Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“I got rid of the nose ring,” I say, picking at a loose thread on the comforter.
“Exactly, because you grew up and realized it looked ridiculous on you. Just like I grew up and realized that my little prenup surprise was a little ridiculous too.”
“Can’t you undo it?”
“Not really,” he admits. “I may have been dumb at twenty-four, but I was good. The prenup’s already on file. Any court worth their salt will see the stipulation, as well as the fact that you and Colin clearly signed it. Without reading it, by the way.”
“Oh, well excuse us for not suspecting our brother and best friend would set out to ruin our lives.”
“Ruin? Really?” he says sarcastically. “It’s three months out of your life, and I’ve seen Colin’s place. It’s hardly a rat-infested shack.”
“Did you know that he goes to Mom and Dad’s every Sunday? I think he does it to make us look bad,” I grumble, flopping back against the pillows.
“He does it because you live in California, and I married a woman who works for the World Bank in Germany. As far as daily routines go, our parents don’t have kids, and he doesn’t have parents. I think it’s good they’ve filled a gap for each other.”
“I’m just saying, how would he like it?” I’m still irritated with the entire situation. “How’d he like it if we flew to Dublin and got all buddy-buddy with his parents, if we weaseled our way into favorite child status with his mom and dad?”
My brother is silent for a long moment. “Col’s parents are dead, Charlie.”
I sit up once more, this time nausea mixing in with the shock. “What?”
“They were in a car accident a couple of years ago. Why do you think he didn’t come to my wedding?”
“I don’t know,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “I thought you were just like, trying to save me the awkwardness …”
“Yes, because everything’s about you. He was at their funeral. He asked me not to say anything because he didn’t want to intrude upon anyone’s happiness.”
“Oh God,” I groan.
“I’m sure he didn’t expect that you’d know,” my brother says kindly.
“No, you don’t get it. It’s bad.” I’m out of bed now, rummaging through drawers. “When I first got here and found out he was having dinner with Mom and Dad every week, I said some things …”
He groans. “What sort of things?”
“Just … you know, snide little comments about how if he didn’t spend so much time kissing up to our parents, maybe he’d have more time to visit his own …”
“Oh God. Charlotte!”
“I know,” I shriek. “You have to help me. What is the national flower of Ireland?”
“The Dudladilly,” he replies.
I pull out a black sports bra and begin wiggling into it. “Really?”
“No. I have no idea. Why?”
Isn’t it obvious? I have to fix this.
“I have to go,” I tell my brother, sitting on the bed, and shoving my feet into sneakers.
“Why? Where are you going? What are you doing?”
He knows me well enough to sound panicked, but for once, my plan is pretty safe.
“Don’t worry, nothing weird. I just have to go buy Colin flowers. Sympathy flowers. And apology flowers. It’s going to be a really big bouquet.”
I hang up on my brother’s weary sigh.
Chapter 16
Saturday, September 5
Colin’s a perpetually early riser, but not, apparently, when he has a pasta dinner and a half bottle of wine at eleven the night before, because when I get back from my frantic flower mission, his bedroom door’s still closed, and the coffee’s not on.
Breathing a sigh of relief that I have a moment to gather my thoughts, I set the flowers on the counter and put on a pot of coffee. At this point, anything I can do to endear him to me after a seriously awful gaffe seems like a good plan, and coffee is always a good start.
It also gives me a chance to arrange the flowers. None of the local florists in the neighborhood were open this early, but Whole Foods was.
Unfortunately, Whole Foods’ flower selection, while pretty and varied, had only modest-sized arrangements. After my blunder, the man deserves a bouquet the size of a small pony.
I settled for buying lots of little arrangements—six, to be exact—and now I set about unwrapping them, snipping the rubber bands, and combining them into one giant mess of flowers.
“Hmm,” I puzzle aloud, as I realize that I have no idea where Colin keeps his vases—or if he even owns any. And even if he does have a vase, I’m reasonably sure it won’t be one large enough to fit my self-assembled arrangement.
I purse my lips and study my handiwork. My flower “bouquet” is a lot more akin to a bush. One that takes both my arms to pick up, and even then, I drop a handful of blooms on the way to Colin’s door.