Page 57 of Holiday Wedding
“I’ve got it,” I say, raising my voice.
“Hang on, let me put my watch back on,” he replies, muffled.
A minute later, the door cracks open. I shove the robe in, averting my eyes. “Here, try this.”
Dean’s fingers, damp and warm, brush mine as he murmurs, “Thanks.”
I lay down in bed, under the covers, and pick up my phone. The sight of it reminds of earlier today. How I found it face up. Had Eddie seen it and the stalker information on it? Probably not. If he had, he would have brought it up at the restaurant. Knowing him, he would have blackmailed me or would have immediately issued a “breaking news” edition of the paper with all the details.
None of that’s happened, so I must be overly paranoid. Maybe I moved the phone and didn’t realize it? Maybe it fell to the floor while I was getting coffee, and the waiter picked it up and put it back on the table? Still, should I mention the possibility to Dean? Warn him?
That thought is quickly forgotten the minute Dean emerges. A look at him and I burst into laughter, so hard that fat tears roll down my cheeks.
“Hey,” he protests, his ears bright red.
My robe comes to the top of his thick, muscular thighs. He holds it in place so it doesn’t gape. He’s even tied a bow into the cloth belt that goes around his waist.
“It’s a little small,” he says miserably.
“You think?” I’m still laughing, although softer now. I try to stifle the sound since I can tell he’s embarrassed. It’s just that he looks so funny.
“Come over here and get under the covers,” I say.
Dean’s eyes widen with horror. “Over there?” he asks slowly. “But…” his voice dropping to a whisper, like he’s telling me a secret, “you’re sleeping over there.”
“Pftt,” I say and wave my hand.
“It’s fine. We can share the bed. I don’t mind.”
His eyes widen even more. Soon they’ll swallow his whole face.
“What ifImind?”
I put my phone down on the nightstand and turn to fluff up my pillow before flopping back on it.
“Stop being such a baby. You’re shivering again. Get in here.”
He searches the room, giving serious consideration to the floor.
Now I’m mad. Is it really so bad to be in the same bed as me?Sheesh.You’d think I was poison ivy or something. Every time we take a step forward, we go back two. It’s clear the blooming attraction I feel toward him only goes one way.
“Dean,” I say, using my firm voice, the only tone that made my brothers stop and listen. “You’re being ridiculous. Get in. I’ll stay on my side, and you stay on yours. We’re both adults here. I think I have enough self-control to keep my hands off you.”
With that, he comes over, muttering, “Fine, but I’m keeping the robe on.” The bed creaks when he climbs in, the white metal frame shaking. “This mattress is hard,” he grumbles.
An awkward silence descends, and I’m fuming, wondering what exactlyis so repulsive about me that this guy can’t stand to be near me. It’s another rejection. Another person who wants nothing to do with me. My brothers, Eddie, now Dean. I know I’m not perfect. Not a perfect friend. I don’t have a perfect body. Still, I try to be a nice person, a good person. It doesn’t matter. This is where I always end up.
In a thoroughly sour mood, I deliberately ignore him and scroll through my phone, checking my emails one last time.
The bed squeaks again as he makes himself comfortable. After a minute, he whispers a soft, “Jennifer.”
“What?” I snap.
“You shouldn’t use your phone. The battery will die, and we can’t charge it.”
“Really? That’s what you wanted to tell me?” I glare over at him, anger surging through my veins.
“Well, yes,” he says, all peevish, as if he has the right to be offended.
