“Stop quotingHer Majesty.”
“I take it you’re not referring to Queen Elizabeth.”
“Not unless she wears dresses made from meat.”
I bark a laugh. I love how Dayton can banter, but I don’t have time for it right now. If I don’t put an end to it, he’ll never stop.
“Are you coming over?”
“Does my momma put sugar in her tea?”
My eyes roll upward even as a smile overtakes my face. “I’ve never met your mother, but I’m guessing she likes her tea sweet.”
“Of course she does. She’s a proper Southerner.”
“I’m getting off the phone now.”
“Yankee.” He practically spits the word.
“Is that an insult?”
“What do you think?”
“Bye, Dayton.”
The line goes dead. Dayton likes to hang up first. He says it makes him feel powerful.
Twenty minutes later he walks into my house holding a garment bag and a bottle of pink champagne. I never drink during the day, but I’m relieved to see the bottle. I need some liquid courage.
I sit facing the bathroom wall, straddling the closed toilet, while Dayton blow-dries my hair. He’s focused on his task and not talking while I replay last night’s events in my head. What is it about Noah that makes me unable to control myself? His scent, his face, his voice, they all cause a knee-jerk reaction in me.
I bite my lip as Dayton yanks my head back with the tug of the round brush. All of this isn’t a good idea. I know that. Nothing good can come from seeing Noah again. But what’s the purpose ofgood? Where doesgoodget people? And what ifgoodandrightaren’t synonymous?
Exposing my heart to Noah is the opposite of good.
But it’s not wrong.
And that’s why I’m letting Dayton yank on my head with the torture device he’s wielding. It’s also why I’ve agreed to wear the emerald green dress he brought from his shop. The bodice is so tight I’ll be short of breath the entire evening, but while I’m gasping for air, I’m going to look amazing.
22
Noah
“Alyssa wants to kill you.”
“Hello to you too,” I say to Brody, walking into his makeshift dressing room at the church.
Reaching out, I rub his newly hair-free cheek with an open palm. “Smooth as Grandma’s ass.”
Brody’s lips turn down even further. “Fuck you. And don’t disrespect the dead.”
“I thought it was more of a compliment,” I mutter, turning away. “I’ll find Alyssa and apologize.” Is it really that hard to find a chair and squeeze someone in at a table? This wedding stuff sounds like a bunch of high expectations and nonsense.
Brody’s rapid head shake stops me before I can walk out the door to find the blushing bride.
“What?”
“Don’t do it.” He grabs his beer from the little table. “She’s crazy today,” he pauses, lips poised for a drink. “Lie low and behave. She’s happy she’ll get to see Ember again, and she already had the planner rework some stuff to accommodate, but she’s on a warpath.”
