Page 27 of Runaway Bride's Guide to Love

I’ve been on the road for roughly two hours on my way to Florida, and this is only the third time I’ve thought about her. I think that’s an improvement. I don’t know what spell she put on me, but I can’t get her out of my head.

When I woke up Sunday morning, I knew she left. I just had a feeling. I mean, if it were me, I would’ve gotten the hell out of Dodge too. On the rare occasions I spend the night with a woman, I usually leave before the sun rises. And those nights weren’t fueled by the worst day of my life. So I don’t blame her one bit.

However, when I went to the kitchen and saw the note she left, I felt a pain I wasn’t expecting. I can’t describe it, but I know it wasn’t pleasant.

I shook that off and was fine for most of the day. That was until I sat down at night with my beer and my dog and turned on the television to an Avengers movie.

Fucking Captain America…

That was my sign that I needed to get the hell out of Nashville. I needed to get my mind right. On that same note, I hope Tiger’s taking some time as well. If it was me in her situation, I’d have been out of town the minute I ran from the wedding. A lying and cheating fiancé that you found out about right before the wedding? No one deserves that. Especially her.

Luckily, I can’t get too much more in my head about Tiger as I see my sister’s name on the dashboard signaling an incoming call.

“Winnie secured?”

I hear my dog barking in the background. So I guess the answer is yes. “Yes, she is. I always forget how much she loves car rides.”

“They’re one of her favorite things. And if you go get her a pup cup, she’ll never come home to me.”

“Wouldn’t you know it? I was thinking I needed to make a coffee run. This seals the deal.”

I laugh as I change lanes. “Thanks again. I hated the thought of boarding her.”

“It’s no problem,” Maddie says. “You know I love her. Jack was over the moon that we get to watch her for more than a night. We’re already headed to the dog park.”

I smile when she brings up my nephew. Jack is three years old and the best damn kid in the world. Granted, I’m a biased uncle, but my sister hit the jackpot with him. And he’s all hers, since the sperm donor bolted the second she told him she was pregnant.

“Well, thanks again,” I say. “Now, to change to a less pleasant subject. Have you talked to Mom?”

Maddie lets out a long sigh, which is the normal reaction when bringing up our mother. “I did. She’s on a trip with Larry…or is it Gary? Something with an ‘ary.’

“I thought it was Barry?”

“Maybe? Who knows. Honestly I quit learning their names until they get married.”

“I mean, she’s been seeing him for a month, so it’ll probably happen soon.”

“And they did go to Vegas, so it’s completely possible.”

“Fucking great…”

Our mother is…how do I put this? Incapable of being alone. Single isn’t in her vocabulary. Never has been and never will. It’s just something Maddie and I have come to terms with when it comes to Rhonda Collins-Marrs-O’Leary-Moscowitz-Giordano-Zaharopoulos-Smith.

Yes. That’s seven marriages. Eight, if Larry Gary Barry sticks around. I’m the product of marriage number one. Maddie came from number three. At her ripe age of twenty-five years old, that’s a twelve-year age difference between us—so do the math of the average amount of time for each husband. I liked Maddie’s dad and was sad to see him go, though I do talk to him every once in a while since he still lives in Nashville and has a great relationship with Maddie. My father, on the other hand,didn’t even lie and say he was going for milk and cigarettes before leaving. I had just turned four.

I was the ring bearer in wedding number two before I started kindergarten.

Thus began the revolving door of boyfriends who turned into husbands, who turned into ex-husbands.

And that is the reason why I’m in no rush—and really have no desire—to ever get married.

I’ve seen marriage. Many times.

Fuck that.

“So when Mom inevitably comes back married from Vegas, I’m sure there will be a reception. Will my brother be bringing anyone?”

I huff out a laugh. “Not subtle, Sis.”

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