Page 52 of Matched with Her Runaway Groom

“You and Dani sound like you’re reading from the same relationship books,” I say. I have to breathe through my mouth or my gag reflex is going to add to the stench.

“Well, someone’s got to come up with something since you and Rachelle can’t get on the same page.”

I shake my head, irritated. “I’m trying to, all right? She looks like she’s about to open up and then, a moment later, she shuts back down. I’m just trying to get her to not clam up for long enough to talk about the possibilities of us getting back together.”

Tiffany nods. “That’s a start. I’ll see if I can help on my end.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Tiffany. I really appreciate it.”

She turns and takes dainty steps down the platform and heads in the direction where Rachelle disappeared.

“Actually,” I say, hurrying to catch up with her. “Let me find her. I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

“That’s better,” Tiffany says, grinning at me. “Tell her I’ll be over by the souvenir shop looking for some new apparel for her.”

It doesn’t take long for me to find Rachelle, sitting down with her back against a tree.

“Are you okay?”

She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even acknowledge that she’s heard me. I walk over and stand in front of her, but she’s got this dazed look, as if her body is here but her soul is somewhere else.

Squatting down, I reach out to touch her and hesitate, because everywhere I look, she’s covered with… digested stuff.

A quick giggle sounds and then her face splits to a crazed smile, her chest heaving as more laughter escapes.

“Are you all right? Rachelle?” Her smile and laughter are making me want to do the same thing, but I’m a little confused what is causing it.

“Well, let me just go hang out with the sharks in the ocean because that was the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened in my life.” She points to the large wet spot covering my shirt. “Look at that. You’ve been attacked by my awesomeness.”

Hearing her joke about it isn’t a typical Rachelle trait, but I’ll take it.

“Okay, I think calling your vomit awesomeness is taking it a bit too far. What if we go grab some new clothes at the souvenir shop? Tiffany said she was picking some out and to head there once I found you.”

Rachelle’s smile drops and lets her forehead hang to her hands. “Yeah, she’s probably got the whole new wardrobe lined up.”

I hold out my hand to help her up and after a moment of awkward indecision, she places her warm, soft palm in mine. This strange connection is like a time warp and I blink several times to make sure I’m not going through déjà vu as I help her up.

She jerks her hand away as soon as she’s steady and I can already feel the lack of warmth where her hand was.

We walk several steps in silence, making it to the clearing where the platforms are.

And then it’s like all eyes are on us, noses upturned. Me, I’m turning into a mouth-breather, at least until I can get a shower.

“Sorry, about the, um, you know.” She points to my shirt and then turns forward.

“It’s all good. At least you didn’t throw up on the zip line. What if you’d thrown up on someone walking below?”

She rolls her lips in and her eyes widen. “True. I guess you’re the optimal target.”

“I told you to hit me if you wanted. I guess I never pictured you’d find a way to not use your fists.”

We both laugh and then continue in an easy silence.

“I’m sorry—”

“I’m sorry about last night,” I say, able to finish my sentence even though we’d started speaking at the same time.

She shakes her head and shrugs. “If it’s the truth, then it’s good to finally know what it is, right? I mean, that way we can both move on with our lives.”

---