every piece in this condo would bankrupt me.

“I’m ordering Thai food,” Amelia yells from the kitchen.

“I’m having ramen for dinner,” I yell back.

“No, you are not,” she says.

Amelia’s stubborn, especially when it comes to feeding me, and honestly, I can’t argue right now. Like, literally, I can’t. I’m stuck on this couch.

I know it’s the gift giver in her but accepting her kindness is hard. Especially since she’s letting me stay, free of charge, in the guest room of the condo she shares with her brother, Zane. I’ve been here three months, which is two and a half months longer than I planned. No one’s complained (at least not to my face), and I’ve asked so many times if I’m still welcome that Amelia has had to reassure me, “I’ll let you know if you over stay your welcome.” Still, I hate feeling like a burden. As soon as I get back from Pride and Prejudice Park, finding my own place is priority number one. It’s not like I haven’t tried, but decent apartments are either too expensive or require a roommate—and let’s just say my experience with roommates hasn’t been stellar.

I thought I had lucked out with my last roommate, Sienna, until she and my ex, Caleb, fell in love and decided to move in together, effectively kicking me out. Oh, and Caleb was still my boyfriend when they broke the news. So that was fun.

This was the second time I’ve found myself homeless, since I couldn’t move in with my mom because she had to sell her place to afford the court-mandated rehab she was ordered to go back into (this particular info was the straw that broke the panic attack), and so Amelia offered up her guest room. Coincidentally, it was the Porters who stepped in to help the first time my mom had to go to rehab. It was my freshman year of high school, and I was only supposed to stay with them for a year, but when Mom was deemed unfit to care for me and my dad was out of the picture, I ended up spending all four years of school with Amelia and her family. I owe them so much, and now I keep adding “Amelia buying dinner” to that list.

At least Amelia’s job pays well. It helps with the sting when she insists. And, of course, so does the food. She’s also an heiress of sorts, since her parents’ company, Foothills Stoneworks, a high-end stone masonry business, is ridiculously successful. Amelia and Zane will inherit a fortune one day. A tidy sum for Amelia, and the entire company for Zane. They get generational wealth, while I inherit a strong genetic propensity for mental illness. Lucky me.

After wallowing for a while, I roll off the couch—literally—and change into my sweats. By the time I pull my hair into a messy bun and slip on a T-shirt that saysI Can’t, I Have Rehearsal, the condo smells like onions, garlic, and curry. When I step into the living room, Amelia’s in comfy clothes too, her dark hair styled the same as mine. She’s arranged a delicious spread of Thai food on the coffee table, and the 2005Pride and Prejudicemovie is paused, waiting to play.

“I think we should run away together,” I tell her as she hands me a plate.

“You know I would, but I think Garrett would have a problem with that,” she says, giving me a little smirk.

Ah, Garrett. Amelia’s boyfriend of two years. I started dating cheating Caleb around the same time she met Garrett. We dreamed of double dates, married life, and buying houses next door to each other where our kids would be forced to be best friends.

But Garrett and Caleb never got along. Probably because Caleb’s a douchebag, and Garrett ... well, he’s kind of a douchebag too. Don’t tell Amelia I said that, but it’s true. Put two douchebags together, and they’ll spend all their time trying to out-douchebag each other.

At least Garrett didn’t fall in love with Amelia’s roommate and kick her out. That would’ve been awkward—especially since, until I moved in, Amelia’s only roommate has been her brother.

“WhereisGarrett?” I ask, looking around the room as if he might pop out from behind one of the couches, wearing a polo because he’s always in a polo. He’s also always here.

“He’s in San Diego golfing with some clients,” Amelia says.

Garrett sells medical supplies, I’m pretty sure. I tend to tune him out when he talks about work. Whatever it is, it involves a lot of schmoozing and taking clients out to overpriced dinners and expensive rounds of golf.

“You know,” Amelia says, her lips twisting to the side. The face she makes when she’s up to something. “I bet Garrett would go to Pride and Prejudice Park with you.”

“What?” I ask, surprised. She can’t be serious.

“Do you want me to ask him?”

Amelia thrives on solving problems before they even exist. I, on the other hand, need to marinate in my chaos a bit beforetaking action. But she’s already in full fixer mode, and there’s no stopping her once she gets going.

“Um, that’s ... okay,” I say, trying not to sound offensive, because there’s no way. I am not spending a week with Garrett Gunderson reenactingPride and Prejudice. If I wanted a douchebag to go with me, I’d call Caleb. There’s no free trip in the world that moocher wouldn’t jump on.

Besides, Garrett is no Darcy. He’s more of a Wickham—or better yet, a Collins. Definitely a Collins. He’d be the type to wax poetic about Lady Catherine’s superior connections and noble opinions. In Garrett’s case, though, it’s his highfalutin job and his “noble” golf swing. No, thanks.

“You wouldn’t have to go by yourself,” Amelia says.

How do I tell my best friend of twenty years that I can take care of myself? Even before the panic attack, Amelia was always trying to fix things, always trying to make everything better. I know she means well—I really do—but every time she steps in, it feels like she thinks I can’t handle my own life. And while, sure, sometimes I can’t, that doesn’t mean I need her swooping in to save me.

“Well, thanks, but ... don’t you think it would be kind of awkward to go with Garrett?” A straight-up “no” feels too harsh, so I try to drop a hint, hoping she’ll catch it.

“Why?” she asks, like I’m the one being ridiculous.

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