“Look,” Declan starts, “this is definitely not what we had planned for our trip.”
“I know.”
“We’ll get it annulled. It should be fairly easy, right?”
“I think so? I’ve never actually had to get one.”
“Hey, c’mere.” Declan pulls me in for a hug, but I don’t hug him back. He’s still mostly naked. All these abs ondisplay? I don’t need to feel them. I don’t need to feel his warmth seeping inside of me and making me feel better.
“Look. This will be a funny story we can laugh about in a few months, okay? I’ll look and see what we need to do and get it taken care of.”
“You will?”
“Yes.”
That one word has me wrapping my arms around his waist. At least I’m in this mess with my best friend.
Okay, things really could be worse.
Chapter Six
ALICE
The calendar alert dings on my phone from the passenger seat. I growl in annoyance as I turn on my blinker and press a code to get into the gated community.
It’s been a long week. After coming home from Vegas, married to my best friend no less, I now have a family dinner to attend.
My presence was not requested. More like demanded.
It’s one of the only ways to get me to come. To say I don’t get along with my family is an understatement. It’s always been this way.
My great-great-grandfather made his money during the gold rush in Colorado. We’ve had money ever since. I grew up with it, but hated the expectations placed on me. I never conformed to what my parents wanted.
Fancy parties with pretty dresses? I’d rather be playing outside in the dirt.
Pulling up to the ostentatious house, I, once again, press a code into the gate keypad to be let in.
The lawn around the half-circle drive is manicured to perfection. Not an inch of grass is out of place. Planters filled with pink Cosmos line the drive. Not the flowers I told them toplant. My mother said the gardener has a better grasp of what grows well in this climate.
Every time I see the pink blooms, I’m annoyed.
Parking my old car in front of the house, I grab the bouquet of flowers off the passenger seat and head inside.
Yellow chrysanthemums. It’s the most passive-aggressive bouquet to bring to my family. Not only does my mother not like them because “they’re cheap,” but they signify sorrow and neglectfulness. Things I’ve always felt in this house.
Ringing the doorbell, I wait for them to answer.
“Alice. So happy that you could join us.” Mom waves me inside, giving me an air kiss on each cheek. “How have you been?”
“Good. And you?”
Within seconds, the conversation is stilted. It’s always been like this. I pass over the wrapped bouquet and receive a half smile.
“How kind of you. We’re both doing just fine. Your father and I are having drinks in the lounge.”
My heeled sandals slap against the herringbone-patterned wood floors. The two-story entryway is plated in gold with velvet wallpaper stuck to every surface.
It’s gaudy and horrible. The lounge is even worse. Stiff sofas sit next to the empty fireplace. Built-in shelves, complete with an entire bar’s worth of liquor, stand on both sides.
