Page 46 of Road Trip to Forever
“I don’t like you being a relationship guru,” I say. “You’re freaking me out.”
“Sorry. Man in love, remember?” Henry checks his watch and bounces on the balls of his feet. “Can I go marry my girl now?”
“Should be just a few more minutes before—” My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and see Lola’s contact photo: her on a catamaran off the coast of Portugal, holding a slice of pizza and sticking out her tongue, with her sunglasses on upside down and her wild hair whipping in the wind.
Fuck, I love that woman.
Sheismy parachute.
“Hang on. Lo’s calling me.” I stand up and slide my thumb across the screen. “Lola?”
“Patrick,” she whispers. I have to press my finger to my ear to hear her. “Thank god.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m having a situation.”
I’m already halfway to the door. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I need help with my dress. I can’t walk down the aisle with my zipper halfway undone.”
“Tell me where you are,” I say, relieved to hear there’s nothing seriously wrong.
“Hiding in a room two doors down from the bridal suite. Some creepy taxidermy thing is staring at me. I can’t tell if it’s a bird or a bear.”
“I’ll be there in thirty seconds. Stay put.” I hang up and turn to the guys. “Lola’s having a wardrobe malfunction.”
“Go,” Henry says. “We’ll see you out there.”
With a salute, I leave the room, dodging the last-minute stragglers trickling into the ceremony. I make it to the other side of the building and knock softly on the white-paned door I think Lola is behind, heaving a deep breath to prepare for another possiblemoment. “Lo?”
THIRTEEN
PATRICK
“Come in,”she calls out.
I turn the brass knob and slip inside the small space. “Where are you?”
“Sorry. I was hiding.” She steps out from behind a statue, letting me see her for the first time since we went our separate ways this morning.
Her hair is in some half-up, half-down style with pieces framing her face. Her lips are bright red and her dress—
Hell.
Thatdress.
It’s obscene. Unfair to the rest of the world, because who can compete with her when she looks likethat, a goddess in a dark green gown like some ethereal vision brought to life?
The silky material dips at her chest and hugs her waist before flaring out over her legs. It subtly shows off her curves, just enough to drive me wild and hint that they’re there. The swell of her breasts. The shape of her hips. I want to slide the thin straps down her shoulders and press my lips to her bare skin.
I’ve seen Lola in a nice outfit before. Half-finished dresses she’s workshopping, needing my help to put a pushpin in a place where she can’t reach. A rented gown for the gala Henry and Emma invited us to a couple years ago. Prom when we were in high school, agreeing to go to the dance together so we wouldn’t have to ask anyone else. She wore a sparkly skirt and stuck a boutonniere to my suit.
This doesn’t compare.
Not even close.
There’s pressure in my chest, a balloon inflating and filling the space behind my ribs until there’s not an inch left to give. The piece of me that’s belonged to Lola from the minute I first saw her burns bright as she watches me, lip caught between her teeth and her gaze locked on mine.
