Page 9 of The Sexy Part
I lower my voice to a husky tone like they do in perfume ads. “Positivity by Cooper.”
“People would spray that perfume everywhere. We’ll make millions.”
“Got that right.”
We reach the foyer, and she gives me a small smile. She’s a trooper. I take the lead toward the kitchen in the back of the mansion. There’s a small table and chairs there for staff.
“Have a seat,” I say, setting her suitcase nearby. I take the biggest cake slice from the refrigerator for us to share. Cool. There’s champagne too. I bring both to the table. I’m sure it’s from Rowan’s wedding, so Mom wouldn’t mind us taking it.
I go to the cabinet in search of glasses.
As I set her glass on the table, I see she’s already swiped cherry filling from the cake with her finger. “Good?”
She nods, focused on picking the good stuff out.
I get out napkins and forks and set them on the table for us. Then I hold the champagne bottle up in question.
“Might as well. I sprang for the good stuff.”
I pop the cork and pour a couple of glasses. After I join her at the table, I go in for a forkful of cake. She blocks me with both hands.
“I need my own slice,” she says.
“Got it.” Her slice is more like a huge slab, but now is not the time to mention that. I go for another smaller slice from the refrigerator.
I join her at the table and take a forkful. “Mmm, this is fantastic.”
“I know,” she says, not pausing in her careful dissection of the cake. Now she’s using the fork to scoop all the filling from every layer, leaving the cake part in crumbles behind.
We eat in companionable silence. After her slab is nothing but hunks of cake—she exclusively ate the filling and icing—she sets her fork down.
“You don’t like the cake part?” I ask.
“Not my favorite. I feel a little better now. Sugar rush is helping.”
“Good.”
She sips her champagne. “I went all out for this wedding in a stupid attempt to impress my father. We haven’t spoken in years. I guess we still don’t have much to say to each other. He left without a goodbye.”
“Sorry to hear it.”
She watches the bubbles in her champagne. “He’s a workaholic corporate lawyer. Probably rushed home to get started on another case. Weekends are just another day for him. My brother has an equally impressive career. Cade’s a neurosurgeon, and his wife’s a psychiatrist.”
“Are you close with your brother?”
She drinks more champagne. “Not really. We don’t have much in common, and he’s really busy. So am I. But hey, it’s fine. Less chances for me to disappoint them.” She sighs. “I’ll never measure up to my family’s expectations. I always fall short.”
“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. I’m sure you have many great qualities. I can tell already you’re courageous. Some brides would’ve crumpled in a cloud of tulle.”
She stares at me. “You know what tulle is?”
“Mom’s a wedding planner.”
Her eyes widen. “Hailey’s your mom?”
“Didn’t I mention that?”
“No. You don’t look like her. I thought you were just the bartender.”
