Hey, how’s it going?
Daisy
Great! I was actually just about to text you. Loren’s coming over to finalize some of the wedding plans, and I was hoping you could join us!
Lovely.
Wedding planning doesn’t top my list of ideal activities for today, but I can’t exactly back out of the offer now. I reply that I’m on my way, attributing Daisy’s oversight to her naivety. She’s not usually this insensitive, but I doubt she’s had much experience with divorce or even marriage, despite already having a legal husband of convenience.
Now that she and Landry Reed have decided to tie the knot for real, they’re preparing for another ceremony to validate their union in the eyes of the Catholic church. From what I’m told, their marriage has to be blessed in order to consummate it, a concept I haven’t been able to wrap my mind around.
But maybe I’m too jaded after giving myself to the same man for so many years and never noticing a difference. Married or unmarried, in or out of love, it was just sex. Sometimes it was fun, sometimes itfelt more like a chore, but it’s always been an essential part of a relationship. In my experience, men prefer to have their physical needs met without the hassle of emotional intimacy, and they certainly weren’t willing to wait until marriage.
“I know you said it’s just sex, but it’s still going to mean something to me.”
I bite my lip as I’m hit with another unfortunate flashback from this past weekend, but I can’t even begin to deal withthatright now. No, I refuse to let myself think about the kind of man I let slip through my fingers or whether things might have gone differently had my divorce been finalized a week earlier.
I sniff once and square my shoulders, stuffing my emotional wreckage back inside its box and resealing the airtight lid before I drive over to Daisy’s place. It’s a good thing, too, since her sister-in-law’s minivan is parked in the driveway when I arrive.
“Okay, so we’ll have a garden party motif for the bridal shower, and then we transition to the bachelorette party theme, ‘Daisy Gets Her Garden Watered,’ ” Loren announces proudly as I walk inside.
I stifle a laugh and watch as Daisy’s cheeks pinken, thinking my super-conservative friend will shoot down the idea.
“I love it!” Daisy says with an excited squeal, and her seizure response dog and I both raise an eyebrow in surprise.
I’d expect a little spice from Loren, since she isn’t shy about her propensity for romance novels. Not to mention, sheismarried to Blake. But sweet, wholesome Daisy is another story. The woman’s sewing her own wedding dress for crying out loud.
“What do you think, Claire?” Daisy asks, yanking a needle through the pile of white linen in her lap. Her recently acquired SRD, Juniper, settles at the foot of the sofa, watching dutifully.
“Sounds like fun,” I fib. “Just let me know how I can help.”
“Don’t worry, my sister and I will plan everything. All you have to do is show up,” Loren reassures us, barely casting a glance my way.
I nod and force a smile, wishing I’d gone straight home after all.
I look around for a distraction and pick up a framed family photo on the side table. A middle-aged man and woman huddle together,grinning widely as they pose among their nine adult children, judging from the resemblance. My gaze automatically zeroes in on Daisy’s angelic smile. But my heart begins racing as soon as I recognize the blue-eyed, blond-haired hottie with his arm slung loosely over her shoulders, especially once I spot the brown cord peeking out from beneath his collar.
“So I’ll be with Rowan?”
My head pops up when Loren speaks the name already caught in my throat.
“Who?” I blurt out like a belligerent owl.
Daisy glances my way, her brow furrowed. “My brother, Rowan? He’s Landry’s best man. They were roommates throughout college and medical school. You probably haven’t met him yet.”
My pulse throbs in my ears, and I blink down at the photo as I’m hit with one realization after another.
Holy shit…
Did I really have a failed one-night stand with Daisy’s brother?
No, it couldn’t be the same Rowan, right? I mean, what are the chances?
Besides, my Rowan wasn’t a LaFleur. He was a …
Now that I think about it, I’m not sure I got his last name. Despite everything else I learned about Rowan during the ER visit, the only surname I remember is that of his emergency contact.
“Dr. Reed … my college roommate and my closest friend … he and my baby sister kind of eloped in secret … the big church ceremony they’re planning … he wants me to be his best man, of course …”
