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Amber forked some food onto the plate. When Lori dipped the asparagus in the béarnaise sauce, she scooted to the edge of her chair, and her skirt rode up her legs high enough to reveal toned thighs. They were mouth-watering. I clasped the fork tighter to keep myself from touching her. Lori caught the hem of her skirt, tugging it down.
"Well, if there's one thing our guests won't be able to complain about, it's the food," Amber said, rubbing a palm over her belly after the main course.
"We won't give the guests the chance to complain about anything," Lori assured her, iPad in hand once again, even though she hadn't finished eating. "So, we've got down the menu, the flowers, and the tablecloths. Cake's coming up in a few minutes."
"Okay. But I want to go outside first. I need fresh air. It's getting stuffy in here. I don't want to risk getting sick."
"I'll come with you," Matt said.
As the two of them left, Lori started typing on her iPad. "Sorry to be antisocial, but I want to write down everything we discussed during the meal while it's fresh in my mind."
"I get it."
After she finished writing her notes, she pulled up the website of an upcoming concert, pressing her lips together.
"You a fan?" I asked.
"My son is. I wanted to get him tickets, but they were sold out in three minutes after sales opened. I kept hoping they'd put some additional ones on sale, but no luck. I have my entire family pulling strings."
"It's your lucky day."
"What do you mean?"
"I have two tickets, and I don't plan on going. I'll have them sent to you."
"That would make Milo's month. Year, probably. Are you sure? Why don't you plan on going?"
"Not a fan."
"I’ll take them. Let me know how much they were and I'll transfer the money to you."
"No need. I got them as a gift. I'll have someone at the club deliver them to you."
"Thanks. I appreciate it."
She pulled up her calendar app. Hell, that looked like a nightmare. She was close enough that I could see the entries in detail. Those marked with red seemed work-related. Those in green seemed to mark activities she'd planned with her son (soccer practice, soccer game, watching Scooby Doo, sleepover—Jeremy comes over; make lasagna, quality time—activity TBD).
"You're thorough," I said, more to myself. "I've never seen anyone schedule their free time in so much detail."
"I forget things if I don't do this. Easiest way to keep track of Milo's schedule too."
"You spend a lot of time with him.”
“I try.” She shrugged, as if it was normal. But I'd witnessed firsthand what not trying felt like, so I knew exactly how special it was, how special she was. She brought up the wedding week on her calendar.
"This is what the schedule looks like in the three days prior to the wedding. The company we're renting the tent from will need one day to set it up. The next day, I'm taking care of all the decorations. Only the flowers and the chairs for the ceremony will be delivered on the wedding day, but I want the rest to be ready the day before. Is that okay for you? It means you'll have people milling around for two days before the wedding. I can squeeze everything in one day if it's too much trouble."
"I don't mind. I'm at the house only in the evening, anyway."
She nodded, absently rubbing the side of her neck with one hand. Was the neck a sweet spot for her? If I placed open-mouthed kisses there, would she moan? If I bit lightly, would she arch for me, beg for more? The wild desire to discover all her sweet spots slammed into me. I looked away from her neck and met her eyes. Her pupils had dilated a notch. Her breath was coming out faster. She clasped her iPad with both hands.
"Right, so the tent will be dismantled and shipped off the day after the wedding. I'll be there to supervise everything."
She pointed on the screen at the schedule for the wedding and the day after. The night of the wedding was marked red until four o'clock in the morning, and then red again from seven to eleven on Sunday.
"You don't have to come back so early on Sunday," I said. "You can have everything shipped back on Monday; I don't care."
"Oh, but the tent company does. They want that tent back before lunch."
