June realizes that she’s been talking about her life and promptly seals her mouth up, leveling me with laser eyes because I tricked her again. And that’s that. No more personal talk. We spend the rest of the morning fine-tuning what we want to make for the rehearsal dinner, and then she kicks me out an hour later with barely a second look.
After I’m back at the hotel, I work out in the gym to clear my head of June, and when that doesn’t work, I take an ice-cold shower. When I’m out, I wrap a towel around my waist and check my phone. I have three text messages in a new group chat.
Stacy: Hi guys! Friends dinner tonight at our place for old time’s sake?
Logan: I don’t know why Stacy added the question mark. It’s not an option. This is a mandatory friends dinner. Be here at 7:00 or be removed from the wedding party.
Unknown Number: Is that a promise? I’m kinda getting tired of doing all of Stacy’s bidding anyway:)
And just like that, I have June’s phone number.
I immediately save it in my phone and then get ready to shoot off my reply when another text comes through.
June Bug: But for real, I’ll be there. But I plan on eating all of Ryan’s dessert so he doesn’t get any.
—
I pull up out front of Stacy’s house and notice June’s Jeep already in the driveway. I take a deep breath because I feel something close to butterflies in my stomach, though I refuse to call them that because it’s got to be the most emasculating feeling to claim.
I get out and slam my rental car’s door a little too hard. I can’t help it, though. As hard as I’m trying to play it cool, all my actions are coming out aggressive and choppy. I’m a tightly wound rubber band, and I’m ready to snap.
After pulling a bottle of wine from the back seat, I walk up the nicely manicured sidewalk and ring the doorbell on Stacy’s little cookie-cutter cottage. There’s a welcome mat that says Love lives here. I read it while I wait for the door to open and throw up a little in my mouth. Somehow, I know that if June and I were a couple, she would shoot me dead in my tracks before she ever let me close to a house with a welcome mat like that.
“Ryan!” says Logan with an odd smile when the door opens. His eyes are wide, and his lips are tight like he’s trying to tell me something. Someone teach this man the art of discretion. “Come on in. Everyone is in the kitchen.” He says that about 75 percent too loud as I pass by him.
I glance back at Logan with a look of suspicion—suspicion that he might have lost his mind in all this wedding planning—and then I head for the kitchen.
I hear June’s voice before I see her, and a big wild smile pulls at my mouth. My feet move a little faster, and when I realize I’m showing the same level of excitement as a puppy going somewhere new, I make myself slow the hell down. I round the corner into the kitchen, and my smile falls.
There’s a random dude standing near June. He’s staring at her even though June is giving all her attention to Stacy, who is stirring a pot on the stove. Dude’s got dark-brown hair and a jawline that could be used for measuring perfect right angles, and I immediately decide his brain is the size of a pea. I set the wine bottle down on the counter so firmly I’m surprised it doesn’t break. I’m a grumpy toddler, angry and breaking things because I was promised a cookie and I’ve been given a piece of broccoli instead.
Everyone startles at the sound and whirls their heads toward me.
I smirk and say, “Hi,” but I’m only looking at June.
Her green eyes briefly take me in from head to toe before she seems to remember something and latches onto the guy beside her. She weaves her arm through his and then around his waist to tuck herself in closer to him, turning a coy smile to me. “Glad you could make it, Ryan. This is Carter.”
I don’t look at Carter because he’s irrelevant to me. I’m fixed on June, and her eyes are glittering at me—taunting. And then it hits me. I know what’s happening here. She’s bringing back the oldest play in the book. My play that I ran too many times to count. She’s intentionally breaking the rules and bringing a date to our foursome friends dinner. So now I’m the odd man out. It’s retaliation at its finest.
I smile, letting the original sting I felt roll right off my back. June is striking back. She’s trying to get under my skin.
You know why? Because she likes me.
Chapter 11 June
“Well, isn’t this cozy,” says Stacy once we are all seated around the dining room table. She’s not happy with me. She really wanted tonight to be the friends dinner we never had in high school. Just four grown adult friends, sitting around the table, eating and laughing, and swapping stories of where life has taken us over the years. But I rained on her parade by bringing Carter tonight. I couldn’t resist.
I can’t tell you how many times Ryan did this to me in high school. It should feel good to return the favor now. But no, it doesn’t, because he doesn’t seem like he’s affected by it one tiny bit. Is it too much to ask for a little scowl? One itty-bitty jaw clench?
Ryan is Mr. Sunshine, leaning back in his chair and smiling at me and Carter like we just tied the knot, and he can’t wait to throw the rice.
“So cozy,” I say, scooting a little closer to Carter’s side and bumping my shoulder against his. Am I using him? A little. But in all fairness, I told him ahead of time that I would be using him tonight. Plus, he’s getting a free meal out of it. So that’s sweet, right?
“How long have you two been seeing each other?” asks Ryan with a suspiciously cordial voice from across the table.
“First date, actually,” Carter chimes in, and I want to pinch him under the table to remind him to stick to the script.
“Oh, but we’ve had our eye on each other for a while now.”
Ryan lifts his brows with a delighted smile. “Really? How sweet. Where did you meet?”
“The gym. Stacy, can you pass the rolls?” I ask, adding an extra layer of butter to my smile so it matches Ryan’s.
“Ah, where all true love blossoms,” he says, and I resist letting my face fall into a scowl.
And so dinner proceeds in exactly this way for the rest of the meal. I don’t think anyone is afforded the opportunity to speak because Ryan and I continue to wield our swords across the table, hoping the other will lose steam. I reach for the salt, but he picks it up first so that he can be the one to give it to me. He goes for the wine, but I snatch it up first and fill my glass to the brim, taking the last of it. (P.S. Stacy’s glare is really scary.)
Ryan is relentless, though, continuing to badger Carter and me with questions about our budding relationship and suggesting vacation spots we should try out. WE GET IT, RYAN. YOU KNOW IT’S A SHAM.
But I don’t give in. No way. I’m in charge of this rodeo, so I venture a step further and lean over to lay my head on Carter’s shoulder. Now I’m fluttering my lashes up at him as he tells us about his job at the marketing firm, and I hate myself so much it’s startling. It’s like my spirit slips out of my skin, and for a solid minute, I’m hovering above my own body, watching myself pet Carter and wishing I could pull my own hair to make it stop. My scheme isn’t even working. Ryan is not annoyed. He’s still smiling. He’s still staring at me. And he is still the most attractive man I’ve ever seen.
My soul zooms back down into my body when I see my phone light up on the table with a text.
Mr. Darcy: Why don’t you just shove your tongue down his throat?
I hurry and rip my phone off the table before Carter has a chance to see the text. I look up and find Ryan’s dark pools searing me. He lifts a taunting brow, and for a split second, I think that maybe I do see a little jealousy there. I glance quickly around the table and confirm that Stacy and Logan are engrossed in Carter’s monologue about his boring job.
June: Don’t text me.
