Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 95264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“I know we just met like an hour ago, so this might seem crazy fast—”
“Crazy. Yeah.” I grunt as Scarlet’s sharp toe catches the side of my ankle. “But congratulations. It’s amazing.”
Her shoulders sag as her head bobs. “Thanks. I’m so excited. I’ve kissed a lot of frogs in my years. I never thought I’d meet a guy like him.” Her eyes flitter to my brother, shining with adoration.
“Yeah, he’s pretty special.” I’m sure I used to look at Bill like that. But Joe’s nothing like Bill. His biggest fault is his loyalty to his best friend.
“So are you, from everything he’s told me. I mean, you’re larger than life. He talks about you all the time. Everything is Justine this, Justine that. I was so nervous to meet you tonight.” She giggles as she tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “And I know this is rushed, but the wedding is kind of around the corner. My parents are throwing us an engagement party in a couple weeks! And I wanted to ask you in person, I don’t know when I’ll see you again …” She’s rambling. “Joe and I talked, and we would really”—she folds her hands together as if in prayer—“really love it if you would be one of my bridesmaids.”
“Uh …” The surprises keep on coming. I mean, I shouldn’t be surprised that Joe would want me in the party—I’d threaten bodily harm if he didn’t. I just figured I’d know the woman he’s marrying for more than a minute before I was asked.
An insidious thought strikes me, and my body chills. “Who’s his best man?” I already know the answer.
Sara winces. Clearly, Joe has filled her in on the adventures of Justine and Bastard Bill.
Another swift kick against my foot has me jumping and shooting a glare at Scarlet.
Only she’s firing one back at me, and I can practically hear her scolding voice in my head. This is your brother’s wedding, dummy. Of course, you’re not going to let Bastard Bill stop you from being in it.
I force as wide a smile as I can muster, thankful that Sara still can’t read me yet to know I’m faking every second of my joy. “I’d be honored.”
Chapter Eleven
It’s after five p.m. on Sunday when Scarlet and I push through the door and drop our bags on the hardwood floor, the five-and-a-half-hour drive seeming like it took twice that.
“So good to be home,” I moan.
“Uh-huh.”
“Still so hungover.”
“Uh-huh.” Scarlet falls back against the wall with a thud. “I’m too old for this shit.”
Dessert with Molly and Craig turned into celebratory cannoli and shots of Drambuie, which turned into a game of Twister, followed by drunken karaoke. Neither Scarlet nor I remember getting to bed, but we woke up in our clothes, cringing from pounding heads and smacking our parched tongues.
A sharp curse sounds from the kitchen.
We share a frown. “Shane?” Scarlet calls out.
“Yeah.” Frustration bleeds from his voice.
We drag ourselves to the kitchen, to where Shane attempts to install the new dishwasher, his face flushed despite the chilled air. An announcer drones over the radio, calling a football game.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing. It’s just a weird design, and I think it’s missing an attachment.” He tosses a tool into his bag. “Hank’s going to come over and take a look, see if he can figure it out.”
“Is he a legit plumber? ’Cause I need a good plumber for Murphy’s list.” I flop into the chair, though I long for my bed.
“You’re still working on that?” Scarlet molds herself into Shane and he responds instantly, wrapping his arm around her slender body, pulling her tight against him. “Missed you,” she purrs, burying her face in his neck.
He kisses her forehead. “How was your weekend?”
“Good. Joe’s getting married this May, and Justine’s in the wedding party.”
“May? Like this May?” Shane’s eyebrows pop. “Four months away?”
“Three. It’s February tomorrow. Which reminds me.” I flip the page on the ugly feet calendar I got Scarlet for Christmas. “Look at those bad boys.”
She grimaces. “The toes look like thumbs.”
“Didn’t your brother just meet this one?” Shane asks, still hung up on my family news.
“Yeah. In November.”
He lets out a whistle. “Odds that they’ll make it down the aisle?”
“Oh, they’ll make it.” I snort, picking at the bowl of chocolate-covered raisins, though I’d kill for a greasy burger to soak up the last of the alcohol fermenting in my belly. “My mother called it. She’s perfect for him. She’s perfect, period.” Sara kept up shot for shot with us and had no qualms about busting out an atrocious rendition of Stevie Nicks’ “Edge of Seventeen” before offering backup vocals for me singing Heart’s “Alone.” The clincher for me was when she sabotaged Joe by sticking her tongue in his ear during our game of Twister, giving Scarlet and I the win.