Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“I’m good,” I say, reaching to take it from him. But before I can take it, my cell rings. I pull it out of my pocket. It’s Katherine.
“Hi, Katherine,” I answer. “I’m just with Hunter, making arrangements for the party weekend.”
She squeals. I smile at my sister’s excitement. “And you’re getting along okay?” she asks.
“Absolutely. We’re best buds,” I say. Hunter raises his eyebrows in silent accusation.
“I can’t tell you how happy that makes me,” Katherine says. “When Ed and I have babies, you’re going to be the best auntie and uncle of all time.” I wonder what Katherine would think if she knew that sometimes Hunter found her irritating.
“Okay, well, call me later. We can catch up when you’re back home.”
“Totally,” I say. “And don’t worry. It’s all going to be perfect.”
Hunter shakes his head ominously. I hang up with Katherine and reach for my box again.
“Let’s just call a truce, okay?” I ask. “At least in front of my sister and Ed. Let’s agree that to make the most important people in our lives happy, we can pretend to get along.”
“Sure, Lucy,” he says, and I can’t quite read his tone. Maybe he’s being genuine. Whether he’s faking doesn’t really matter. I don’t want Katherine stressed that Hunter and I are at each other’s throats. She wants us to get along, so that’s what she’ll get. Even if we have to force it every step of the way.
He releases the box and opens his front door for me. I head back toward the elevator. I glance back at Hunter’s apartment. He’s got his arms crossed in front of him, leaning on the doorjamb, watching me. The T-shirt he’s wearing shows off his muscled arms, and I didn’t realize his jeans hung from his hips like that. It’s almost obscene. He looks different from how he did in Massachusetts.
Not Colin Firth had a baby with Matthew Macfadyen hot, but not bad.
“Thank you for getting me into a cab at the engagement party,” he calls out. “I could have really embarrassed myself there.”
“No problem,” I half shout. It’s a little too late to start thanking me for that. He’s only done it because he knows this time he’s pushed too far. It doesn’t matter. I’m going to try my best to fake it with him. It’s obviously important to Katherine.
Chapter Eight
Lucy
Katherine grabs my hand excitedly as we follow our mother into the wedding-dress boutique. I haven’t seen her dress yet, and I’m looking forward to getting a preview. Yes, it means I’ve had to leave Manhattan and come up to Massachusetts again, but Katherine really wanted me here. I get to try on my bridesmaid dress too.
“I really hope you like it,” Katherine says. “My dress as well as yours.”
“I’m sure I’ll love both,” I say. “You have fantastic taste.”
“It doesn’t matter what she thinks,” Mom says, bristling. “It’s a beautiful dress, and you look like a picture-perfect bride. And the bridesmaid dresses are fine.”
Katherine and I share a look. Mom seems a little more tense than usual today.
The air conditioning in the shop is set to arctic, so I rummage around my huge bag for my favorite pink cardigan that I bought three years ago from Zara and still love. One of the shop assistants shows Mom and me to a seating area and offers us champagne, while another takes Katherine off to get changed.
“How’s the bachelorette party planning coming along?” Mom asks.
“Good,” I reply. Now we have the house sorted, it’s been easy to plan around it. I’ve arranged for logs to be delivered just in case there isn’t enough dry driftwood to set a fire on the beach. I’ve got graham crackers and marshmallows for beachside s’mores, and a chocolate fondue fountain for intermittent snacking through the weekend. After trading messages with Hunter, we’ve arranged a restaurant for Friday night when we’ll have family members joining us, and a private chef to come to the house on Saturday night. We have flights booked into Martha’s Vineyard Airport direct, so Hunter’s flashy idea of a helicopter wasn’t necessary.
Hunter and I have been very civil in our messages. And he’s actually been pretty responsive. Our truce is holding.
“I hope it’s not going to be tacky,” Mom says as she shifts in her seat next to me.
“It’s not going to be tacky, Mom,” I reply. “It’s Martha’s Vineyard. It’s impossible to be tacky on Martha’s Vineyard.”
“I’m sure you’d find a way. Katherine and you have very different ideas of what a bachelorette should be.”
“No, we don’t,” I say. If I were going to organize my own bachelorette, I might not have chosen Martha’s Vineyard, but there’s nothing about the weekend I’m not looking forward to. And anyway, I’ve been completely focused on giving Katherine the weekend she wants. Any conflicting ideas we might have had, I’ve set aside.