Page 88 of The Runaway Bride of Blitzen Bay (Blitzen Bay)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

NOELLE

December 26

Los Angeles, California

“Are you going to say anything?”

Lola picked me up at the inn about thirty minutes ago. We’re at least halfway back to my apartment. I haven’t said anything the entire trip.

“What?” I say, looking over at her for the first time. I’ve been staring down at my lap.

“You told me when you texted last night that you weren’t upset about breaking up with Steve.” She reaches over and takes my hand. “You seem pretty upset.”

“Oh,” I say, shaking my head. “This isn’t about Steve. Uh, I met someone in Blitzen Bay.”

“Really? Okay. And this sadness is about him?”

I rub my hand over my face and sigh. “I’m not sure. I’m so confused right now. Can we not talk about it?”

“Yes, for now, but when you’re ready, we’re going to talk about it, okay?”

I nod and smile at her. “Tell me about Howie’s parents’ anniversary party.”

“Oh, girl,” she says, laughing. “It was horrible.”

She’s laughing and telling me about his relatives. I’m nodding and smiling at the appropriate times, but I’m not hearing a word she’s saying. I’m thinking about Nash.

After last night, I tossed and turned all night in bed. I couldn’t think straight. I wanted to run to his house and jump into bed with him and never leave. It excited me. It scared me. It made my mind way more muddled.

Despite trying to think of every way to avoid it, I knew I had to leave Blitzen Bay and get back to L.A. Although I don’t want to be alone, I know I need some time to myself to get my mind clear again. I should have told Nash I was leaving, but I ran out just like I did with Steve. I’ve never run out on anything in my entire life and now I’ve run out on two guys in the past week. At least this time, I left a note.

“Noelle?” Lola’s shaking my arm. “Do you want me to come upstairs with you?”

I suddenly realize we’re in my apartment parking lot.

“No, no. I’m good.” I smile as I pull her in for a hug. “I really appreciate you coming to get me, Lo, especially the day after Christmas. It’s just way above and beyond the rules of the friendship code.”

She’s squinting her eyes as she taps her fingers on her lips. “I don’t like this. I’ve never seen you this out of it. I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine.” I try to smile. “It’s been a long week. I need to curl up in bed and get some sleep.”

“Okay,” she says slowly. “I’ll leave, but I want your cousin’s phone number first. What’s her name? Kat?”

“Kit. Why do you want her number?”

“Because she seems to be your biggest support system. I’m going to need to run your recovery plan through her for approval.”

“My what?”

She puts her hand on my shoulder. “Sweetie, I know you did the right thing and you know you did the right thing, but it’s still a traumatic event and you’re going to crash. That’s normal. Crash as hard as you need to, but then we’re going to need to start putting the pieces back together. I’m here for you. Kit’s here. We’ll figure it out together, okay?”

I nod. “I’ll text you her number. Maybe we can do a group text to talk about how screwed up my life is right now.”

“You’re going to be fine. Just get some rest to start with—maybe yoga this weekend.”

I stand in the parking lot and wave to her as she drives away. I look up at the second-floor balcony that attaches to our apartment. I guess Steve took the patio furniture that used to be there. He bought it, so I guess that’s fair. He can have it. I’m glad I bought the bed and the couch because I need about two days straight of just sleep.

When I open the apartment door, all I see is an empty room. I think I have the wrong apartment for a second until I look down and see my yoga mat, rolled up in the basket by the door. That’s all that’s in the living room—no couch, no rugs, no tables, no pictures. It looks like the Who’s house after the Grinch empties them of everything.

I walk down the hall and peek into our bedroom. It’s empty, too, except for a few wires that hang from the wall where the TV used to be. The tears start rolling down my cheeks. I open my closet. It looks untouched. I open Steve’s. It’s packed from floor-to-ceiling with our wedding gifts.

I reach out and touch one of the boxes—an air fryer. I stare at it for a minute before I sink to the ground. My body starts shaking. The tears start pouring down my face. I crawl back into the living room and unroll my yoga mat. I curl up and cover myself with the coat Nash bought me.

---