Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
As soon as I cover my chicken with foil and tuck it in the fridge, I leave as Cammie puts her chicken in the oven first. “I’ll be back in a moment. Make yourselves at home.”
Tiptoeing down the hall, I lean in before I knock lightly on the door to the home office.
“Come in,” Jackson says from the other side of the wood.
I open the door slowly and peek my head inside before sliding all the way through and shutting it behind me. “You need to tell me the secret. Guilt is written all over my face, and I don’t even know the secret yet.”
“You can’t wait, even knowing it’s a good secret?”
“Especially because it’s a good secret. Just tell me please, Jackson.”
Papers are scattered all over the top of the desk, a yellow legal pad with scribbles on it is near the computer monitor, which is lit up with what appears to be more numbers than words. He looks busy with something important this Sunday afternoon, but he still drops everything when I walk into the room and gives me his complete attention. I never knew what others meant by true love, but now I do.
Checking his phone as if he heard it ringing, he says, “Rad wants to surprise Tealey with a ceremony.”
My head jerks back. “What do you mean surprise her with a ceremony?”
Now staring at his monitor, he mumbles, “Exactly.”
Completely confused, I finally riddle through this. “What exactly? I don’t understand what you mean, Jackson.”
“He’s going to surprise her with the actual ceremony. He just wants to be married, but he wants her to have the wedding of her dreams.”
“Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?” Men. I shake my head. “Now we’re on the same page.”
“Same page. Great.” He flips through a pile of papers and pulls a sheet out. Looking back at me, he says, “Their schedules are so out of sync that he’s worried, or should I say, he’d rather be married to her now than try to coordinate complicated schedules for the next year. And he’s recruited us to help him make this happen. Well, specifically you.”
“Me?” I sit on the chair on the other side of the desk. “How can I help?”
“He wants you to help plan their wedding from beginning to end.”
“Tealey won’t want a surprise wedding. You know she’s a diehard romantic.”
Rocking back in his chair, a crease forms between his brows. The tension seems a bit much for talk about his friends getting married. Then he steeples his fingers. I ask, “Am I intruding? You seem preoccupied. The marriage wedding mix-up. You keep looking at your phone like you’re expecting a call.”
“I’m always expecting a call.”
“Okay, you’re busy. I get it, but…”
Pushing back from the desk, he says, “Sorry. I’m present. Mind in this. Rad thinks Tealey will like the idea because she is a romantic. She’s also busy with the foundation, so he was hoping you could take charge not only because of your party-planning knowledge, but also know what she’ll love.”
“I appreciate the flattery, but I’ll need to think on this. I’m not sure how I’d feel about a surprise wedding.” My friend has never been about all the little details of the party. She’s told me many times that she’d prefer just being married to Rad than dealing with the rest. “You know, I’m starting to think this might not be such a bad idea.” I get up and start pacing the room. “If I can get her to plan the details without planning the details, this could be Rad’s greatest idea ever.” Giddy, a giggle escapes and I clap my hands. “It’s brilliant. Tell Rad, I’m in.” I nod toward the door. “Now I need to get back.”
“You can’t spoil the surprise, Marlow.”
“I won’t. My lips are sealed.” I pretend to zipper my lips and then toss the key to Jackson. He catches it and then shoves it in his pocket because he’s adorable.
Returning to the kitchen, Natalie is demonstrating smashed potatoes. “This is one of Jackson’s personal favorites that my mom made for us when we were growing up.”
“I missed how long they bake before we get to smash them,” I say, sitting on a barstool. I take a sip of wine and just happen to get a glimpse of Tealey, who’s busy smashing her own potatoes to take home.
“Rad loves potatoes,” she says.
I ask, “What about you?”
A quick bump of her shoulders appears to indicate that it might not be right for wedding food if she were choosing it. “I like potatoes.”
“You don’t sound excited.”
She and Cammie look at me, and she laughs. “They’re potatoes.”
“Noted.”
“Why are you noting this?”
I pop to my feet and grab the bottle because how am I going to keep this secret from them? It’s impossible. “More wine?”