Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 101254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
I take a bite of the chicken, and it’s moist, succulent…and spicy.
I adore spicy food. My mother’s Mexican cooking has made me immune to most heat, but this—scotch bonnet peppers, according to the printed menu sitting at each of our places—has me feeling like smoke is coming out of my ears.
I take a quick drink of my water.
“Can I get you another cocktail?” a server asks.
“No, thank you. But more water would be great.”
“Coming right up.”
I take another bite of the chicken and then a drink of water. The vegetables and pigeon peas are easier to get down. When I finally realize I can eat no more, half of my chicken is left on my plate.
But I did okay.
The server brings out our dessert—passionfruit gelato. It’s a beautiful orange color, and ice cream is one thing I have no trouble with.
I take a bite and let the creaminess flow over my tongue. The passionfruit gives it a mango-like sweetness plus a citrusy tang.
And it’s good. I find myself enjoying it.
I take another bite when something touches my shoulder.
I nearly jump out of my seat.
“Whoa,” Terry the bartender says. “I didn’t mean to startle you, sweetheart.”
I’m not your sweetheart.
The words are on the tip of my tongue, but he’s been calling all the ladies sweetheart. I breathe in and exhale slowly. “It’s okay. Did you need something?”
“I just wanted to check to see if you wanted me to pop the champagne. Everyone seems to be finished with dessert.”
Great. But I can’t put this off forever. “Yeah, sure. That would be great.”
Terry ceremoniously opens the champagne, and I stare at the cloud of condensation that drifts off the lip of the bottle. He pours Skye’s flute first and then moves on to Betsy, Kathy, and Daniela, saving mine for last. Then he bows quickly and leaves.
I pick up my spoon to tap on my flute but then realize they’re already all staring at me.
Okay, then.
Showtime.
I rise.
“I want to thank all of you guys for coming tonight,” I say.
“Are you kidding? An all-expense-paid trip to Jamaica to celebrate Skye?” Kathy laughs. “You didn’t have to exactly twist our arms, Tessa.”
Daniela and Betsy join in the laughter, and Skye’s cheeks blush.
I force a smile and continue. “I’m thrilled to be Skye’s maid of honor. When we met our first year at BU, we had absolutely nothing in common. I was a math major, and Skye was an art major. Totally different. But somehow we seemed to click, and within months we were besties. Skye’s an only child, so she asked me to be her maid of honor long ago—way before she met Braden—and now I guess she’s stuck with me.”
I get a few laughs at that, though it’s not really what I was going for.
Stop being self-deprecating, I tell myself. Speak from your damned heart.
I draw in a breath. “When Braden first approached Skye, she wasn’t sure whether she should respond to his advances. He pursued her hard. We even joked that he was a stalker. I remember telling her to ease up. He’s a damned billionaire, so until he boils a rabbit in your kitchen, you should go for it.”
More giggles. At least I was going for laughter that time.
“Skye has always been a little bit of a control freak.”
This time I get guffaws.
“You’re kidding, right?” From Betsy, rolling her eyes.
But they laugh again, and I join in, forcing out some chuckles.
“But of course Braden Black was the catch of the century, as we all know. The blue-collar billionaire himself, and he was interested in my Skye. So I told her to go for it. To let her hair down and take a chance.”
My words are true. That’s exactly what I told her. And now? I can’t even let my own hair down.
“And maybe,” I continue, without realizing what I’m saying, “maybe it’s time I take my own advice.” I pick up my flute of champagne. “So Skye decided to let her hair down, and she found something way better than a quick fuck with a hot billionaire.”
More snickers and giggles.
“She found the love of her life, and when you’re in the presence of Skye and Braden together, you can’t help but feel that love. It emanates from them. It’s thick and almost visible in its intensity.” I meet Skye’s gaze, tears forming in my eyes. “Skye, I love you. You’re the best friend a girl could ask for, and I’m so, so happy for you. So here’s to you, to your husband-to-be, and to the rest of you ladies as well. Let’s celebrate the beauty and wonder that is Skye Manning!”
I raise my glass, clink it to each of the others around me, and then take a sip.
I used to love champagne. Not so much because of its flavor or the bubbles or anything, but because of what it represents. Class and decadence.