Page 118 of When Stars Collide
“Tell me about it.” He looked over his shoulder, grinning at me.
“You’re taking no prisoners tonight.”
“Now you’re just teasing me. All you have to do is give the word and I would very willingly make you my prisoner.”
“Pants. Now,” I demanded, pointing at his suitcase.
“Yes, Mom.”
“And with that, you’ve succeeded in putting my libido completely out of its misery.”
His back to me, Phineas allowed his towel to slide down to the floor. With everything I had, I held my groan captive in my throat, rolling over so that I wouldn’t be tempted to look at him as he pulled his flannel pajama pants on.Moments later, the bed shifted when he crawled in next to me and wrapped his arm around my waist.
“Goodnight, Mena.”
“Goodnight, Phin”
Soon, I felt the measured breaths of sleep striking my neck, one hot burst of air followed closely by another. I really was tired; I hadn’t lied about that. I just wasn’t fall-asleep tired. The kind of tired I was had metastasized itself deep within my body, clinging to my very thoughts. After everything I’d been through over the last, well, year really, I craved stability. The question was, where would I find it?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Wind whipped through my hair, promising to undo the curls I’d fought so hard to attain one curl at a time. In the driver’s seat next to me, Phineas’s contented smile told me he was relishing the fresh air. And, of course, not a single hair of his was out of place.
Convertibles usually weren’t my thing. I preferred the tops on my cars and the bugs out of my teeth. But seeing Phineas light up like a kid at Christmas when he put the top down on the vehicle he’d rented, I couldn’t help but reconsider my position. As rich as the man was, as much as he could buy, it always seemed to be the little things that made him the happiest.
Hargrove Gardens was every bit the oasis the pictures Elle sent to me had led me to believe. A winding river cut through an emerald green lawn dotted with gardens. Irises and tulips were in season, blooming brilliantly. The contrast between their purple and gold hues was striking. Even Phineas was in awe of the sight before us, one that was uncommon back in the concrete jungle we called home.
“Being here almost keeps me from missing New York,” he said, gaping at the grounds.
“Almost? I’d move here today.” That proclamation surprised even me, let alone Phineas, who responded to it with a wince he tried to hide by pretending to fight back a sneeze. “Of course, you know, that’s just not going to happen. My life is in New York.”
His fingers brushed against mine, interlacing with my hand. A few steps farther and we crested a hill, where we found ourselves on a cobblestone path lined with dogwood trees at the peak of their bloom and edged with Virginia bluebells. At the end of the path stood a rustic archway constructed with bits of wood designed to look like twigs. It was in front of that arch that Elle and Luke would be married. And in front of that arch was where they stood now, along with everyone else.
Well, almost everyone else.
Phineas let go of my hand as we approached, taking a seat in one of the chairs set up for the ceremony tomorrow. He held up his phone to me apologetically, silently asking my permission to check his emails. Such was the plight of the successful business owner. I nodded my approval, not that he needed it, but it was still nice that he was concerned enough to ask.
Everyone was milled about the archway in a tight group. Everyone except Peter. Not that I was looking for him. Not at all.
“This is even better than your pictures,” I greeted Elle, who was standing in a group with Violet, Kirsten, and Alex.
“I know! It takes my breath away every time I come here. Karen said I could come and visit any time I want after the ceremony.”
“Karen?”
“Karen Hargrove. She’s the owner of the property. She lives in the house on top of the hill up there.” Elle nodded to the white farmhouse off in the distance. I had been so preoccupied by the beauty of the grounds I hadn’t noticed it was even there. “It’s such a beautiful story. She and her husband owned this property. After he died fifteen years ago, she turned it into a wedding venue and sits on a rocking chair on her porch whenever there’s a ceremony to watch it. She says watching the love stories of others helps to keep hers alive.”
Elle continued recounting the tale of Karen Hargrove’s life and the birth of Hargrove Gardens, but I had stopped paying attention by that point in favor of looking for the one person who wasn’t here. In another group, Luke stood with Salvatore and Connor. Next to them, huddled in a group of their own, Candy and Tom were chatting with Mark, while the little girl who would serve as the flower girl sat on the ground at Candy’s feet, making a necklace from clovers she found on the ground. With them was a middle-aged woman I didn’t recognize. Even farther off to the side, Amanda stood with Jackson, looking just as uncomfortable as I envisioned she enjoyed making others feel.
“Are we about to get started?” I interrupted Elle’s story, having a pretty good idea that we weren’t.
“Uh, no. We’re just waiting on Peter.”
“Oh, he’s not here yet?” I hoped that I projected a believable amount of surprise in my voice.
“He, uh, had a rough night.” I was certain she deliberately avoided making eye contact with me.
A rough night? I thought he said he was going to bed?
