Page 37 of Matched with Her Runaway Groom

“Legally you have to listen to the video,” Mr. Beefcake says, and I turn around, grateful for the darkness and the distraction to block the embarrassment now surging through me. I never get into trouble unless Tiffany is around.

When the video ends, Isabella and Roman walk out to sign their papers and I grab Tiffany’s arm and hold her in place for a moment. “What was that?”

“What?”

“The comment about Landon and I getting back together.”

She shrugs. “It could happen. To be honest, you need someone in your life who isn’t full of estrogen. And we definitely need to do a wardrobe shopping spree when we dock.”

I glance down at my jeans and t-shirt. “What do you mean? I didn’t want to ruin any of my other clothes while racing. What if I blow a tire and end up rolling on the track?”

Tiffany hesitates, looking at me like I’ve just crossed a line. Or several.

“All of that went into picking out jeans and a t-shirt? Do you go through that mental process every time you get ready?”

“Only when I know I don’t have other options.” And when my ex is on board a cruise ship with me.

Tiffany nods. “Okay, but you’re probably the safest driver here. Just don’t roll. I can’t imagine telling your mother what happened.”

That thought brings something sour to my tongue and I shake it off. What would Tina Stewart say if she could see me right now?

She’d criticize my clothes and that I’ve gained weight since the wedding was called off. But to be honest, I’ve felt a bit more confident about how I look, except for when Landon is around. He loved me for so long at one size and now I’m not that anymore.

That’s kind of a mood killer. Ugh. Is there a thought destroyer someone can plant in my brain? Maybe one of those shock therapy collar things would work for me.

Yep, and there goes the image of him holding Savannah as she jumps into his arms, playing across my mind for the hundredth time since it happened two hours ago.

I grab Tiffany’s arm and scribble our names on the lines we need to sign before charging out into the line for the go-karts.

“Where’s the fire?” she asks, rubbing her wrist once I let go.

I chuckle. “No fire. Just a girl who needs to burn through some adrenaline.”

“Hey, sounds good.” She waits a moment and then leans over to ask in a whisper, “Are you irritated because I’m hoping Lachelle will get back together?”

I shake my head and turn away from her, not in the mood to continue this line of conversation. “It’s not on the Breakup Bucket List, but I could use some speed.”

Tiffany grins. “Yes, that’s what I love to hear. Too bad I don’t have that on record to remind you in a few hours that you’re an adventuring vixen.”

I raise an eyebrow and laugh. “Since when do you talk like that? What’s your new obsession since you gave up true crime podcasts?”

“Fantasy novels. I’ve been getting into the urban fantasy ones where it’s like witches and vampires and stuff but now instead of the eighteenth century.”

I nod, all of it making sense. “Of course, that’s totally relatable.”

She nods, her expression sober. “Well, I get a lot more sleep now that I’m not worried about who’s going to kill me. Drew calls that a win.”

I laugh, but there’s a prick at my heart. Landon and I always had a relationship similar to Tiffany and Drew’s.

Why did Landon leave? Was I just so unlovable that he couldn’t imagine his life with me even though we’d been through a lot of the crap that tears couples up?

Sure, I’ve waited over a year without a good explanation, mostly because he disappeared to Chicago. But a cruise ship is the best place to corner him to get the real details. Find myself some closure. Because that’s what the BBL was created for in the first place.

I take a helmet from Mr. Beefcake himself and walk out onto the track to get into the go-kart. I thought they’d be a little closer to mini racecars and try not to be disappointed. But if they can’t actually go fast enough to blow my hair back, I’ll need to find another activity to get out my frustration. Too bad there isn’t an axe-throwing center on board.

With all the buckles securely fastened (I checked three times to be safe), I’m ready to roll.

Mr. Beefcake gets out one of those checkered flags and waves it in front of us. I’m four cars back, behind Tiffany, Roman and Isabella.

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