Page 24 of Runaway Bride's Guide to Love

Don’t get me wrong, I love my sisters with my entire being. I’d give them kidneys. I’ll fight for and with them any day of the week. Hurt one of us? You hurt us all. But I don’t know right now if I can take Maeve’s need to be the second mother or Quinn’s directness.

Then again, I eventually need to get out of this bed, and if anyone can help me do that, it’s my sisters.

“Come in,” I say as I push myself to a sitting position. I know my hair is a mess, and I’m sure my face is an absolute train wreck, but bless their hearts— they don’t say anything. Instead they circle me on the bed, each giving me some sort of comforting gesture.

“I’d ask how you’re doing, but I know the answer is ‘shitty’ so I’ll skip the formality.”

Yup. Direct Quinn is here. “I appreciate it.”

“Even though we know the answer, that doesn’t mean we’re not worried about you,” Maeve says as she wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Stella Banks doesn’t cry like this, which means I’m guessing there’s more to the story.”

Leave it to all my sisters to see right through me. Which isn’t surprising. There are no other people on this planet who know me better than the three women sitting on my bed. There might be roughly eight years between me and Maeve, with Quinn and Ainsley falling in the middle, but the differences in age have never stopped us from being in tune with each other.

And many times doing it sitting in one of our beds, just like this.

I remember the first council meeting of the Banks sisters happening when I was around eight. Maeve was going into her senior year of high school and Ainsley and I heard a sound we’d never heard before—Maeve was crying.

Maeve didn’t—and doesn’t—cry.

So, being the curious little sisters we were, we walked into her room to see her with her head in Quinn’s lap, crying like we’d never seen her before. Ainsley and I laid next to Maeve, holding her hands as Quinn brushed her hair off her face. It was over a boy—because they sucked then just like they suck now. I don’t remember what was exactly said during that first bed talk, or even who the guy was that made the big bad Maeve Banks cry, but I do remember the feeling of knowing that we had a bond that was rare.

We were friends. Best friends.

And God help the man that fucks with one of the Banks sisters.

“Yes, I’m mad at Duncan. The money and the lying and the cheating were obviously the reasons I ran. But I’m more mad at myself.”

“How on Earth are you mad at yourself?” Maeve asks. “You did nothing wrong.”

I shake my head. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

“I’m going to need you to elaborate,” Quinn says. “Because unless you hired the woman to spank him, then I don’t see how this falls back on you.”

I grab a tissue to blow my nose as I gather how I want to tell this to my sisters. “It’s not the lying and the cheating that are my fault. I know that. But, part of me wonders because I let go of who I was during this relationship that maybe if I hadn’t, I would’ve seen clues to his lying and cheating. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” Maeve says. “I think. Before I weigh in, I want you to elaborate. I don’t want to assume your headspace right now.”

I do appreciate Maeve wanting clarification. She usually just weighs in whenever she wants. “I don’t know if there are specific examples. I just know who I was when Duncan and I met and who I was days before the wedding. I found out he had stolen thousands of dollars from me, and us, and I was going to stay with him. I told him we’d figure it out. All because I needed to get married so badly that I was willing to ignore a glaring red flag.”

“That’s not a red flag,” Quinn says. “That’s a full-on flashing neon sign that was saying ‘get the fuck out of this.’”

“Exactly. It was inches from my face, and I completely ignored it.”

“The Stella I know wouldn’t have done that,” Ainsley says. “You once chased a frat boy down the street because he walked out on a tab and you felt bad for the waitress. You jumped on his back and started beating him until he agreed to come back and pay.”

“She didn’t deserve that,” I say hotly.

“And neither did you,” Maeve says. “But I want to ask you about something you said. You said you needed to get married. Why?”

I wasn’t expecting that question. “What do you mean, why?”

I know the answer, I just really don’t want to say it in front of my sisters because I know how it’s going to sound.

Pathetic. Weak. Sad.

And those aren’t the words we use to describe the Banks sisters.

“No. You’re not going to get off that easy,” Maeve says. “Why did you need to get married? Who was pressuring you?”

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