Glancing at Izzy, I give Dolores a there-are-small-ears-attached-to-a-big-mouth-in-the-room look. “She wrote to say it would be best if I don’t come by today to help.”
Feeding Milo some bacon, Dolores shrugs. “Good. Let Amber and the tattoo sisters take care of that nonsense. You don’t have time for it anyway.”
“Tell that to my churning gut. She’d prefer not to see me until the rehearsal, which means this whole business will be hanging over my head until then.”
“Let her have her tantrum and lick her own wounds for once. It’ll do her good not to have her big sister come rushing in to make it all better.” Dolores gives me a firm nod. “To be honest, it would have done her some good if she’d heard no a little more often as a child.”
The word “child” catches Izzy’s attention. “Who?”
“Not you,” I say, hoping to distract her from the topic at hand.
“You telled me no all the time when I was a child,” she says, slurping the milk off her spoon.
Chuckling, I walk over to her, ruffle her hair with one hand, and plant a big kiss on her forehead. “And look at what a lovely young lady you’ve turned out to be.”
“Yup,” Izzy says with a big nod.
“Now, don’t slurp your milk. Sip it quietly, please,” I whisper.
Sighing, I feel a tug of worry pull at my stomach and settle into my chest. My words come back to mind. Moron, idiot, vapid housewife. Oh God. There really is no coming back from that, is there? “Oh, God, why did I say those things about Dane?”
“Because they’re true. Now stop dwelling on it,” Dolores says. “You’ve got a far bigger dream to chase than marrying some moron who likes to smash things.”
“That’s not nice.”
“Nice is for pastors’ wives and wallpaper, which, if you ask me, are pretty much the same thing. Now, you go study or have a nap or something. Izzy and I have a very busy day planned of finding new bacon recipes, and we don’t need you getting in the way of all our creating.”
***
I knock on Leo’s door and wait for a minute for him to open it. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of board shorts. He’s also fresh from the shower and is rubbing his wet hair with a towel, causing little drops to land on his sculpted chest. I zone out for a second, completely forgetting why I came out here in the first place. He tosses his towel onto the bed and takes a few steps closer to me, raising his right arm up and gripping the doorjamb.
When I finally manage to tear my eyes from his body, I’m greeted by his smug amusement. Letting me off the hook for the undignified drooling, he says, “Hey, you. Aren’t you supposed to be at your parents’ place tying ribbons onto key-shaped bottle openers?”
Oh God, I want to launch myself into the room and kiss him for days. The way he says “hey, you” is like this sexy combination of delighted and really turned on that just does it for me.
“Bree?” he says with a light chuckle. “You okay?”
I shake my head a bit. “Super great, really. I wanted to see if you need a ride to work later. I’m not going to my parents’ after all.”
Concern crosses his gorgeous face. “Everything all right?”
“Not really. My sister and I haven’t exactly made up yet, so she thought it best if I skip out today.”
“That doesn’t sound good.” Letting go of the door, he turns and takes the two steps it takes to cross to the dresser, then opens the top drawer and pulls out a grey T-shirt. I watch, utterly disappointed as he puts it on.
Stepping inside, I lean against the wall, trying not to imagine him pressing me up against it and planting soft kisses down my neck. Or urgent ones. Or soft, yet urgent ones. Bugger. I’m thinking about it, aren’t I? What were we talking about?
My sister. Right. “Yeah, it’s not great, but I’m sure we’ll sort it out before the wedding. Actually, I’m not sure if that’s true. She might not forgive me, and I wouldn’t blame her. I’d kill to skip the whole thing. It’s going to be so awkward.”
“Listen, you wouldn’t want a plus-one for the big day, would you?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck. “For moral support, I mean.”
My heart leaps at the thought of having him there with me. Huge step up from Mr. Bananas. “Oh God, I’d never subject you to my entire family. You’ve met Dolores. Imagine her times three hundred.”
“In that case, I definitely want to come. She’s hilarious.”
I give him a quizzical look. “Why would you even want to come?”
“Because you need a friend, and I’d like to be one,” he says, our eyes locking for one delicious second. “But mainly for the free meal. Food is fucking expensive.”
