He rolls his eyes dramatically. “For the last time, it wasn’t because I was being pervy. It was because I knew you would hate it.”
“Wow, you’re such a great best friend.”
He smiles broadly. “I know.”
Chuckling, I go to my bedroom, where I quickly strip out of the dress and the heels and trade them out for fluffy black slippers, a pair of cotton shorts, and a murder mystery shirt. I toss my hair up in a bun, then stare down at my engagement ring. Should I wear it out there, or should I tell him first?
I nibble on my bottom lip as I try to figure it out. Five weeks, that’s so quick. Like lightning-fast quick, and sure, of course I want to marry Brian, I love him, but five weeks? I’m barely able to wrap my head around the fact I’m getting married.
I tug on the ring and pull it off my finger. I think it’s best that I don’t go rushing into the kitchen with the ring but rather ease the idea into conversation.
I set my ring on the dresser, then walk back into the kitchen, where Breaker has set up two place settings on the table with drinks and lots of napkins. We’re going to need them.
The tacos Breaker gets are from a local food truck around the corner. They make tacos de birria, and they are so good that I would probably get them every night if I didn’t have self-control. But because they come with a dipping sauce that the meat was cooked in, we need tons of napkins because things get messy.
“Ugh, they smell so good.”
“Yeah, they do, so hurry your ass on over here so I can dig in.”
I take a seat across from him. “You could have started without me.”
“You know I never do. If anything, I’m a gentleman and will always wait.”
“You didn’t wait two months ago when I brought over cheesecake.”
“Ah, cheesecake.”
“Very true. All sweets are your downfall.” I pick up a taco, and he does too, and like every other time we’ve purchased these tacos, we “clink” them as a toast to the meal and then dip them in the sauce. I take a very large bite and chew.
After a few seconds, he asks, “So how was lunch?”
I swallow and answer, “Oh, you know, same old, same old.”
He pauses his taco halfway to his mouth, sauce dripping from the crispy, grilled tortilla. “Why do I feel like you’re hiding something from me?”
“What? Hiding? Ha! No, I don’t hide things.” I push up my purple-rimmed glasses and chuckle. “Why would I hide something from you? That seems pointless. I tell you everything.”
“You’re babbling.”
“Uh, no, I’m not. I’m defending myself. Because why would I hide something from you?”
He sets his taco down and straightens up. “You’re definitely hiding something.”
“I don’t like your accusatory glare.”
“And I don’t like that you’re prolonging the inevitable of actually telling me what’s going on.” He nods at me. “Go ahead, spill.”
Ugh, he knows me too well. There’s no point, he will go all night like this, so I set my taco down and look him in the eyes.
“Something has developed in my life.”
“Oh-kay,” he drags out.
“Something that will change things a bit.”
His brow creases. “Youaremoving to New York, aren’t you?”
“Noooooo! I’m not moving, I’m just . . . changing my relationship status.”
