Page 21 of Runaway Bride's Guide to Love

Stella: I'm good. I'll call a Lyft.

Mom: Have it come to our house. I'll cook breakfast. Everyone come over.

Maeve: Wow, we get a Sunday breakfast out of this? Thanks,Stella!

Stella: Glad to help the cause. I'll be there in an hour.

Dad: See you then, sweetheart.

I laugh at my dad's last message—he's always the one to end the conversations, and usually it's the only text he sends—as I swing my legs over and reluctantly get out of bed. I somehow maneuver out of the dress, ripping it in the process, and put on the most comfortable pair of boxer shorts and T-shirt I've ever felt against my skin.

Then again, they aren't made of lace and tulle and taffeta, so it has to be a step up.

I ball the dress under my arm and grab my phone as I quietly leave the room. I happen to see a door open across the hall and peek in to see a passed-out Cap on a bare mattress that is way too tiny for him, rolled up in a blanket, his dog laying at the foot of the bed.

He let me sleep in his bed. How in the world is this man single?

I want to thank him, but I also don't want to wake him up, so I tiptoe down the hall of his ranch-style home and luckily end up in the living room. I snag my high heels before walking to the kitchen island. I order a Lyft, and while I wait, I find a scrap piece of paper and a pen because I need to say thank you, even if I can't do it in person.

Cap — Prince Charming is pretty spot on. Thanks for everything yesterday. I'll never forget you -- Tiger.

And it's true. I won't. Never in a million years.

I had a mantra in college: If you're going to do a walk of shame,you better have a good story behind it. And the hookup better have been worth it.

I have the story. It might not be good but it's...something. And even though I didn’t have the hookup, meeting Cap was definitely worth it.

Except now I’m doing a walk of shame at my parents’ house.

In my defense, this is so many degrees above a walk of shame there isn’t a name for it. I highly doubt anyone in the world has had to walk into their childhood home, wearing a strange man's T-shirt and clothes, hair and makeup a mess, and carrying their wedding dress under their arm.

Yup. This is the worst walk of shame to ever shamefully shame.

With one more deep breath, I tuck the dress securely under my arm and enter my parents’ house.

And I’m met with silence.

If there's one thing to know about the Banks family, it's that we're never quiet. Loud is an understatement. With five kids, and one of them being my brother Simon, there was never a moment of peace. I don't even know if it was silent when we were all sleeping.

I was nervous before to tell everyone what happened. Now? I’m slightly terrified.

"Hello?"

No one answers as I walk down the front hallway. That’s when I start to hear whispers coming from the family room.

“What are we going to say? We need to be gentle, especially since we don’t know what state of mind she’s in.” That comes from Ainsley, which makes sense. She's the most empathetic of my siblings.

"How about 'what the fuck did Duncan do so I can kill him?’”

"That's not how we're going to start this, Simon," Maeve says.

"Can we just come out and ask? I feel like a rip the Band-Aid off approach might work." I giggle under my breath at Quinn's suggestion. She's the most blunt of the siblings. A true middle child if there ever was one.

"Really?" Maeve asks. “Just dive right in?"

"No, not exactly," Quinn says. "Maybe like,'Hey Stella. You okay? Want some leftover wedding cake?'"

"Quinn, that is the absolute worst idea I've ever heard," Maeve says. "And Simon is here, which should really say something."

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