Page 41 of The Runaway Bride of Blitzen Bay (Blitzen Bay)

Chapter Twenty

NOELLE

December 23

Blitzen Bay, California

Do you know how badly you hurt Steve? What were you thinking? He’s devastated.

I throw my phone down. It’s eight in the morning. I’ve been in bed for almost ten hours—nine hours of near-comatose sleep and one hour of wide-awake agony. Over the last hour, I’ve been pouring through the hundreds of texts from friends and family that arrived as I slept. This one’s from Carissa—my maid-of-honor—who’s come down firmly on Steve’s side.

Mom left me five voicemails—each of them louder and more hysterical than the one before. I stopped listening to them after number three. She sounded like she was losing her voice from screaming too much. Her voice was raspy, desperate, and disturbing. She said if I didn’t call her back, she would ‘kill me.’

Steve’s sent me twelve texts ranging from apologetic to apocalyptic. I haven’t responded to him either. I told him I needed time to think, but I guess he’s not ready to give that to me. His last text came about three hours ago. It was just a line of question marks.

Kit’s text is the only one that’s made me feel at all supported.

Get some sleep. Take a breath. Be nice to yourself. You did the right thing. Just think about what you need, what you want. Everyone else can take care of themselves. I’ll call you later. I love you.

My phone beeps again. It’s Steve. I can’t deal with it. I’m so tired. I cuddle further down underneath the overstuffed duvet. My head sinks back into the mounds of silky pillows. If I’m going to be miserable, this is the place to do it. I don’t think I’ve ever been so comfortable or warm. I’d like to disappear into this bed and never come out, but I need to get some winter clothes if I’m going to stay in Blitzen Bay for a few days.

Reluctantly, I pull back the cover. I’m still wearing the fluffy robe and socks I put on after my long shower last night. I was too exhausted to take a shower at all, but Claire convinced me I wouldn’t want to wake up to my wedding hair and makeup. I look in the mirror—clean hair, no makeup. She was right.

I pull back the floor-to-ceiling, ice-blue velvet curtains on the picture window. They are the perfect frame for the wonderland I see before me. The snow’s coming down harder than it was last night. The white lights outlining the chalets are twinkling through the snowflakes. I feel like I’ve landed in a Swiss alpine village. It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.

A few cars are driving through town, but I can’t hear anything. Either this room is incredibly well-insulated or Blitzen Bay is the quietest place on earth. My apartment in L.A. is loud all day long—beeping horns, sirens, airplanes flying overhead. I’m so used to the noise that this level of quiet seems almost abnormal. I take a long, slow breath. I think I could probably get used to it.

One of the buildings across the street has the sign—“General Store”—hanging from its eaves. It’s right next to a coffee shop. I don’t know what I’m going to do with the rest of my day, but winter clothes and coffee are a good start.

I throw on Izzy’s clothes and the jacket Nash loaned me. The jacket still smells like him. I grab my phone again and scroll through the messages. None from him. My heart skips a beat. I feel inexplicably sad. I barely know him. I can’t expect him to take care of me. It’s probably for the best that he hasn’t texted. I need to concentrate on my future. Now is not the time for fantasizing about a stranger, no matter how good he smells.

When I open my room door, I almost trip over a pair of boots. There’s a note on them:

Good morning, Noelle! You can borrow my boots until you get your own. Use them as long as you want. I have several pair. Let me know what else you need. Just ask!! Claire

Everyone’s so nice in this town. It seriously might be the California version of Brigadoon—another one of Grandma’s favorite movies. I wonder if Blitzen Bay is going to disappear when I leave—like Brigadoon does in the movie—and all of these lovely people right along with it. Maybe none of this is real. It seems too good to be true, especially Nash. No one is that sweet. I slap myself on the cheeks a few times to try to get him out of my head.

As soon as I walk out of the inn, I hear his voice behind me. “Elle!”

Even though it’s freezing, just the sound of his voice makes a soothing warmth shoot through my body. I turn around to see him holding two coffee cups.

“Please tell me one of those is for me.”

He smiles and hands me one. I take a sip and realize I’m not drinking coffee.

“This is peppermint hot chocolate,” I say, looking at his blushing face.

He looks down and mumbles, “I mean, you said your grandma used to make it for you and, you know, that it was one of your favorite memories of Christmas. I thought it would maybe get you back in the holiday spirit.”

I throw my arms around him and bury my face underneath his open coat. His chest feels warm and strong.

“You’re the sweetest person.”

He wraps his arms around me gently. “I know a long list of people who would strongly disagree with that.”

“Well, they don’t know you as well as I do.”

“Yeah, that must be it.” He laughs and takes his arms from around me. “You’re shivering. We need to get you some warmer clothes.”

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