He cleared his throat. “No, I like the last one.”
“Mi dawlin?” she asked in surprise.
“Yep. Let’s go with that.”
“Okay.” She shrugged. “Dealer’s choice. Now, for the big question. How are we going to tell our parents?”
“I was thinking I’d mail mine a letter.”
“Very funny. I’m serious, Jayce. You’re asking everyone for a pretty big favor. You need to do it in person.”
“You’re right,” he admitted, wishing she wasn’t.
He raked his fingers through his hair, his muscles instantly tense. He loved his parents, but he loathed visiting them, a big reason why he rarely came home. No matter which parent he went to see first, the other one got offended. And no matter how hard he tried to keep the conversations neutral, his parents constantly complained about each other, pitting Jayce in the middle of their feud. It had been that way since sixth grade and only got worse when his dad bought the house next door after their divorce. He claimed he wanted to be close to his son, while Jayce’s mother swore he’d done it to spite her. To this day, for reasons that could only be attributed to full-blown insanity, they remained neighbors—bitter, bickering, backbiting neighbors who fought over where to place their trash bins.
“What if you tell your parents at the same time? Two birds, one stone.”
“I’d rather chew off my own hand than put them in the same room together.”
“I realize it’s like asking the Romulans and Klingons to get along,” she conceded with another one of her adorableStar Trekreferences. “But what if I go with you and hold your hand so you aren’t tempted to chew it off?”
“And ask you to fall on a grenade for me?”
“What are fiancées for?”
“Are you sure?”
“For better or worse, mi dawlin,” she said with a playful grin, making his stomach spin.
Shake it off, man. “Where should we hold this doomed rendezvous? The emergency room? You know things are going to get ugly.”
“I was thinking somewhere a little cozier.”
“How about here at the café?” he suggested.
“Ha! Definitely not. My staff has already endured a paparazzi infiltration. I don’t need them to clean up a bloodbath, too.” She crinkled her nose in concentration, just like she did when studying for a test in school. The endearing quirk still drove him crazy. “I know!” she cried in delight at her epiphany. “Sage and Flynn recently opened a bookstore on a vintage sailboat. We could schedule one of their bookish sailing tours around the bay. It’s a neutral location. And a novelty, so good for conversation. Plus, they can’t escape unless they jump overboard.”
“And what ifIjump overboard?”
“A hollow threat considering you’re deathly afraid of sharks.”
“I’m afraid of beingeatenby sharks. There’s a difference.”
“If you say so.” She smirked.
“That’s the last time I spill my secrets during a game of Truth or Dare with you,” he grumbled.
“It’s cute you think you have any secrets left.”
Oh, if only you knew, he thought with another pang of guilt. Suppressing the swell of complicated emotions, he jokingly asked, “How about we book the tour a year from next Tuesday?”
“How about tomorrow morning?” she countered. “I’ll call Sage and make sure she has an opening. In case the paparazzi come poking around again, you need to get this over with quickly.”
“You have a point.” Plus, knowing Gretchen, she’d conjure some weak excuse to show up unannounced and uninvited. He wouldn’t put anything past her, especially after she leaked the engagement bombshell earlier than she’d promised.
“Where are you staying while you’re in town?”
“I’m crashing at Evan’s place. Mia’s back, too, so we’re having a Tinseltown Trio reunion tonight. You should come.”
