Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 125257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
She doesn’t need me to pick her up, of course, since she’s been busy all morning doing…whatever maids of honor do.
I head downstairs, my cat following, then racing ahead of me, to trip me at the bottom of the stairs, I expect.
No, to hide around the corner and stick out a paw.
But I evade the little stinker, turning into the kitchen to find my dad making a sandwich. A gourmet one by the looks of it, with avocado, some kind of artichoke spread, and then—I squint—is that fake meat?
“Dad, are you eating fake meat?”
He turns around, flashing a clever grin. “I’m trying this plant-based bologna. Remy recommended it.”
“When were you and Remy chatting about fake meat?”
“After the shower, when you were helping your brother.” Right, she mentioned when we left that they talked about Jumbotron-gate. “Fake meat, Jumbotrons, the dog she wants to adopt,” he says, then smiles. “She’s a good one, son.”
Something softens in me even more. I’m grateful he sees it too. Glad he’s enchanted, in his way, with the woman who’s captured my scarred heart.
I won’t need to break his heart again either.
If, buddy.
My chest clenches with an unwelcome tightness. Don’t assume the final score. It’s big to ask her to date me for real. She might need more time. She might want to be alone. She might not feel the same way I do, and I’ve got to be able to handle that.
But I handle fearsome defenders on the ice, and I won’t back down from this either.
“I hope you enjoy it,” I say, then ruffle his hair. “I should head to the wedding.”
And I hope this won’t be the last time he thinks I’m going to see her.
“Have fun. Take some more pics. That was a nice one at the game last night,” he remarks.
I turn around, arching a brow in question. “What was?”
“Picture of the two of you at the boards. Someone there took it, and it looks like it wound up on her sister’s feed too.”
“Aren’t you just a social media bug today?”
“Nah. Not me. Gavin and Mira showed it to me.”
Ah, that makes sense now.
I take off, but curiosity grips me when I get in the car. Before I leave, I need to see this pic. Want to see the evidence that he sees. I toggle over to social and hunt for it. I find it on Caroline’s feed, and there are a ton of comments already, including one from Jameson. I ignore that, in particular, and focus on the pic. It’s me looking like I’m blowing Remy a kiss and Caroline’s words: Look at my brilliant, amazing sister, living her best life.
And hell, if that doesn’t feel like an endorsement of my plans too. I’d like that best life to include me.
49
ASK ME ANYTHING
REMY
Already, Caroline’s broken the heel on her satin pump. I fixed it since superglue was already stocked in my bridal emergency kit. She’s lost the barrette hair clip. I tracked it down in her car, under the spare tire kit.
The tasks keep me from worrying too much about my life.
Right now, I’m focused on the makeup artist, who arrived early. She’s applying Caroline’s Fresh Face foundation here in the bridal suite at The Luxe hotel in the Presidio, with a breathtaking view of the Pacific.
The main videographer’s here too, naturally, capturing the makeup application for the live stream. So is Fallon, with her hair cinched back in a tight ponytail. She’s dressed in peach today, like the camera crew, and it’s weird to see her in that color. She’s only ever worn black, but she said she wanted her team to blend into the champagne roses so it’d be like they were not even here. “NEH,” she’d said.
I won’t mind that part of the wedding being over at all. No more acronyms. No more Fallon, skulking around.
But one more day, I keep telling myself. The pressure will end tomorrow.
With her tablet in hand, Fallon reviews what’s next on the live stream with Caroline. “Our research shows your viewers are connecting with the MOH, so we’ll follow her as she checks on the seating and the floral setup in a few,” she says, the direction itself recorded live, all part of Caroline’s efforts to show authentic behind-the-scenes content.
“Of course they love her.” Caroline beams, clearly proud of me. “My sister’s incredible.”
“Remy put this all together like that,” my mother chimes in with a snap of her fingers, facing the lens. She’s polished and put together in a mauve mother-of-the-bride dress that shows off her toned arms, because of course she has toned arms.
I wave a dismissive hand, not wanting or needing the praise, especially on camera. “I just want it to go well for you,” I say to my sister.
“And it will. Because we planned for it. Everything is set up perfectly in the waterfront ballroom," my mother says as the makeup artist sweeps highlighter over Caroline’s cheekbones. “Just like we wanted.”