And this is why mom and dad aren’t ever invited to Sinclair Sibling Brunch.
Mom looks around the room, ignoring my heavy sarcasm as she slowly pulls out the chair next to me. “Where is everybody?
“Working or sick or busy apparently.”
“Hello, Mrs. Sinclair,” Reid says in a velvety voice much too plush for greeting my mother. As predicted, mom falls victim to his charms. She pauses momentarily, her hands frozen on her designer purse as she looks at him. Then, ever so slowly, a smile that rivals the Cheshire Cat spreads across her lips.
“Oh, I don’t know if we’ve been properly introduced.” Mom slides an elegant hand toward Reid. He stares at her hand for a beat before taking it in his and shaking it. Mom frowns at the gesture, assumedly hoping that he would’ve kissed her hand instead. I fight back a laugh at her disappointment.
“Mom, this is Reid, Jason’s best man who was very much present at the couple’s shower last weekend.” She ignores me, so I continue on. “Reid, this is my mom.”
“Lynn,” she murmurs. “You can call me Lynn.”
“And my dad’s name is Frank,” I supply, reminding her that she is, in fact, happily married. Or so I think.
She tosses a glance my way. “Why areyouhere planning the shower with the best man? Shouldn’t the maid of honor be doing that?”
“You would think. Lydia apparently had better things to do.”
“Oh yes, I think she had a date with Brad planned.”
“Why am I the one who’s planning all the stuff and I’m not even the maid of honor?”
“You did promise her the best wedding she’d ever seen,” Reid reminds me. I narrow my eyes at him. Mom doesn’t notice as she goes back to digging in her purse for her own pen and tiny notebook.
“Oh Jane,” she mutters, “don’t get so upset over such petty things as titles.”
“Or who is the best at what,” Reid adds. I kick him under the table. He doesn’t even flinch, much to my dismay. He only grins wider. I grit my teeth together.
“Yes,” mom agrees. “This wedding is about Kate.”
“And Jason,” I say.
“So let’s make it the best celebration it can possibly be.”
“Agreed,” Reid says with extra gusto. My nostrils flareas I draw in a slow breath through my nose and stare him down. How dare he make me look bad in front of my mom?
As my mom opens her own notebook, Reid pins me with a self-satisfied stare, lips pursed in a smug grin. It’s going to be a long few months.
Chapter 8
Ipull a bottle of wine from the fridge and set it on the counter. Lola scoops it up and eyes it as I dig through the drawer for my corkscrew.
“I thought you were doing a dry May.”
I pull the corkscrew from the drawer with a triumphant “aha!” Lola arches a dark brow at me. “I am,” I say. “It’s a dry Sauvignon blanc. Duh.”
The corner of her lips pull into a smile and she passes me the bottle.
“So,” she begins, perching herself on the only open counter space in my itty bitty kitchenette. “The shower planning must have gone well if you’re recounting it to me with wine several days later.”
It’s been almost a week and I’m still not over the way everything I say to him becomes bickering and competitive. There’s just something about him that makes me want to be right, even if I know I’m wrong, solely so thathecan’t be right.
I pour Lola a glass of wine and pass it over to her before pouring one for myself. “I needed time to decompress.”
Lola arches a brow at me. “So it wentreallywell then.”
I wave a hand flippantly. “Oh you know, Reid thinks he knows everything about food?—”
