Page 17 of Wish Lists and Road Trips

“Tell me about it,” I said, watching her eyes dance.

“Right now I’m purely mobile, doing weddings and special events on site, plus I run a pretty successful blog, but my business is growing. I need space. That’s why I’m buying the house,” she said. “I’m going to live upstairs and turn the first floor into a studio. I’ll be able to see clients and even sell some of the products I’ve scored paid partnerships for.”

“How old are you?” I asked, impressed.

Brit swirled her drink around, eyeing me like she was waiting for a jab. “I’m twenty-five and three months.”

“Just a babe,” I said, chuckling to myself. I still remembered that bright-eyedanything is possiblelook. Maybe that was why I couldn’t help my fascination with her. I had no idea what she was going to do or say so I was constantly on a hook. It was hell and bliss at the same time.

Of course, the bliss part had everything to do with how pretty she was. In this dim bar, her bare legs crossed in front of me, it was hard to ignore. She leaned closer and the lantern in the center of our table cast a soft light over her cheekbones, making them look even more unreal.

“What about you?” She kicked my foot under the table.

I sipped my beer. “Twenty-nine.”

“Hmm. I would have guessed thirty.”

“You would have guessed one year older? That’s a very precise prediction.”

“Thirties, I should say. You’re very mature.” She said that like it was an insult and a hundred “loosen up” comments I’d heard from past girlfriends echoed in my head. The next sip I took was more of a chug.

“When’s your birthday?” she asked.

“It was the day before the cruise.” It was my first one without Alex. My mother made a big dinner at her house. She spent the night alternating between locking herself in the bathroom and shoving food at people.

Brit looked at me funny. “Your birthday is March fifteenth?”

“It is.”

“Three-fifteen,” she said, her voice going soft. She looked a little stunned.

I raised an eyebrow at her.

“It’s just . . .” She shook her head. “That was supposed to be my wedding day.”

Shit.That’s right. This should have been her honeymoon. For reasons that I didn’t want to touch, I didn’t like the reminder. I gave her a silent nod, unsure what the fitting response was to that kind of life event.

“Was it a good day for you?” she asked.

“No.”

“Me either.” She tipped her glass at me. “Happy belated birthday, Nick.”

The sincerity in her voice made my neck hot. “Thanks. When’s yours?”

“December twenty-fifth.”

“You were born on Christmas?”

“Yup.” She lit up like she’d chosen the date herself.

“Huh. You’re a Capricorn? That makes no sense.”

Brit’s eyes flew wide and she slammed her drink down, getting a look from the couple beside us. “Shut up,” she said. “You know star signs?”

I shrugged, biting back a laugh at her enthusiasm. “My dad is a Capricorn. My sister-in-law is into that stuff. She swears she can guess a person’s sign within minutes of meeting them. She’s always analyzing us, telling us it’s the stars that made us do this or that.”

“That’s because this ‘stuff’ is real. And my rising sign is Sagittarius, so, like, there you go.” Her forehead wrinkled. “Honestly, you being a Pisces makes no sense either. You don’t strike me as a sensitive fish. Unless . . .”

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