Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
"Which parts?" I ask, as I preheat the oven.
"The usual things. The mystery, the novelty, the new relationship energy. I love Cyn in a different way now. A deeper way. I wouldn't trade it for the butterflies in my stomach I felt when we were teenagers. But I miss that sometimes, too. I miss not knowing exactly what my life was going to look like."
"You do?" I ask.
"Of course."
"But you're Mr. Five Year Plan," I say.
"So, maybe I don't want the same level of excitement you do. I still want to have an adventure every now and then."
"Isn't marriage an adventure?"
"And kids will be too. That will be a lot of novelty. And Cyn will be a great mom." He smiles. "I can't wait to go on this journey with her. But that doesn't mean I don't notice the freedom you have. That doesn't mean I never wish I could take three months off to help Mama move to Italy. The way you could, if you wanted."
Is that what he expects me to do? Is that what I should do? No, Mama and I would kill each other after two months. But I can go with her for a few weeks. "Then another three to travel around Europe," I say.
He nods exactly.
"You never had a rebellious phase." I open the bag of flour and sift. "Maybe that's what we need to do tomorrow. Take you out for a wild afternoon."
"No strippers."
A laugh spills from my lips. "No. A proper Daniel sort of rebellion. A shirt that doesn't match your pants."
"A tattoo my parents would hate."
"A last hurrah," I say. "Let me plan it."
He raises a brow. "Let me think about it."
"Sure." I settle into the conversation and the task.
It feels like old times. When we were kids and he trusted me, saw the best in me, wanted the world for me.
But I still feel that little pang—
That worry about his fiancée.
So, I do the smart thing.
I outsource it to Ivy.
Romeo: Can you do me a favor?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ivy
Cynthia steps out of the dressing room in a midi satin cowl neck. The ivory color is gorgeous against her dark skin. And the fabric drapes perfectly over her long, narrow body.
Really, in this, even in her bare feet, she looks like a model.
But then again, now that we're at outfit number seven, I'm pretty sure Cynthia looks like a model in everything.
She's not just beautiful.
She's absolutely stunning.
She turns to the three-panel mirror and studies the smooth fabric. "I don't know. It just doesn't say, 'I'm a bride, but on my terms.'"
I can't agree. It says exactly that. It's in the white family, and it's formal, but it's also shorter and sexier and infinitely less fussy than most wedding gowns.
It's perfect, really.
Like half of her selections.
For a woman who lives in shorts, she's awfully picky.
But, hey, it's her wedding. Even if it's a casual one.
"Can I send this one to Meredith?" I ask. "See what she thinks?"
"Okay, but I won't change my mind," she says.
"Sure." I hold up my phone and snap a photo. It's not the world's best lighting, but it captures the angles. And Cynthia is kind enough to strike a few cheeky poses. Though she does so with considerably less enthusiasm than last time.
This is the third photo I've sent Meredith. The other two were of a truly terrible, and a truly wonderful, dress. I wanted to get a range. And get her opinion on what's working and what isn't.
I send the photo with a woosh. Then I check my texts from Romeo.
He wants a favor.
A favor with Cynthia specifically.
He thought about it, and I'm right. He sees Daniel's concern about their chemistry. And he wants me to reassure him. Somehow.
How?
I don't have some sort of therapist Jedi mind trick here.
I talk to people like anyone else.
Although—
I do have an idea.
Ivy: I'll see what I can do. Are you getting into trouble without me?
He sends me a picture of his kitchen, covered in baking supplies.
Romeo: Don't tell Cyn we're trying to recreate the cake from their first anniversary.
Ivy: That's sweet. They're a good couple. I'm glad we're helping them.
Even if it is by less honest means than I'd prefer.
I let my fake boyfriend return to his baking, and I send Meredith the picture of Cynthia.
While I wait for her feedback, we try to talk about what Cynthia doesn't like about the dress. Despite her model looks, Cynthia has little grasp of fashion vocabulary. She can't articulate whether it's the color, cut, hem, silhouette, or fabric.
She speaks in vibes.
And it's just not the right vibe.
We go through a few more dresses. A frilly princess number in white. Which is really not it. Another ornate dress, in a vibrant shade of red. This time, at least she knows she likes the color, likes that it's untraditional, but she hates the rest.