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“I’m planning it,” Milly jumps in. “Just when I thought I couldn’t love Annabel more. I can’t wait!”
I let my head fall back, silently begging the good Lord for patience. “There will be no wedding, all right? Jesus Christ, this is exactly why I don’t tell y’all shit. Bel and I aren’t even together. We’re—”
“What?” Milly asks.
I run through the options in my head.
Good friends?
Friends don’t fuck.
Fuck buddies?
Fuck buddies don’t talk for hours about their feelings.
Dating?
Maybe. But we haven’t said that word yet. Nor have we gone on any official dates. Or have we? Do the fly fishing and cooking lessons count? What about the bonfire? They were all romantic. Fun. Flirty.
All qualifications for solid dates.
“We just are, okay? We’re both going through hell right now, and neither of us sees any need to put a label on what’s happening. We’re enjoying our time together, and we’ll see where that takes us.” I hold up my hand when Samuel opens his mouth to speak. “End of discussion. Now if y’all will excuse me, I have some lube to purchase.”
Milly stands, too. “Before you go, just a reminder we’ve got a meeting with John and Celeste tomorrow at six PM. They’re flying in private from Australia. I want y’all there for every minute of this thing. It’s our highest-profile wedding yet, and if we kill it—which we will, because I’m in charge—it will open the floodgates to all kinds of cool clientele.”
I open my phone and enter the time into my calendar. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ll be there, six PM sharp,” Samuel says.
Milly’s phone dings. She digs it out of her pocket and glances at the screen. She smiles.
This funny, almost shy smile.
“Your sexting friend again?”
Samuel’s brows jump. “Milly’s sexting with someone?”
“I told you, Beau, I prefer phone sex. And I have that with a lot of people.” Thumbs hovering over her screen, she turns and exits the room. “See you perverts later.”
To: Annabel Rhodes ([email protected])
From: John Beauregard ([email protected])
May 21, 2013 11:17 AM EST
Subject: Re: Ugh dating
BEL! So, I’m really sorry that guy ghosted you. I know you had high hopes, but considering what he did, I’d say he’s a total dud. A couple great dates, only to stop returning your calls? WTF is wrong with people? I’m mad as hell for you. But hey, keep your head up. Stop wasting all that good perfume on losers. Yes, you told me about your perfume plots that one night at Nobu when we gave ourselves sake poisoning. To this day, just hearing the word sake makes me want to barf.
Anyway. Don’t give up. You’re smart, you’re gorgeous, you’re funny, and one day, the right guy is going to see that and make you his. In the meantime, save the good perfume for guys who deserve it, okay?
Thanks for asking about my sister. I’m excited for Milly and pretty damn proud of her for starting her own business. I know I’m biased, but I happen to think she’s the best damn wedding planner in the country already. Even her old boss, who’s, like, this big deal in that world, said she’s never met anyone with as much talent or drive. It’s going to be cool watching Milly’s star rise. Even better? She’s agreed to join forces with me once the resort is up and running.
The farm’s been keeping me pretty busy. We finalized plans with the architects last week, and now we’re sourcing supplies for what’s turning out to be a gigantic project. But we have the best people on staff who are ensuring we stick to authentic and local materials. It’s important to me that we preserve the “feel” of Blue Mountain, you know? Its history. Ain’t gonna be cheap. But it’s how I hooked Milly, promising her the resort would become the South’s preeminent luxury wedding venue. I’m working on Hank, too, with shameless appeals to his social side. He’s thinking about retirement, so I want to strike while the iron is hot.
Wow, sorry for the novel. But we haven’t talked in two days, and I miss you. I know you’re heartbroken, but call me sometime, would you?
Beau
The sun is just starting to set when I pull up to Sugarhill Cottage.
The air is warm, and so is my body.
Bel opens the door wearing the baby in this wrap sling thing. Maisie is curled into Bel’s chest, the top of her tiny head peeking out over the wrap.
And Bel—
The breath leaves my lungs as I shamelessly check her out. She looks so at home, relaxed and happy, standing in the giant doorway of this giant house. Her hair falls over her shoulders in loose waves. Her green eyes are brighter than usual, same with her smile.
She’s wearing jeans and a simple black top, just a little makeup.
She looks fucking gorgeous. Smells good, too. I’ve been friends with Bel long enough to know she keeps a handful of perfumes in her arsenal. She explained them all to me a while back: one’s for everyday wear, one is for dates, the floral one’s for spring, the other floral for summer, and the musky, sexy, come-fuck-me-now scent is, well, for fucking.
