Runaway Groom (I Do, I Don't 2)

I fling the covers back, quietly climb down from the top bunk, and slip on my flip-flops.

He’s probably not still there, but if he is, I’ve got things to say to him.

I’m still fuming by the time I make it to the closet, and I tell myself that my heart is pounding with anger and not anticipation because I see the faintest light coming from beneath the door.

When I open it, Gage is sitting on the love seat, leaning forward, his shoulders slumped, his head down as he stares at his hands.

His head snaps up, his eyes finding mine a split second before a smile spreads across his face as though he’s glad to see me.

I start to smile back before I remember that I’m mad at him, and I step into the room, shutting the door behind me.

“You’re late.”

“I wasn’t going to come at all,” I say, dropping unceremoniously onto the love seat beside him.

He nods toward the table, where he’s got the usual bottle of wine and two glasses. “Your head still hurt, or you want a glass?”

How’d he know I was telling people I had a headache? The man’s more observant than I give him credit for.

“No thanks on the wine,” I say. Not because my head hurts, but because I need to keep it clear. “So, Hannah.”

He lifts a shoulder and pivots to face me. “My spy disappeared on me—didn’t give me any tips on who to send home.”

“Why her?”

He opens his mouth as though he wants to respond, but then gives me an indifferent shrug. “Why not?”

I narrow my eyes, because that’s an evasion if I’ve ever heard one. “And Skylar? She was sweet.”

“Are you here to lecture me about the women I’ve already sent home, or to tell me who I should send home tomorrow?”

I chew my lip for a second. “Fine. Naomi.”

A line appears between his eyebrows. “Why? She seems cool.”

“Cool? Or a good kisser?”

It’s not even a good jab—Naomi wasn’t one of the ones who kissed him on the boat. But who knows what he’s been up to when I haven’t been around?

His head snaps back slightly, and I want to punch myself in the face, because that is so not what I meant to say. The words came out petty and, well…jealous.

“Ellie—”

I hold up a hand. “Forget it, totally not my business, I know. But anyway, Naomi…yeah, she is cool. She’s also married.”

“What?”

“She and Sidney are tight and she confided in her friend, only Sidney had way too much to drink and blurted it out to Brittany B., who promptly told the rest of us after dinner tonight.”

“What the hell is she doing on the show? Where’s her husband?”

“Apparently she signed a prenup, and if she leaves him, she doesn’t get a penny.”

“Yeah, well, pretty sure she’s not going to get a dime once the hubby learns about this.”

I shrug. “I dunno. Maybe she’s trying to get him to leave her. I don’t know the details, or what’s going on there. Just that legally she’s married, which would make you marrying her illegal at worst, a hot mess at best.”

Gage groans and drags his hands over his face. “What is wrong with these people?”