Page 137 of Fumbled Into Love

“The first shelf is up,” he says, sipping his beer. “Henry and I will put up the other two while you and Declan work on the shoe organizers.”

Jack has taken over as team leader and grateful doesn’t even begin to describe how I’m feeling. None of this would be possible if they hadn’t given up their limited free time to traipse through craft stores, print photos, and build furniture.

My friends are the reason I’m able to plan the grand gesture Nathalie deserves.

While Henry and Declan argue over who gets the last cookie Sawyer sent, I text Maren, needing to check in on Nathalie.

How is she doing?

Maren: Uh…

Do you want me to lie to you?

I would prefer you didn’t.

Well, I can say that she has no idea you’ve planned anything.

Elaborate.

She fully believes that by this time tomorrow, your deal will be over.

She asked if you would consider joint custody of the cat.

Oh.

How’s it going over there?

Jack’s building shit and I’m freaking out.

Declan and Henry are mildly helpful.

Sounds like an average day.

Take care of her for me?

Don’t let her cry too much.

I am not a miracle worker. She thinks you don’t love her.

If I have to hear her sing “I know I could have loved you, but you would not let me” one more time, I might have to scrap your whole plan and tell her.

She’s horribly off key when she’s sobbing and disgracing Stevie Nicks.

Fuck.

Just do your best, okay?

I will.

A swell of guilt crashes into my chest, nearly sending me tumbling.

She only has to be upset today,I tell myself. Tomorrow I’ll make it up to her.

I’m frowning at my phone when a distinct smell hits my nose, and I lift my gaze to find Jack, Henry, and Declan all smiling as Jack dangles a bag of pretzels in front of my face.

“He’s back,” Declan says, dumping the bag of pretzels into a bowl. I immediately snatch a handful, hoarding them like they’re Nathalie’s shiny rock collection. My friends are heathens and the bowl will be gone in minutes.

I’m savoring the last of my pretzels, silently practicing my speech, mouthing the words. When I look up, everyone is staring at me.

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