Page 66 of Runaway Bride's Guide to Love

As I exit the restroom and find the map for “you are here,” I realize that we’re not far from Nashville. About two hours.

Then it hits me like a freight train—reality.

Back to work.

Seeing Duncan.

The fallout of the wedding that wasn’t.

Figuring out where I’m going to live.

Figuring out if Duncan is really suing me.

Not seeing Emmett.

That last one might hit the hardest.

I’ve known since the first night that we were on a clock. It seemed so far away then.

It wasn’t. In fact, it wasn’t nearly long enough.

“Two more hours.” I say to myself. As much as it’s a countdown until I go back to the real world, it’s also one for how much longer I can let myself pretend that Emmett and I are more than what we are.

I know this needs to end. We’ve both made this very clear that this was a Florida-only thing. It was a win-win. That’s what we said.

What we said fucking sucks.

I take my time walking back to the truck and stretch a little while I wait for Emmett. When I see him walking toward me, I don’t try and hide my stare. He’s carrying two plastic bags and looking so good I might ask him if we can have engine problems that need us to find a hotel for the night while it gets fixed.

I wonder if I can cut a wire? I saw it in a movie once. I bet I could. I’m pretty handy.

“Hello? Earth to Stella?”

I blink my way back to reality and out of the delusion of being stranded at a cheap hotel with Emmett for the night. “Sorry. Still asleep. What’s in the bags?”

I can tell from the glint in his eye he knows I’m full of crap, but he doesn’t call me on it. “Waters because I’m pretty sure you haven’t had actual water yet today. Diet Dr Pepper so you didn’t yell at me for only getting you water. Cookie dough bites for you. Skittles for me.”

I feel my mouth drop open in shock and awe. “You got me snacks?”

“Of course.” He walks around to unlock the truck and open my door. “I saw how much Diet Dr Pepper you went through in the last two weeks, so that was an easy one. And you ordered cookie dough ice cream enough that I figured that was a safe bet.”

“But I said I didn’t want any snacks.”

“You were half-asleep. I knew that wasn’t the answer. Plus, it’s always smart to get snacks. Get in, Tiger. It’s time to go home.”

I do as he says, and I’m surprised that I’m not dwelling on the words “time to go home.” Instead I’m marveling at the thoughtfulness of this man. And it’s not just the snacks. It’s everything over the past two weeks.

Saving me on the wedding day.

Going to the beach when I know he hated it.

The smash room.

Holding me while I cried.

Letting me scream when I needed to.

Reminding me of who I am and who I want to be.

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