“All right…” Jamie had half a mind to embarrass herself and ask this woman she was still barely friends with if she would be a bridesmaid. She was sorely lacking them, and Jenny was constantly on her ass about it. Nothing was more important than having a dozen women flanking her at a wedding. “I promise I won’t throw the bouquet to you.”
“Oh, well, if you promise.”
“I wouldn’t lie about something like that.”
As a blast of sunlight came through the window and shielded the TV, Etta walked into the room, still dressed in her sweatshirt and pants. Her hair didn’t look much better, either. “How long have you been out here?” she asked. “I woke up over an hour ago, and you weren’t there. Thought you were in the bathroom.”
Jamie slowly turned to look at her again. “For an hour?”
Etta shrugged. “I don’t ask questions regarding that.”
“I couldn’t sleep, so I’ve been out here.”
Between both girlfriends making their appearances, Jamie and Nala decided to disconnect and get back to their relationships. Jamie pulled off her headset and turned off the TV with the remote. Etta picked up a binder she had left on a nearby chair and flipped it open, frowning.
“Anything you wanna talk about?”
Jamie pulled herself off the couch, quilt still wrapped around her shoulders. She went to Etta, resting her head against her fiancée’sarm. “We still need to pick a venue.”
“If we don’t pick one soon, Jenny is going to kill us both.”
“Something like that.”
Etta wrapped her arm around Jamie. “I should be home all day, but I need to sequester myself in my office right after breakfast to do the phone conference. Then you can have me.”
“I’m going back to bed.”
“I was about to suggest that.”
“Uh-huh.” Jamie dumped the quilt on the couch. “See you later.”
She slammed onto the bed, having enough time to crawl beneath the covers before her eyelids grew too heavy to bear. While she never entered the heavy sleep her body ultimately craved, she did doze for a good while, soaking up the sunshine as it came through the bedroom window and taking solace in the fact that a lazy day lay ahead.
No account for how many hours had passed when Etta wandered back into the bedroom, kissed her forehead, and dressed in pants and a loose cotton shirt. For her, that was casual daywear.It’s amazing she’s not wearing a suit to stay home. Etta would never spend a day at home wearing jeans and a T-shirt. The only times those pigs flew were when they were staying at the penthouse, and it was unlikely they would have guests who cared about how she was dressed. Luckily for Etta, she loved her Italian clothes.
“Five more minutes,” Jamie mumbled when she snuggled up next to her.
“It’s lunchtime.”
“I can eat it in five minutes.”
Jamie stayed true to her word and headed downstairs. She replaced her sleep shorts with jeans, but she still wore a baggy, faded T-shirt. Her hair was unkempt. She probably smelled. If Etta noticed and cared, she didn’t let it show as they sat down to salads and sandwiches.
This was the perfect opportunity to start talking about the wedding, so Jamie pulled out her binder and started going over details that Etta seemedmore than reluctant to acknowledge.She’s contributed her thoughts on the color, so that’s enough for her. Not that Jamie would complain. Etta, for all her obvious disinterest, wasn’t going to tell her fiancée that she wouldn’t plan a wedding with her.
Something sounded in the distance.
“What was that?” Etta asked. When it didn’t happen again, she went back to looking at their list of available venues for the wedding. “Never mind. Must be construction out on the road. They’ve been trimming trees.”
Jamie shrugged. “I already knocked the country club off the list, even though Jenny swears she could easily get everything arranged there. I mean, you don’t care for the place, and we had our engagement party there…”
It happened again. This time louder, echoing outside as if the surrounding trees were running away from what was coming. Etta turned in her seat, not that she could see anything through the wall. Jamie stood up. Deep in the back corners of her mind, she thought of something. Something dire. Something terrifying.
I know that sound.
A horn. Beeping in a rhythmic pattern that imitated a classic song.
“Is that…” Etta joined her in standing up. Beatrice scuttled past the dining room door with Harris right behind her. “John Lennon’s ‘Imagine’?”
