Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 97079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
“This is just a blip. It’s normally not this intense,” she argues.
“You’re getting married in a handful of weeks. Again, I say this with love, but we all want you to enjoy the process and not be stressed about work on top of everything else.”
“I really hate not having my own income,” she whispers. “I don’t want to be kept.”
This is such a deep-seated issue for Rix, and it pains me to see her so overwhelmed and on edge. But we’re not solving this problem today, so I’ll do what I can to help alleviate her tension with humor and a little encouragement.
I settle my hands on her shoulders. “Oh my sweet, sweet best friend. Tristan already asked if there’s a cucumber salad. If anyone is being kept, it’s that man.”
She barks out a laugh. “He did not.”
“He totally did. Last word on this for now, but that man wants to take care of you. We both know you don’t need taking care of, but you don’t have to keep proving it.” I push her hair over her shoulders. “Now, we are going to have the best time this afternoon, and we’re going to play stupid games and make our aunties and moms and grandparents happy, and those boys are going to wait on us hand and foot, and it will be glorious.”
“It will be glorious,” Rix repeats.
Nate reappears. “There are two vegan and two gluten-free charcuterie boards, and they are very clearly marked as such. I made sure with the help of Tally and Fee and some neon chalk things. I reviewed the entire spreadsheet, and everything is accounted for. And there’s also some kind of vegan meringue that is really freaking tasty, which is wild, because I thought those were made with egg whites.”
“You can use chickpea liquid,” Rix explains.
“Huh. Well, I have a new, deep appreciation for the liquid chickpeas swim in.”
Muffy pokes her head into the kitchen. “Trixie Rixie! There you are. The cake arrived, and I thought you might want to decide where it should go.”
“Yes. Absolutely.” Rix passes me her glass of prosecco and kisses me on the cheek. “Thank you. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
She links arms with her mom, and Muffy guides her out of the room.
I deflate a little and gulp her prosecco.
For a second I forget Nate is still in here. He’s staring at me, a furrow etched in his brow. He opens his mouth to speak, but I raise a hand. “Do not ask me about the spreadsheet.”
“But there—”
“—is no error.”
“The formula—”
“—is not wrong.”
“Why are you being so difficult?”
“I don’t know, Nathan, why am I being so difficult?”
I changed the formula so Rix wouldn’t stress about the cost after I sent the specs to Tristan, but I won’t type that in a message or say it out loud right now. I pull my compact and my lip gloss out of my purse so I have something to focus on that isn’t the delicious furrow in his brow.
“Why do you hide behind that?”
“Hide behind what?” Like I want to go out there with smudged eyeliner.
He stares at me.
I stare back, feeling increasingly unsettled by the intense way he’s looking at me.
He kissed me.
He ghosted me.
He never apologized.
He can’t stand me.
But instead of either of us walking away, we’re bickering like teenagers.
“Take your broody asshole down a notch, Nathan. Your black cloud is dimming my shine.”
I brush past him. I can’t let him get to me. Today is about Rix and celebrating her forever. I have plenty of time to fixate on why I never seem to get any closer to my own.
CHAPTER 4
NATE
“Excellent presentation, Nate. Great work.” My boss pats me on the shoulder as we leave the boardroom on Monday.
“Thanks, Andrew. I appreciate your support.” Under my suit jacket I’m sweating, but the stress has been worth it. I’ve only been with the company for a handful of months, and I’m already proving my worth. Even more exciting, I’ve been given a half-million-dollar budget to develop the prototype for my new skate and blade design. It’s a huge deal, considering how new I am. But I have career goals and a plan to attain them. If this project goes well, it could give us an edge against the competition, get us big contracts with the Terror hockey team, and make a name for me in the industry. It’s the start of something awesome.
“We should go for lunch to celebrate,” Greg, one of my colleagues, suggests.
He’s always up for a party as he’s on the rebound after his girlfriend of six years broke it off with him recently. She said she’d fallen out of love. He just reinforces my belief that love doesn’t last, and his single status makes him an easy work friend.
“Sure. Let me just drop my things in my office.” And change my shirt so I don’t have to wear my suit jacket in the sweltering July heat.