Page 92 of Summer with My Sexy Ex
“I didn’t realize we were being serious about the price.” He frowns.
She turns to me. “You need to find a smarter one, honey.”
I try to hide my laugh while Wyatt pulls out his wallet, but I’m unsuccessful. Wildly unsuccessful. Wyatt doesn’t speak to me the entire trip back to the hotel.
It’s totally worth it.
wyatt
Twelve hours later,my hands are cramped from holding a pen so tightly for so long. It’s crazy stressful trying to get one letter look like another letter in the same way thousands of times.
According to Bristol, there were two hundred and fifty matchboxes. But by the time we finish, it feels like thousands.
After we get every ‘i’ changed to a ‘y’ we have to stuff everything in the stupid little bags all over again so Brie can tie the string in a bow. Which we’re about halfway finished with now.
“Do you even like this shit?” I ask Blake.
“I don’t know anymore,” he says. “I don’t know anything. I don’t know if I want to get married. I don’t know if I love Taylor. I don’t know ifmyname is spelled right. It’s all a blur.”
Bristol goes to him and gives him a hug from behind, then kisses his cheek. “Don’t say that. It’s going to be okay. You’re tired now. We all are. And it’s been a really stressful day. But tomorrow, after we have a great night’s sleep, this will all be finished, and we can hang out by the pool or something and have fun.”
“No, we can’t,” Blake says. “Didn’t you see the manifesto? There’s a whole new list of shit for tomorrow.”
“Shit like this?” I ask, my voice rising in panic. I can’t handle another day like this.
Blake shrugs. He looks pathetic. He lays his head down on the table and stays there.
Bristol grabs the manifesto binder and thumbs through it. “It’s not so bad,” she says, snapping it closed.
“What is it?” I ask.
“We have to core apples and put candles in them.”
“More fucking candles?”
“The apples will have votives,” she says.
“What are these?” I point to the candles inside the stupid little bags.
“Container candles,” Brie says.
“How is a votive different?” I ask.
“Votives are those little squatty candles, about this big.” She uses her fingers to show the size.
“So, like Wy’s dick,” Blake jokes.
“My dick is ten times bigger than that.”
“I don’t know aboutten,” Brie says.
“Are you kidding me right now?” I stand to unfasten my shorts.
“NO!” Blake holds his hand out to stop me. “I don’t need to see your dick. And I definitely don’t need to hear my sister talk about its size.”
“You brought it up,” Brie says.
“Yeah,” I add.
