Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“He’s right,” Katherine said, surprising me by actually agreeing with me. “New York is home.”
“You’ve never lived anywhere else,” Whitley said.
“So? I don’t have to live anywhere else to know.”
I laughed. “Who knew Katherine and I could agree on anything?”
“You and me, Gavin,” Katherine said with a drunk grin. “We agree on two things.”
“Oh yeah?”
“New York and Whitley.”
Whitley glared. “Don’t gang up on me.”
“But we love you, dear Whit,” Katherine said with a look that said she was joking even though I was sure she wasn’t.
That was the moment that English appeared with her work in tow. Her work being the biggest rock band in the country—Cosmere. I’d been listening to their music for years, but their new single was next level. Campbell Abbey was a fucking incredible musician and lyricist.
I went to introduce myself. Lark and Sam were at the back of the group. Lark broke off to rush into Whitley’s arms. Sam gave me a fist bump. English was in deep conversation with one of the bandmate’s girlfriends when I overheard her discussing, of all the things to be discussing, my cousin’s wedding.
I looked the small woman, Nora, up and down. “You’re planning my cousin Margaret’s wedding?”
“I am. It should be beautiful.”
“Oh, I know Merritt Locke. I bet the wedding will be glamorous,” English said. She gave the girl a shrewd look. “Have you ever done anything in LA or New York?”
Nora gulped. “I haven’t.”
“English,” Court warned.
“I hate my wedding planner.” English gave Court a shut the fuck up look. “My future mother-in-law picked her out, and she doesn’t listen to anything I want. It’s only a few months away, and I’m pulling my hair out.”
“That’s a tough place to be in. She should always listen to you first. It’s your wedding, not your mother-in-law’s.”
English arched an eyebrow at Court. “See!” Then, she turned back to Nora. “Do you have a card?”
I tuned out the rest of the conversation. English wanted out of the big wedding, but maybe a change in wedding planner would make the whole thing better. Since she couldn’t change her mother-in-law. I chatted with another woman for a while about the wedding, ignoring Sam’s jabs at taking Whitley to my cousin’s wedding. Yeah, because that would be a good idea.
I shook my head.
That would be a disaster.
My family was … a lot. Under good circumstances, they were a lot. At a wedding, they would be oppressive. The easiest way to get a girl to run for the hills was to meet my family. I was an only child, but I had six cousins on my dad’s side and another fifteen on my mom’s side. When we were all together, it was fucking crazy. Someone either ended up drunk, injured, or drunk and injured. Everything was bigger in Texas, including my family and the hurt feelings.
But that didn’t stop me from considering it for one moment as I watched Whitley stumble onto the dance floor with her friends. She was shaking her ass and laughing and being as effervescent as ever. She’d be the life of the party, and all the stupid fucking questions that people asked every time I was home about why I hadn’t settled down would finally cease.
I’d put down a plus-one for the wedding.
I was sure that I’d have someone that I wanted to take between when I’d told Margaret that I was coming and when I actually showed up. So far, the only person I wanted was entirely off-limits. Even if I wanted to bring her, I wasn’t risking our relationship on the chance she said no.
Fuck it. I was tired of thinking about this shit. I was just going to have a good time. Whitley was back in town. Which meant that I wasn’t going to sit here with strangers and sulk.
Sam must have seen the glint in my eyes because he started laughing. “Good luck.”
“You don’t know shit.”
“I know you’re about to make a fool of yourself. I commend you on doing it so thoroughly time and time again.”
I gestured to the redhead on the dance floor with Whitley. “Why don’t you get out there with your wife?”
“Because my wife knows that to get me on the dance floor would be a feat in and of itself and a short-lived victory. She takes her wins where she can get them.”
I snorted. “Basically, you don’t like to dance?”
“Nope. But go get ’em.” He pushed me toward the dance floor, and I didn’t look back.
I barged right in on the group of girls, dancing like a maniac on the floor until even Katherine Van Pelt had a smile on her face. Court appeared a minute later with a literal tray of shots. English giggled as she snagged one. I grabbed two shots and met Whitley’s eyes with a raised eyebrow. She took two as well and winked.