Because she’d co-opted our hotel suite for the day for hair, makeup, and who knows what other feminine things, I only had a few minutes to change into my tux and get a good glimpse of her fully made-up and dressed before we had to leave. I study her now, her beautiful face, her unique-colored eyes accentuated with liner and thick lashes, glowing skin, and pink, shiny lips. And her gorgeous dark hair flowing over her shoulders in waves.
“I love everything about you,” I say, the words escaping before I can censor them. Taken in context, they can mean anything, but in my heart, they hold deeper meaning. I am falling fast for my best friend’s sister.
Her eyes open wide, and her mouth parts in surprise. “I—”
“Son! It’s good to see you.” My father’s voice interrupts us. So typical, as if last night’s scene never happened. At least that bodes well for my money pitch. But my father has shitty timing.
Bri and I turn to face my parents.
“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Northfield,” Bri says with a smile.
They murmur polite hellos back but don’t ask her to be less formal. Also typical.
“Mom, Dad, we are just going to dance.” I slide my hand into Bri’s. She’s removed her bandages, and the wounds are already beginning to heal.
“You’ll come by early tomorrow to talk as planned?” my father asks, an anticipatory and excited gleam in his eyes.
I know better than to give my father warning about the topic of conversation. Surprise will be on my side. “Yes, I’ll be there.” And this time, I’ll be leaving Bri at the hotel. No need to subject her to my parents’ version of politeness, which actually borders on rude behavior.
“Looking forward to seeing you, son.”
My mother pats my shoulder, and they walk away.
“Are they always so pleasant?”
“Unfortunately, yes. There’s a reason I’m living in Florida. Can we not focus on them?” I ask, wrapping an arm around her and leading her toward the dance floor.
The rest of the evening passes in a blur of wedding routines, from toasts to someone clinking or tapping glasses together and demanding the bride and groom kiss to the throwing of the garter and the bouquet.
Apparently Bri and I have the same feelings about the rituals, because I try to avoid the cluster of single men grouped to see who caught the item and will be next to marry. As the superstition says. But Serena catches my gaze, walks over, and pulls me into the crowd, positioning me at the right side of the men.
I stand there, feeling like an ass, hating the spectacle, and I’m not surprised when the groom throws the garter directly to the side Serena placed me on.
I walk off the dance floor, cheeks burning, garter in my hand, and everyone cheers. Especially Bri, who’s found the entireincident amusing… until Serena pulls the same routine before she tosses the bouquet.
We climb into the back of the town car I’d hired to drive us to and from the hotel, Bri still laughing over our predicaments. “I suppose we’re getting married sometime next year,” she says, still giggling, slightly tipsy from too much champagne.
I lean my head back and laugh. “If Serena has her way, we are.” I ought to be shaken up by the idea.
I’ve never thought about marriage, mostly because any time the subject comes up, it has been with my parents after they’d chosen the perfect potential bride. The thought made me want to puke. But the notion of marriage with the right woman, with the woman by my side? That doesn’t disturb me at all.
But until I have my life settled and know I have my goals and plans in the works, I can’t think about the future. In the meantime, I have Bri in my life, and she isn’t going anywhere.
Chapter Six
Brianne
Iawake alone in the large hotel bed Sunday morning. Hudson has gone to meet with his father, and he obviously hasn’t disturbed me. Given how late we’d stayed up last night indulging in unrivaled passion, I appreciate him letting me sleep in. My body is sore from the number of times we’d had sex, using up all the condoms he’d brought with him to New York. I will always remember this weekend as ours, and I’ve had the best time.
After a quick shower, I pull my hair into a bun and, wearing a hotel robe, step into the main area of the suite to find coffee waiting for me along with a basket of muffins.
My cell rings just as I sit down with my caffeine and blueberry muffin. Macy’s name flashes on the screen, and I take the call. “Hey!”
“Hey yourself! So how’s your weekend going?” Macy asks.
I feel my smile grow wide. “Amazing. I mean, Hudson is everything I could want in a man.”
“Oh, Bri, I’m so happy for you!” Macy exclaims loudly.
