don't."
"Could have fooled me."
"It's just that if you were going to swing by and pick me up and take me to brunch while you're on your way home from screwing what's-her-face with the stripper name, I think that's kind of shitty and disrespectful."
"Really?" Preston chuckles. "I think it's shitty and disrespectful that you assume I'd do that."
"Like you never have?"
Preston inhales deeply, then exhales so long and loud, it sounds like he's emptying his lungs. "This truce isn't going very well," he says eventually.
He's right. I'm instigating. When my guard is down, he goes in for the kill. If I stay alert–and bitchy, he doesn't have any reason to think I'm weak and ripe for an attack. I realize how crazy this sounds. But I know him.
For a few minutes, I hear nothing but the sound of the tires gripping the road and the luxury machine working as it was designed. Preston is dangerous when he's quiet, and he's very, very quiet. I wouldn't put it past him to quit this wedding again because I won't be nice to him.
"Okay. I apologize." And inside, I die a little. "It's hard to go from snapping at you to being nice to you."
"I know. For me too."
"But... we agreed. So. I'm trying."
"You are?" He takes a peek at me out of the corner of his eye. "Since when?"
"Since now, jackass."
"Your idea of nice needs more work. Say something pleasant."
"You first."
"Fine,” he says, after what feels like a lifetime of silence, but was really only a few seconds. “Your dress looks nice on you. Very sexy." He grins. "Happy?"
I'm trying not to blush. He sounds like he actually means what he said, and despite the fact that he bugs the shit out of me, I'm flattered.
"Thank you, "I say quietly. "You look really nice."
"Thanks."
I heave a sigh like that was the most difficult thing I've ever had to do. Preston busts out laughing and doesn't stop until we pull up to the gates at Vizcaya.
Nate and Morgan's three story Spanish Mediterranean style home overlooks Sand Lake and sits on a pricy, exclusive piece of real estate. Five bedrooms, six bathrooms, formal and casual living and dining areas, a heated pool, three car garage and ample space to be anywhere in the house and feel deserted. When Nate travels for conferences, Morgan hates to be in the house alone, so I pack up a few days’ worth of clothing and move in.
Preston buzzes us in with his code and once we're inside the gates, it's a 30 second drive to the circular driveway. He parks behind a black Lexus that I recognize as Kent and Brandy's. As I step out of the car, I see someone else has parked behind us and Jackie, who I haven't seen in weeks, climbs out of the passenger seat.
My jaw drops.
"Shut up," she mumbles through a smug grin as she waddles toward me, her early pregnancy belly creating the most adorable bump in her maxi dress. She fusses at me but she's glowing and grinning and I can see by the glint in her eye that she's overjoyed. I'm so happy for her I could bust.
Years ago, Jackie lost a baby and her doctors said it might be hard for her to get pregnant again. The stress of trying and failing destroyed a long relationship. Frankly, I was happy to see her ex fiancé, Bryan, gone but sad to see Jackie want a baby and not be able to have one.
When Matt came along, she fell for him so quickly that I was afraid for her, for her heart. I love it when I'm wrong. About other people, that is.
Matt steps out of the driver's side of their sedan looking a bit more like a chef than before. The sympathy weight that he’s gained looks good on him.
We make our way up the winding walk to the front door, which opens before we can get to it. Morgan waves us in, babbling about the menu. A few of our other friends are already inside, chatting over trays of finger food and holding champagne glasses filled with pale orange liquid. After that ride, I'm thankful for a drink, so I grab a mimosa and make my way around the table, plating a few things here and there… a mini
"Could have fooled me."
"It's just that if you were going to swing by and pick me up and take me to brunch while you're on your way home from screwing what's-her-face with the stripper name, I think that's kind of shitty and disrespectful."
"Really?" Preston chuckles. "I think it's shitty and disrespectful that you assume I'd do that."
"Like you never have?"
Preston inhales deeply, then exhales so long and loud, it sounds like he's emptying his lungs. "This truce isn't going very well," he says eventually.
He's right. I'm instigating. When my guard is down, he goes in for the kill. If I stay alert–and bitchy, he doesn't have any reason to think I'm weak and ripe for an attack. I realize how crazy this sounds. But I know him.
For a few minutes, I hear nothing but the sound of the tires gripping the road and the luxury machine working as it was designed. Preston is dangerous when he's quiet, and he's very, very quiet. I wouldn't put it past him to quit this wedding again because I won't be nice to him.
"Okay. I apologize." And inside, I die a little. "It's hard to go from snapping at you to being nice to you."
"I know. For me too."
"But... we agreed. So. I'm trying."
"You are?" He takes a peek at me out of the corner of his eye. "Since when?"
"Since now, jackass."
"Your idea of nice needs more work. Say something pleasant."
"You first."
"Fine,” he says, after what feels like a lifetime of silence, but was really only a few seconds. “Your dress looks nice on you. Very sexy." He grins. "Happy?"
I'm trying not to blush. He sounds like he actually means what he said, and despite the fact that he bugs the shit out of me, I'm flattered.
"Thank you, "I say quietly. "You look really nice."
"Thanks."
I heave a sigh like that was the most difficult thing I've ever had to do. Preston busts out laughing and doesn't stop until we pull up to the gates at Vizcaya.
Nate and Morgan's three story Spanish Mediterranean style home overlooks Sand Lake and sits on a pricy, exclusive piece of real estate. Five bedrooms, six bathrooms, formal and casual living and dining areas, a heated pool, three car garage and ample space to be anywhere in the house and feel deserted. When Nate travels for conferences, Morgan hates to be in the house alone, so I pack up a few days’ worth of clothing and move in.
Preston buzzes us in with his code and once we're inside the gates, it's a 30 second drive to the circular driveway. He parks behind a black Lexus that I recognize as Kent and Brandy's. As I step out of the car, I see someone else has parked behind us and Jackie, who I haven't seen in weeks, climbs out of the passenger seat.
My jaw drops.
"Shut up," she mumbles through a smug grin as she waddles toward me, her early pregnancy belly creating the most adorable bump in her maxi dress. She fusses at me but she's glowing and grinning and I can see by the glint in her eye that she's overjoyed. I'm so happy for her I could bust.
Years ago, Jackie lost a baby and her doctors said it might be hard for her to get pregnant again. The stress of trying and failing destroyed a long relationship. Frankly, I was happy to see her ex fiancé, Bryan, gone but sad to see Jackie want a baby and not be able to have one.
When Matt came along, she fell for him so quickly that I was afraid for her, for her heart. I love it when I'm wrong. About other people, that is.
Matt steps out of the driver's side of their sedan looking a bit more like a chef than before. The sympathy weight that he’s gained looks good on him.
We make our way up the winding walk to the front door, which opens before we can get to it. Morgan waves us in, babbling about the menu. A few of our other friends are already inside, chatting over trays of finger food and holding champagne glasses filled with pale orange liquid. After that ride, I'm thankful for a drink, so I grab a mimosa and make my way around the table, plating a few things here and there… a mini
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