Page 26

“If you fart on me, you’re sleeping on the floor!” This is not a good idea.

“Would I—” He stops himself. “I’ll try to hold them in, but no promises.”

“Collin! Why are you so gross?” I grab my overnight bag and stomp to the bathroom. I don’t know if I’ll stay awake for a single movie, I’m so tired.

“You brought it up!” Collin hollers through the closed door.

When I return wearing my T-shirt and shorts, the mattress is fully blown up with two pillows and a blanket on it.

“I get the left side,” Collin declares before he enters the bathroom.

I don’t argue and crawl onto the right, rolling onto my side. I tucked my purse next to the mattress, and I have to check it again to make sure my ring is still where I left it. I haven’t taken it off since Jonathan proposed last week, but I couldn’t let Collin see it. I’ve been waiting all day for Jonathan to arrive so we can finally share the news.

The deal was, Collin first, well… after my parents, then the girls. My parents already knew since Jonathan asked for their blessing. Not permission, he assured me. No matter what they said, he was planning to marry me.

Same.

"Why do you keep looking in your purse? Are you hiding a kitten in there for my housewarming?"

“No,” I say, zipping it up again. “Just checking that everything’s still there.”

“You’re so weird,” he tells me, jumping onto the mattress and sending me into the air.

“Omigod! You’re going to pop it!”

Collin laughs. “Just testing it out.”

“For what? A wrestling match?”

“Something like that.” He smirks.

“Ew.” I shove him away from me when he proceeds to sprawl out like a starfish, tucking his hands behind his head. “Stay on your side.”

“We’re cuddling, and you know it. So stop complaining and get over here. Put your head on my shoulder.”

I grumble but comply. He smells of toothpaste and his spicy deodorant, masking the scent of sweat from the long, hot day before he finally installed the air conditioner.

“Talk to me,” Collin demands.

“About what?”

“Whatever it is you’re hiding.”

“I’m not… I can’t.” No sense in lying. He’ll know. “Not until tomorrow.”

Thanks for driving,” Rachel says after she finally takes me to pick up my truck. We dropped her car at her place so we could grab something to eat close by. Rachel swears this local Mexican restaurant makes the best fish tacos. I’m starving, so I didn’t need convincing.

Rachel replies to a text, then stuffs her phone into her bag. “Do you mind stopping along the way? I need to pick up something from a friend.”

“Sure.”

Rachel’s a little more fidgety than usual, like she doesn’t know what to do with her hands—folding them, picking at them, strangling them. And she looks tired, which is odd since I’m the one who hasn’t slept the past two nights.

Maybe she hasn’t either? Or at least not restfully since she’s been buzzed both nights, and that’s not usually the best sleep.

When she points at a bar, or at least that’s what I assume it is with the neon beer signs glowing in the handful of windows, I have to ask, “This place? Are you sure? Who are you meeting?”

“Just an old friend,” she says. “He has something I need.”