Page 15 of Spellbound
“Sounds great. We’ll get finished sooner and then we can find something to explore.” She peered around as if this as yet undisclosed destination would present itself, then shrugged. “I’ll ask around for suggestions. There’s gotta be some local attraction we should check out.”
Again flashed a vision of us in the future. Holding hands as we pushed a stroller. Family day at the ball park. Pizza night around a kitchen table.
These visions freaked me the fuck out. They were also almost . . . comforting.
I shot to my feet and suggested waffles at Break and Egg—anything to to get me off the crazy train my brain was riding. Whatever happened between us—we could try the long-distance thing, right? The idea had my heart soaring—I’d put it to bed tonight. Get through the party, then lay out my plan. It was amazing how much lighter I felt for making this decision. I dressed, then paused by the night stand to grab my phone and wallet.
Emma Grayce’s phone dinged from the charger on the opposite side of the bed.
She peeked up from the corner chair where she was strapping on sandals. “That’s probably Stephanie changing the time, changing the place, changing the menu. By now, nothing surprises me. Do you mind taking a look and seeing what she wants?”
I crawled across the mattress, over the sheets still tossed from our earlier sexcapades, and stretched to palm her phone. The messages were from some guy named Perry. Not Stephanie after all.
Are you over your tantrum yet?
And then:
I forgive you. Have your little vacation and then get back to me.
I turned to face Emma Grayce, her phone pointed outward toward her. “You told me you didn’t have a boyfriend.” I couldn’t keep the shocked betrayal from my tone. But even though my voice gave me away, I wouldn’t let her see how my mistreated heart was instantly stone. If I had been uncertain how I felt about Emma Grayce—my Eegee—it was now crystal clear.
Now, when it was too fucking late.
Her head snapped up. “A boyfriend? No, of course not. Why—” She took the phone from me, glanced at her the screen and collapsed back into the chair. “Oh, hell.”
That’s right, you deceiving bitch. Your secret is out.
“Perry isn’t my boyfriend, Eli. He’s the guy I work for. Worked for. The guy who fired me because I wanted to attend my best friend’s wedding.
My relief nearly sent me to my knees. “Prick.”
“You have no idea. But now it seems the value of my currency has increased.”
I took the device from her hand and punched in commands. I handed it back. “How are you planning to answer this dickwad?” And then I was filled with sudden alarm. “You going back?”
“You kidding? Getting fired was the best thing to ever happen to me. It gave me the push I needed to pursue my career as a fiction author. No holding back now.”
“You planning to answer this jerk or—”
She shut down her phone and laid it on the night table. “I’ll let him stew awhile.”
“A long-ass while. That’s all he deserves. Oh, and that was my phone number I added to your phone. Send me a text and then I’ll have your number, too.”
She found my contact and my phone dinged with the sent message.
My wedding fling. Whom I’d miss terribly when I woke in two days and had to drive back to Boston and real life.
I only been given sketchy details about the reception so on the way to the diner, after we ordered, and while we savored the blueberry waffles and thick-cut bacon that kept the place hopping through the breakfast hours, I listened to their plans for various snack and game stations. I wasn’t any more interested in the details of a near-stranger’s wedding than I was of my own beloved sister’s, but the bride squad had apparently spent the past year putting the event together toStephanie’s exacting specifications—Emma Grayce’s words, not mine—so I paid rapt attention. I should probably not fuck anything up.
Bellies full, we pulled up to the town square right on time to find the lawn littered with straw bales, whiskey barrels, and stacks of wooden planks. Along with an impressive crowd, already busy transforming the space as decreed by the bride-to-be. Once we parked at the curb, Colleen raced up and immediately launched into a continuous stream of instructions.
“You made it! Oh, thank you! They’ve got the cornhole games set up, but we need to set up the bases for backwards baseball. Then the tables need to be built for the long bar over there”—she turned to point—“and OMG, Emma Grayce, what a great idea to have a popcorn bar! And a photo booth. Y’all are the best friends ever!” Stephanie paused for a deep breath, let it out with an overwhelmed sigh, then dove in to hug Emma Grayce. “I don’t have enough words.”
I disagreed. She seemed to have plenty.
The way I saw it, I was there to provide muscle for this shit show. I stepped up. “I have a little experience with a ball diamond. I can help with that.” Stephanie shouted across the park to someone named Shane, and used hand gestures to indicate whatever the hell message she thought she was sending. It was all lost on me, but Shane waved me over.
I went. A couple other men had congregated as well in the area designated for baseball—the man I recognized as Deke McAllister among them. Shane appeared to be a grumpy prick, except when interacting with a young boy who carried a strong resemblance to both he and Deke. Some relation? I guess I’d figure it out as time passed. And if I didn’t? I mentally shrugged. I’d probably never see these people again in my life.
