Page 124 of Runaway Bride's Guide to Love

Literally. She said that phrase. I now know where I get my mouth from.

And as for my sisters? They welcomed Emmett with open arms. And they didn’t do it just because they’re my blood. Believe me, it took them years to warm up to Duncan, and even then they were never completely sold on him.

That should’ve been my first sign.

I think about Duncan from time to time, mostly because it’s funny that as much as I’d rather erase him from my memory and life, I know I wouldn’t be here without him. I hate to thank him for anything, but strangely, I do.

And Nadia. I thank Nadia regularly at our weekly lunches. At our last one, I told her that Duncan is serving a three-year sentence with the possibly of parole in eighteen months. He losthis law license and will be on house arrest for the remainder of his sentence if he does get paroled early.

Fitting that he’ll have to move back in with his mother, since the feds seized the condo. And his precious fucking whiskey.

That last one always made me smile.

“What are you cheesing about?” Maeve asks as we pull out of our parking spot in the mall after our day of shopping.

“Nothing particular,” I say. “Just how everything has turned out.”

“Yeah, it has been quite a year for you,” she says. “Hey, can you reach in the back and grab my sunglasses out of my purse?”

I do as she asks, doing my best not to fall as she pulls onto the freeway.

“Here you go.” I give her the sunglasses, and that’s when it dawns on me we’re not going to the right direction to Rolling Hills. “I thought we were going to Mom and Dad’s?”

She shakes her head and maneuvers into the middle lane. “I need to run home before we go, so I’m going to take you home. I’ll just meet you and Emmett there.”

“Oh,” I say. “Shit. I think he left already.”

“He didn’t,” Maeve said. “I texted him while you were checking out at the last store.”

“Oh,” I say, wondering why she didn’t tell me. “That’s fine. As long as he knows.”

We sit in silence for a few minutes as I check my phone, thanking the friends who I never talk to for an entire year except when they post on my Facebook feed to have a happy birthday. I scroll for a minute when I see an article pop up that draws my attention.

“Hey! Did you see the news about Logan Matthews?”

“Who’s that again?” Maeve asks.

“Who’s that?” I swear my sister lives under a rock. “The video game billionaire? The one who invented the game every kid in the world plays? Your son included?”

“Oh yeah, that guy,” she says. “What did he do now?”

“More likewhodid he do,” I say, skimming the article. “He was photographed with Sabrina Rome last month. And now last night it’s some model.”

“Why do we care?” Maeve asks.

“Because this is the fifth woman in three months he’s been spotted with.”

“Good for him? Sounds like another stereotypical billionaire playboy.”

“But see, that’s what I think they want us to think.”

“Who’s they?”

“They! The PR Machine!”

“Is that a new band?”

I roll my eyes. I swear my sister is thirty-six going on seventy.

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