Page 19 of Runaway Bride's Guide to Love

“What girl?”

“The bachelorette." Tiger relaxes into the sofa."That was me just a few months ago, only my bachelorette party was in Miami. I had the same sash. Same tiara. Hell, I think we were wearing the same dress. It was like I was looking in a mirror.”

I resist making the comment that she's ten times more beautiful than Bachelorette Barbie.

“You’re not her,” I say. There. The truth. Just...disguised a bit.

She looks at me like I’m an idiot. “That’s where you’re wrong, Cap. I’m that girl down to the perfume and expensive jewelry. But thanks for trying to make me feel better."

I don't know what else I can say—if there is even anything to say—so I choose not to. I usually default to silence, but I have afeeling on most days that's not how Tiger operates. But in this moment, I think it's the remedy she needs.

I don't know how much time passes by when I hear an adorable snore. When I look over to see Tiger, passed out, still in her wedding dress, hair a mess, I can't help but smile. I know this has been the shittiest day of her life, and tomorrow might be shittier, when she goes back to reality, but I hope she wasn't lying when she said I made it a little less horrible.

Because this was one of the best days I've had in quite a while.

I carefully move her and do my best to gently pick her up. She stirs a little, but finds a nook in my shoulder to lay her head as I walk her down the hallway to my bedroom. I'd take her to my guest room, but I'm ninety percent surethere aren’t sheets on the bed. Most of the time that room is the place I store things when I don’t know where else to put them. Plus, the girl has been through it; the least I can do is let her sleep in a comfortable bed.

She stirs a little when I lay her down on top of my comforter. Her cell phone falls out of the pocket of the dress, so I plug it in and set it on the nightside table. I head to my closet and grab an extra blanket, along with a pair of boxer shorts and a T-shirt. I lay the clothing next to her, figuring when she wakes up tonight she can put them on. I drape the blanket over her, tucking in the edges around the massive gown.

“Goodnight, Tiger. I know it doesn’t mean much, but I’m proud of you.”

I brush her hair off her forehead before walking to the door, careful to leave it just a sliver open to let some light in. I’m sure when she wakes up she’s going to be confused and disoriented.

And honestly, I think I’ll be the same way.

Because this might have been the most random, strange, and memorable day I’ve ever had in my life.

guide to love rule #30

If you’re going to do the walk of shame,

at least make it a good story.

6

stella

“I now pronounceyou Mr. and Mrs. Duncan Hughes. You may kiss the bride.”

I lean in to kiss Duncan, except he’s not there. Where’d he go? I turn to where the guests are sitting, only to see them pointing and laughing. I look back to my sisters, who are in a line next to me, but none of them are making eye contact. What’s going on? Why are they laughing? Where’s Duncan?

Wait. Is that Nadia standing in the back, swatting a whip against the palm of her hand? And next to her is Bachelorette Barbie, who looks smug as hell. Wait! Is her arm linked through Cap’s?

What in the actual hell is going on?

I let out a gasp as I jolt awake, breathing heavy as I sit up in bed, desperate to leave that hellish dreamscape behind. I pull the fleece blanket up to my chin, like it’s going to protect me from the dream that featured every character from yesterday’s hell.

Wait, why do I have a blanket? Where am I? My head is pounding. There’s a sliver of light coming through the curtains, which allows me to see that I’m in a light gray room with strategically placed pictures on the wall. There’s a couple dressers, but no other furniture. This room screams minimalist bachelor pad.

Wait! Is this…shit…is this Cap’s room? I bet it is. The last part of the night takes center stage in my mind. The singing and dancing, the falling, Cap carrying me out of the bar, then into his house. I remember Sad Girl Stella coming out for an appearance. But that’s the last I remember.

Did I pass out? Did we…no. We couldn’t have. I wouldn’t have. He wouldn’t have. At least I don’t think.

Right? I mean, I would have remembered something like that. God, I hope I would’ve. Because I have a feeling that man would be unforgettable.

But to be safe, I check under the blanket, just to make sure everything is where it should be.

I don’t know if it’s a good or bad thing that I’m still wearing the hideous wedding dress.

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