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It wasn’t exactly an even playing field.
He had so much leverage over me, being who he was, and me being who I was, that I didn’t want to point out I’d had vivid dreams of living in this house ever since I was pretty much a (not yet potty-trained) toddler.
The house was gorgeous from the inside. With chevron accent walls, ranch-style furniture, and golden light switches. He had a classic white kitchen, sprawling with space and filled with patterns and textiles.
The bathrooms had claw-footed baths and all kinds of soaps I bet were strictly decorative, but wanted to use anyway, the philistine that I was.
There was no doubt in my mind this place had been the passion project of a pricey interior designer from out of town, and for a minute, I wanted to cry, I was so impressed with how beautiful and yet familiarly intimate it felt.
I rushed to find the game room, the one Bear had wanted to visit, when I heard the doorbell ring.
I stopped dead in my tracks.
My instincts told me not to answer it—it wasn’t my door after all, and Cruz and I had both planned to keep this a secret at least until Wyatt and Trinity’s wedding (and, let’s admit it, long after it, too, if I had my way).
Then again, Cruz had left the house so hastily. What if he’d been waiting for something and was now counting on me to receive it?
I slipped my phone out and shot him a quick text.
Tennessee: Hey, boyfriend. Your doorbell’s ringing. Should I get it?
His answer came less than five seconds later.
Cruz: Please.
Well.
At the very least, I was wearing one of the beautiful Anthropologie dresses he’d gotten me. So if it was someone from town, I could always say we were working on last-minute arrangements for our siblings’ wedding.
The doorbell chimed again, and I raced from the second floor to the entrance, flinging the door open.
Gabriella stood on the other side of the threshold, her big shiny black curls and thin smile in place. She had a deep tan and a knee-length, trendy powder-blue dress, not much different than the one I was wearing.
Her smile dropped as soon as she saw me.
“Messy Nessy.”
There was no question mark in her voice.
Not much surprise, either.
I leaned a hip against the doorjamb, disappointed I didn’t have gum to pop in her face as I took her in. “Sherlock. How can I help you?”
I allowed myself an attitude with her when Trinity wasn’t around. My personal payback for all the times she’d mistreated me while we were in company.
“What are you doing here?” She clutched her straw purse in her fist, baring her too-white teeth.
“Cruz and I are running the RSVPs against the seating arrangement one more time before the rehearsal dinner.” The lie slipped from between my lips so naturally, I made a note to pat myself on the back after she left.
She raised a skeptical brow. “You expect me to believe that?”
“I have no expectations from you whatsoever, but I would like to get on with my day. So if you could tell me how I can help you sooner rather than later, I’d appreciate it.”
“I want to talk to Cruz.”
She tilted her chin up. I had to hand it to her, she handled the situation with (relative) grace. I knew better than anyone how desperate she was to bag Fairhope’s favorite bachelor.
“Sorry, he went to help the Duggars give birth.”
