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)
I had no idea Essie was math smart. I also had no idea I’d be attending a bridal shower.
Since I haven’t looked at Essie’s emails, I can’t make any valuable contributions, and asking questions will only highlight my complete lack of involvement. So I just sit here and continue to be annoyingly impressed with her attention to detail, exceptional organizational skills, and ability to run numbers in her head. I feel like I’ve underestimated her—not just now, but in the past—and that bothers me for a lot of reasons.
In high school, she was the girl everyone wanted to date. She was voted hottest girl in the school all four years, and she was fun, a literal ray of sunshine. She didn’t hide the fact that she loved all things princess, and she always had a new boyfriend. For some reason I assumed she floated through every part of her life the same way, but now I have to wonder what else I’ve been wrong about.
Eventually we move on to the stag and doe, which is also a co-ed event. Again, the point is to raise money. This time for a local women’s shelter.
“I have a list of prizes and the corresponding games they would be best suited for.” Essie consults another beautiful spreadsheet with projected earning potential for each game already outlined, based on prizes. “I’m still on the hunt for a Plinko board, though.”
“You mean from The Price is Right?” I ask.
“Exactly!”
“I’ll make it. I can make a Plinko board. What else do you need made? Or done? I’m good at organizing things, too.” I can’t allow this to continue. Not when I’m literally the king of organization.
“My shoes have never been lined up so perfectly,” Flip agrees.
I give him a look.
“And my towels have never been folded so uniformly. If you want to make my bed for me too, I’m down, honey bear.” Flip winks again.
I like neat and orderly. I function better when everything is in the right place.
I ignore Flip. “Seriously, though. I’ve got the Plinko board.” I have an engineering degree. It should be straightforward.
“Okay, great!” Essie makes a note. “Oh! I almost forgot. I have something for you.”
I expect her to hand it to Rix, or literally anyone but me. It’s book shaped. “What is this for?”
“I saw it and thought of you.” She blinks up at me, all innocent-like.
“That was so nice of you,” Rix says.
“Thanks?” I peel the tape, careful not to rip the paper. My neck itches like it’s wrapped in a wool scarf because everyone is watching me. I frown as I read the title. A Guide to Happiness: 100 strategies for a happier, healthier you!
Flip barks out a laugh. Tristan snickers. Essie smiles, and Rix hides hers behind her drink. I bite the inside of my cheek as it heats. “Ha-ha, thanks.” I have nowhere to hide it, so I flip the book over and set it on the table between us.
Essie steers the conversation back to the stag and doe, and then it’s on to wedding-wear updates. “I’ve already stopped by the tuxedo shop to confirm that the handkerchiefs and ties match the bridesmaid dresses. And Nate has been for his fitting, so we are good to go there.”
“Isn’t that my job?”
“Mm-hmm.” Essie’s voice pitches up. “I emailed you about it, but I didn’t get a response, so I took care of it. You should have all the details if you want to follow up.”
“Right, yeah. You should probably just text instead of email.”
Essie’s smile turns wooden. “Okay. I can do that.”
By the end of dinner, my competitive side has been fully activated. Essie’s here with a fucking binder of information, taking over everything, and I look like a complete slacker—and a shitty brother and best man. It’s fucking on. Whatever games she has for this stag and doe, I’ll have better ones. And prizes. I work for one of the top sports-equipment companies in Canada. I should be able to score some awesome stuff.
Flip holds the door open for Essie as we leave the restaurant. I want to charley horse him when he leans in and whispers something that makes her laugh. The fuck is wrong with me?
“You okay, man? You seem…more tense than usual,” Tristan says quietly. “Work still super busy? You know Flip will help out with whatever you need.”
“Work is fine. Good, actually. And I can handle things. I just didn’t realize Essie was communicating everything through the email I don’t check very often,” I explain. “Once we switch to text, we’ll be good.”
“Okay. Cool. And thanks again for picking up Ess. It took the pressure off Bea.” He pats my back.
Essie waves and hops into the back of Rix’s SUV while Flip joins me in my car.
He reclines in the passenger seat and stares at me as I fasten my seat belt, check all my mirrors, and adjust the air. “What?”