Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
I try, while her brilliant fingers dig into the tense muscles of my neck. And after a minute or two, her hands venture onto my scalp, pressing and rubbing. It’s more effective than I ever would have guessed.
“Lift up,” she says, tugging gently on my shoulder.
“Hmm?”
Darcy shows me what she means by lifting my head just enough to slide onto the sofa cushion and drop my head in her lap. Then she carries on with her massage.
I’m startled for about half a second. But then her fingers work their magic again, pressing against all the achy places on my cranium.
“There you go,” she whispers.
“And they say weddings are fun,” I mumble.
“Do they?” she whispers back. “Have they met our families?”
I open my eyes, and I’m immediately greeted by Darcy’s blue ones at close range. “I guess not,” I whisper.
She gives her head a little shake and continues to rub my head. “Here’s what I’ve learned about parents like ours,” she says quietly. “You can’t change them, and it hurts a lot to try. But you can change your reaction to them.”
I think that over for a second. “Huh. I never thought about it like that.”
“It helps me to frame it that way,” she says.
“And that’s why I have a migraine, and you don’t?”
She chuckles. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re just unlucky.”
Funny, but I don’t feel quite as unlucky as I did a half hour ago. And there’s only one reason why. I reach up, catching her smooth cheek in my palm. “Hey. Thank you. For everything you do.”
She blinks down at me, startled. But then she smiles. “You’re welcome. Now close your eyes and relax. Stop worrying about other people for, like, five minutes.”
If that’s what it takes to get rid of this headache, I guess I’ll try it. I close my eyes as Darcy’s fingers return to their magic. The room is so quiet that I can hear the waves hitting the beach nearby. So I make myself focus only on that.
A while later, I’m briefly aware of a pillow replacing Darcy’s thigh beneath my head. And then the soft click of the bedroom door as she retreats to log in to her class. But the switcheroo only relaxes me further, because it means that she’s not missing her lecture on my account.
I listen to the distant surf, and nothing else registers for a nice long time.
Muffled footsteps in the hallway.
Ocean.
Quiet.
But then, like fingernails on a chalkboard, I hear Tessa’s chirpy voice. “Darcy? Is this really your room? I didn’t believe it when I read it on the manifest.”
My eyes spring open, but when I look around, I’m still alone.
“Yep,” says Darcy from the hallway. “I got upgraded. Why do you need to know?”
“Everybody gets a gift basket. So open the door already? My arms are kind of full here.”
“Oh.” A pause. “That’s very nice. I can just take…”
“No, show me your room.”
Another silence. “Eric is napping. He has a headache.”
“I’m up!” I slur, rolling over onto my side.
I hear the beep of the key card mechanism, and then the door opens a few inches as Darcy peeks inside. “Hey! How’s your head?”
“Better.” It’s probably even true. “And yours?”
“Fantastic!” She gives me a conspiratorial wink and opens the door all the way. “I brought you a cappuccino.”
“You’re my favorite.”
She gives me a bright smile and carries a cup holder over to the coffee table.
Tessa follows her into the room, uninvited. She’s weighed down by four or so baskets, wrapped in some kind of shimmery gauze. “Eric! I brought you guys a gift basket. Just some little treats to enjoy during the Wedding Experience.”
“Oh, thanks.” I swing my legs off the couch and force myself into a sitting position. Although there’s nothing less interesting to me than a gift basket from Tessa. Unless it contains a pair of earplugs for whenever she opens her mouth.
Tessa marches over to the coffee table and hefts a basket onto its surface. Then she sets the extra ones down on the rug and commences snooping around the suite. “Damn, this room,” she says, walking over to the curtain and yanking it open. My head gives a stab as the sunlight slices into the room. “Wow, the view! My room looks out at the parking lot. How did you score this room? Eric must have some pull.”
“Oh, he does,” Darcy says, not bothering to set the record straight. “So much pull.” She winks at me again and then walks into the bedroom.
Her evil stepsister, the queen of boundary stomping, follows her in there and shuts the door.
Chapter 21
Rectangular and Heavy
Darcy
Is there something you need from me?” I ask Tessa, baffled as to why the little snoop is still on my heels.
“Why is Eric sleeping on the couch?” she demands, crossing her arms.
“Nap attack?” I shrug. “Why do you care?”