Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 112961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
thirty-four CONNOR
Slow dancing with Fizzy is the last moment of quiet we have for the next four hours, because what follows is the most luxurious and impeccably planned event I have ever attended. There is an opulent eight-course meal, surprisingly tender speeches, riotous dancing, cake cutting, and woven throughout are endless people wanting to see Fizzy, hug her, take photos with her. Fizzy has jokingly described herself as the family disappointment, but it always felt like there was a kernel of truth there, and tonight, the internalized disconnect astounds me. It is clear from watching her that everyone in this room adores her beyond measure, and even though it isn’t her wedding day, the attention she receives makes it seem that a soft beam of light follows her through the room.
Or maybe that’s just my gaze.
Truly, I cannot take my eyes off her. And when she approaches me later, holding an unopened bottle of champagne and gesturing with a tilt of her head that she wants to escape, my heart does an aching dive in my chest. I didn’t realize until the opportunity was before me how much I wanted to be alone with her again before the night ends.
“Do you have to head out or can you come up and watch tonight’s episode with me?”
I know the right answer is that I should head home. I know, too, that when it comes down to it with this woman, it’s always up to me to set boundaries, and my feelings for her are contained behind a very thin, very fragile wall. I should do a better job protecting my heart.
But with two glasses of wine in my blood and feeling drugged from her proximity on my arm all night, the wrong answer comes easily: “I don’t have anywhere I need to be. Stevie is with Nat.”
The crowd is still going strong in our wake, and the evening hush of the lobby wraps us in an echoing bubble. Fizzy reaches forward, pressing the call button for the lift, and we look up together, watching for the Up arrow to illuminate.
“Your family is amazing.”
She laughs. “The funny thing is I think you really mean that.”
“I do.”
“Well, if you’re looking for a wife, my auntie Cindy is here for you, in case the three hundred times she mentioned it wasn’t enough.”
Remembering, I pull from my pocket a cocktail napkin with a number I think is written in lip pencil and drop it into the bin. “I’m good.”
“Was that Ashley’s number?”
“It was.”
Fizzy beams at me as the lift arrives, and we step in. “You’re my favorite.”
“I’d better be.”
“Have you already seen tonight’s episode?” she asks.
I stare quizzically down at her. “I edited most of it.”
“Is it good?”
“Please.”
“I’m gonna need you to unbutton me,” she says, gesturing casually to her dress like she’s informed me she’ll need me to pluck a piece of lint away or pick up her dry cleaning.
My mouth goes dry. “I figured.”
“I’ll behave myself.”
“No, you won’t,” I say, laughing.
“I promise to try, how’s that sound?”
“Empty and foolish, but I appreciate the gesture.”
The doors open and, still smiling, she leads me down the hall to her room, swiping the card at the door. Silence swallows us up as she drops her clutch and key on the table, and I’m consumed with a flushing panic. I’m not an idiot; I know this is exactly how sex starts. I’ve had sex with her already, am half in love with her at this point, and we’re both high on party vibes and champagne. Coming up here was a bloody terrible idea.
Fizzy walks over, turning her back to me. “Get to work.”
Luckily—or unluckily, depending on how you look at it—unbuttoning her gown goes infinitely faster than buttoning it did. But to my relief and true to her word, she does not immediately let it fall to the floor and face me in whatever complicated lacy underwear situation she’s hiding under there. She steps away with a hand holding it up at the front, smiling over her shoulder at me. “I’m gonna change in the bathroom; you get the episode pulled up.”
I find the remote, connect to the right app, and get it ready to play. With Fizzy still changing, I duck out onto the balcony to call Stevie. The cool sea air washes over my flushed skin, and I draw in a steadying breath before pulling my phone from my pocket.
When Nat answers, I can hear another breathless, adrenaline-fueled voice chattering in an excited stream in the background.
“Greetings from fangirl central,” Nat says.
“Again?” I ask, laughing. I wasn’t sure Stevie would still be awake but should have known better. The Wonderland concert DVD has been viewed no fewer than ten times in the week since Fizzy gave it to my kid.
“She’s watching with Insu and giving him a blow-by-blow of the concert with you and Fizzy. You’re a shoo-in for parent of the year, you jackass. How’s the wedding?”