Page 90 of Runaway Bride's Guide to Love

“Thanks, man. I owe you one.”

We hang up the phone and I quickly stand up from the bench. “Can you take Winnie for the night? I need to go to Stella.”

Maddie studies me for a second. “Sure. Is everything okay? And who’s Stella?”

“It will be.”

I don’t answer the second question as I start jogging to my truck, but not before I hear Maddie call out to me.

“Emmett!”

“Yeah?”

“It’s her, isn’t it?”

I nod, not even caring about hiding it anymore. “Yeah. It’s her.”

“Perfect. Then go get your girl.”

My girl.

Mine.

Stella’s mine.

Actually, change that. I’m hers. She’s had me from the first day we met. She had me the second I saw her in that wedding dress. She’s had me from the jump.

Now I just hope I’m not too late.

guide to love rule #35

Find you a man who will haul a moving truck’s worth of shoes for you.

If he threatens your ex? Even better.

26

stella

I'm a strong,independent woman who don't need no man.

Actually…that’s a lie.

I'm a strong, independent woman, and I really need a man to carry these heavy boxes.

I fall to the floor of my former bedroom and let out an “umphf” as I stare at the stacks of shoes I’ve already packed, and the ones I still haven’t touched yet. I haven’t even started on my clothes or other items that I bought that are scattered around the condo.

Maybe those spontaneous shopping trips with Andi and my sisters have finally caught up with me? Do I have too many shoes?

No. That’s just crazy talk.

I drastically underestimated the amount of things I still had here. I also stubbornly refused anybody’s offers to help me come pack. Or realized that my tiny car can’t fit much in it. In my mind, I could do it myself. You know, because I’m a strong, independent woman.

But now as I sit here in a sea of Louboutins, Minolos, and a wedge sandal in every color, I realize that I’m not strong or independent—I’m an idiot. Because there’s no way I’m going to geteverything packed and moved to my car before Duncan gets home from work. He agreed to stay out of the condo during the day and I agreed to be done by six o’clock. Which means I’m going to have to make multiple trips here, which is something I’d rather not do. But if that’s what needs to be done, then so be it.

I look around to assess just how much I have left, when I notice another row of boots on the top shelf. Lovely. And of course I can’t reach them without a step stool. With a groan I get myself off the floor and make my way to the laundry room, hoping this is where Duncan still keeps the stool I bought last year when I needed to put the boots on the top shelf.

Note to self: Take the stool.

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