“Amy’s a small-town girl. She knows what I like. She’ll be perfect.” Meg waved her arm over my shoulder. “I now pronounce you co-maid of honor.”
Sebastian stood up and collected his things. “This wedding is going to be a disaster.”
8
Sebastian
Icouldn’t believe I was going to have to work with that horse girl.
I fumed as I paced around my office. The building was a short walk from the Harrogate train station, on a slight hill, with a view over the quaint town. State of the art with polished concrete floors and floor-to-ceiling windows, the clean and sterile interior normally calmed me. But not today. Every time I took a step, I couldfeelthe ever so slight catch of something sticky on my shoe against the floor.
I pulled my shoe off for the fifth time that afternoon and ran a wet wipe over the sole. It should have removed any lingering traces of the candy-topped coffee horror that Amy had spilled everywhere. But for some reason, it felt like a spot of the syrupy drink was still on my shoe.
It’s probably just your imagination.
Maybe it’s stress.
I had to admit I was stressed about the wedding.
I liked schedules. I liked plans. I liked to know what was happening months in advance.
At my company, everything from the types of products we developed to the ad campaigns we ran was planned out months if not years in advance. And now we were just supposed to what? Throw a wedding together in a few weeks? Impossible.
I hated uncertainty. It was messy. Just like Amy.
“Honestly, she had an entire plant in her bag,” I said to the wall.
“Who has a plant? Are you putting some plants in here?”
“Hey, Alfie.” I stood up and gave him a hug. “How was school?”
“Great! We’re starting a biology unit, and we have to make a self-sustaining biodome. Plants, dirt, and an animal go into a bottle, and they sustain one another,” he explained, showing me all his worksheets excitedly.
I winced at the thought of all that mud and moss in a bottle that was going to live in the house.
“If it does really well,” Alfie said brightly, “you can keep it in your office!”
Absolutely not.
“Sure,” I lied, hoping I sounded enthusiastic enough that I wouldn’t ruin his self-esteem.
My brother laughed and patted my arm. “You need some green in your life.”
“I can see a tree from my window.” I pointed.
“Inyour life. And you need a girlfriend.”
“I’m busy.”
“No, you aren’t.” Alfie hopped into my chair. “I talked to your secretary.”
I bit down the urge to tell him to be careful. He was fine—had been fine for years—though when he had been in the middle of his treatment, he had bruised so easily.
My little brother chattered on as he spun around, kicking his feet.
“I found a nice lady for you on Tinder,” he said, showing me his phone.
“You’re not supposed to be on that app.”
