Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Yeah.
People are probably already wondering why Henry and I disappeared.
“Christ,” I say out loud to my reflection. “What the hell are you doing? This weekend is about Angie.”
I take about five minutes to make my hair as presentable as I can. Thank goodness I packed bobby pins, which I never use but my mother always said a woman should never be without. Must have been serendipity. Turns out bobby pins are great for fixing an updo after a quick fuck. Who knew?
“Okay,” I say out loud again. “Here we go. Dinner’s going to be served in the next couple of minutes, so get the hell out there and play your part.”
I walk out of my room and into the quiet hallway. Once I get to the main area of the house, the hustle and bustle of the staffers tells me that indeed, dinner is being served.
I head outside and scan the area for Stephen. He’s talking to Sage and Gina. Good. Gina knows him because he gave her a massage today. And she and Sage are both stag tonight. Maybe he’ll take an interest in one of them.
Because he and I? As gorgeous as he is, it’s not happening.
There’s only one man on my radar, and even though we’ve fucked twice, I doubt it’s in the cards.
Not until he figures out what he wants.
I walk toward Stephen and the girls.
“There you are,” Stephen says, holding out his hand to me. “I was beginning to get worried.”
“I apologize,” I say. “A seam ripped in my dress, and I had to repair it.”
Anyone with a brain could drive a truck through the holes in that story, but no one says anything.
“We should grab our seats,” Sage says. “Mom just told me that dinner’s going to be served soon.”
“Yeah, the staffers are getting everything ready,” I say. “I saw them all in the kitchen.”
“Do we have assigned seats?” Stephen asks.
“No, not for the rehearsal dinner tonight,” Sage says. “Just sit where you’d like. In fact, why don’t the four of us find seats together?”
I give them a wide smile. “I’d love that.”
Boy, do they not know how much I would love it.
I’d really love it if one of them would take Stephen off my hands. I can’t take any more talk of whole foods and the evils of seed oils.
Not that I don’t agree with his eating habits. But do we have to talk about detoxing all night?
We find a seat at one of the smaller tables that is set for four.
Staffers come around to fill our water glasses, and then our salad is served. It’s basic field greens with a raspberry vinaigrette topped with toasted sunflower kernels and pistachios.
It looks light and tasty, which I’m grateful for since we had such a large lunch.
Once everyone is served, I lay my napkin in my lap and pick up my salad fork.
“Do you know if these greens are organic?” Stephen asks.
Sage nods. “My mother only allows organic fruits and vegetables in her kitchen.”
“Thank God,” I say under my breath. Our table might fall through the ground if Stephen had to eat a salad made of greens that might have—the horror!—touched a pesticide.
There’s no reason why he’s getting on my nerves so badly. He’s a very nice person, and he believes in what he believes.
It’s just that…
He’s not the one I want.
And I can’t have the one I want.
He said we had to stop what we were doing.
I told him he was the one who had to stop, since he was the one who kept starting it.
I don’t regret those words. Not at all. I haven’t started anything with Henry.
I just haven’t stopped him when he started.
And the truth? I didn’t want to stop.
Is he acting like some knight in shining armor?
God, no.
He’s hurting. He’s using me. That much is clear as day.
But he’s using me and not someone else. That’s got to mean something, right?
I spear a few greens on my fork and bring them to my mouth. The vinaigrette is a tasty mélange of sweet fruit and savory sherry vinegar. Underneath it all I taste the mild flavor of the extra-virgin olive oil. The toasty flavor of the sunflower kernels adds another zest.
“Delicious,” I say after I swallow.
“Simple salads are one of Mom’s staples,” Sage says. “She believes a salad can be just as delicious without all the extra trimmings. Plus, she knows I hate cheese on salad.”
“That’s what you always say, Sage,” Gina says, “but you ate that Caesar salad today, which was covered in Parmesan.”
She shrugs. “Parmesan is different. It’s more for seasoning.”
Gina laughs. “Whatever you say.”
“I don’t think you need to put blue cheese or goat cheese on a salad,” Sage says. “They’re too overpowering.”
“I’ll agree with that,” I say.
“I agree as well,” Stephen says. “Besides, I try to stay away from dairy anyway. The casein—”