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“Dildos and ingrown hairs on the bikini line.”
Sam nodded solemnly. “That’s what we were talking about too.”
“I can’t believe Grace isn’t going to do a traditional wedding,” Riley muttered. She’d been kidding about the flower-girl bit, of course, but she’d always imagined that of the group, Grace would be the one to get hitched in a big old church with the big old white dress.
Now Grace seemed perfectly content to wear a cute little white cocktail dress on a beach somewhere. Hell, she would probably have been content to wear a black trash bag in the Bronx, because the only thing that really mattered to Grace was Jake.
Riley was jealous.
“What’s the big deal?” Sam asked, tugging her hand to get her to hurry across the crosswalk. “Weddings are a pain in the ass. Even the small ones. Trust me.”
Ouch.
“I know, it’s just … I guess it never occurred to me that the wedding of Grace and Jake would be different than Grace with Greg.”
“Well, of course. Didn’t you say her ex-boyfriend was a womanizing jerk?”
Riley hissed at him. “Stop being rational. I’m trying to ruminate here.”
“About your friend’s fictional fantasy w
edding? Aren’t women supposed to ponder their own wedding?”
Riley was a little thrown off by his direct approach. This was the kind of early-relationship talk that was generally strictly off-limits. But then she and Sam weren’t exactly new to each other. And he seemed genuinely curious and removed, as though her eventual wedding had nothing to do with him.
Which of course, it didn’t. Riley may have been a bit smitten with the man, but she wasn’t a total sap. She hadn’t doodled his name in a notebook since college.
And she hadn’t daydreamed about walking down the aisle with him.
Well, okay. Maybe once. Or a few times.
The truth was, Riley had never let herself do much thinking about her own wedding. She didn’t know why. She guessed she’d figured she’d always be a spur-of-the-moment let’s-just-stop-by-the-courthouse kind of girl.
But hearing her best friends talk about vows and flowers and cake versus cupcakes (Riley had voted for both) had gotten her thinking about the whole white dress thing.
And wondering why she hadn’t put much thought into it before.
Maybe because it was hard to imagine yourself marrying some future Prince Charming when there was a guy in the here and now taking up all your thoughts. “Hey, Sam, you didn’t, you know … tell Mitchell and Jake about …”
“About …?”
“The fact that I’m a sexual sham.”
Sam frowned and pulled her to a stop outside the ice cream shop. “I thought we agreed you were going to knock that off.”
She avoided his eyes. “But you didn’t tell them?”
He lifted her chin. “You’re not a sham. You’re a gorgeous woman who knows herself well enough to wait for the right moment.”
Riley couldn’t hide the little smile. “You sound kind of like a mom talking to her fifteen-year-old daughter.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Did you want to get laid tonight? Because keep it up, and I might be on the next train back to Brooklyn.”
“Fine by me,” she said breezily, skipping away from him to open the door to the shop. “But then you can kiss that oral bit goodbye.”
“What oral bit?”
She grinned and headed into the shop. “Never mind, I think I’m changing my mind …”
