Page 3 of The Jellybean Dilemma

“And, Greg?”

That handsome head poked around the side.

“I mean it, I actually want details.” Not vague suggestions. I needed actual concrete plans to figure out what I should bring. I waited until he nodded to finish climbing the steps.

Upstairs, I snitched a few jellybeans from the package before changing out of my dress. My shoes came off next as I rummaged for comfy clothes. It was a relief to let my hair down.

Then my phone started pinging. And it didn’t stop. What the hell? I hurried over, wondering what the emergency was.

It was Greg, texting me every possible detail he had, mostly copies of messages from his sister. I trotted downstairs to find him leaning against the counter, behind the tower of presents on the dining room table.

His smirk grew as I scowled. “Was that enough details?”

“You seriously want to leave the day after tomorrow?”

When he shrugged, his uniform jacket bunched up around his waist, and he tugged it down with a sharp motion. “If we’re doing this, we’re all in. I haven’t been home in a while, so it’ll be a big to-do. I’ll be in it for the whole nine yards—the bachelor party, rehearsal dinner, and, of course, the wedding.” He paused. “All or nothing.”

I digested the information, a far cry from the easy getaway I’d imagined.

He arched an eyebrow. “And, as you so politely pointed out, I should let my sister know sooner than later.”

His challenging stare lingered on me, and I felt naked without my formal wear.

He stepped closer, an earnestness coming over him. “Rhonda, I know it’s a lot. And it’s short notice, but once I started thinking about going with you… I really want to. It’ll be great to see everyone again. My sister will die outright of happiness, an Elgin attending her wedding!” His throat bobbed. “This might be overstepping, but I think it’d be good for you to get out of here.”

Silence hung between us as I digested his words, the sincerity of his request taking me aback. He wants me to go? My heart skipped a beat.

“We’re all worried about you, Avery and Derek especially. You’ve lost weight.” He scanned my length, a frown tightening his mouth. “You hardly go anywhere. You don’t talk to anyone.”

Wow, I know Greg and Derek are close, but this is a whole new level. Is that Avery’s doing? Unease sat in me that he was paying such close attention without me even knowing it. I didn’t know what to do with his scrutiny. I swallowed hard, glancing at the floor.

“Come with me.” His tone softened, almost begging me. “My family will love you, and I promise you won’t be bored. What do you say, Jellybean?”

My eyes flicked back to his. When I took in that pleading smile, I simply couldn’t say no.

* * * *

Two days later, a horn honked outside while I scrambled to find my other Jimmy Choo. I just had it. Three quick raps on the door let me know it was Greg. He always knocked the same way.

“It’s open,” I called, ducking under the table.

The annoying squeak of the front door sounded, once then twice. Countless repairmen had been fired and given bad Yelp reviews for not fixing that ridiculous noise.

“Your hinges are too tight.”

My head slammed against the underside of the table, and I gritted my teeth against the pain as I backed out as gracefully as I could.

Greg grinned down at me, one black Jimmy Choo dangling from his finger. “Missing something?”

Rubbing my head wouldn’t do anything except mess up my hair, and yelling at Greg wasn’t going to make either of us feel any better. So, I choked back my annoyance, giving him a tight smile before biting out a clipped, “Thank you.”

When I reached for my shoe, he offered his hand. I took it, my breath hitching at the warm touch. Usually his gloves formed a barrier between us, and I blurted out, “You’re not wearing your uniform.” The moment the words left my lips I wished I could take them back. I bit my lip. “I, um…”

I sagged into the nearest chair. “I’m sorry, that sounded idiotic. I haven’t had the best morning and I’m running on no caffeine.” Our gazes collided as I lifted my chin, relieved at the understanding in his.

Instead of handing me my shoe, he knelt in front of me. What’s he doing? He gestured to my stocking-clad foot and softly asked, “May I?”

I nodded, still unsure.

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