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“You’re the worst bride ever,” I retort, sitting up with a huff. “It’s easy, Day. Your color scheme is white with champagne and pink. Your chair sashes are champagne and your centerpiece is a mixture of both but predominantly pink. Just have plain, old white for the table cloths. It’ll make the rest stand out better.”

She looks at me and the fabric. And back again. And back again. “I take it back. You’re the best bridesmaid ever. You’re a fucking genius.”

“That’s what they say,” I mumble, lying back down and closing my eyes. I yawn and snuggle into my hood.

“Why don’t you go home and get some rest?”

“Dinner,” I mumble again. “Just need coffee.”

“Wow, is Tyler that good?” She laughs.

“I’ve done two long shifts. But if you really must know, yes, he is.”

So good that my supposed full night’s sleep last night ended up with a vibrator intervention at three a.m. I need to get that man to tie me to a bedpost—stat. These dreams are making my clit insanely achy.

“Here.” She waves a steaming mug of coffee under my face, and I force my eyes open. If only I could drink from a mug sitting down. I need a sippy cup when I’m this tired.

I shove myself up into a sitting position and hug the mug. “I’m not sleeping great,” I admit.

Dayton chews her lip and looks down so I can’t see the worry. But I do. It’s almost funny how my sleeping with different guys isn’t a cause for concern, but as soon as I stick to one, we have a problem.

“I like him,” I say out loud, more to myself than her. There. I said it. I admitted it. “But I don’t want to date him.”

“Sweetie, you don’t really know him. You can’t tell if you want to date him until you do.”

“I don’t want to know him. Not that way—not right down to where it matters. I’m not ready for that.” I blow into my coffee. “I just needed to say it out loud.” I take a large gulp of coffee. Ouch.

“Okay. But you do know…”

“That’s he’s a sex addict? Yep. What are the chances, right? A sex addict and a love addict in a relationship that’s not really a relationship at all. We should sell our story to Disney and see if they can create a happily ever after out of this shit.”

“Looking for tips?” Dayton teases.

“Happily ever after? A way out? I’m not fussy.” I snort.

The apartment door opens and Tyler walks through with Aaron. Neither looks happy.

“What did you do to them?” I whisper to Dayton.

She grins. “Did you get your suits fitted?”

Well, that’ll be it.

“Men shouldn’t be pricked,” Tyler answers, chucking his jacket on the sofa. He picks it up again at Dayton’s sharp cough. “We do the pricking, but I’m a fucking voodoo doll after that.”

“He’s right, sweetheart. You’re lucky I love you after that.” Aaron kisses her and sits down next to her. “I need some coffee.”

“You’re aware of where the coffee machine is, Mr. Stone. You put it there,” she retorts, picking up a wedding magazine.

“I’m done with this stuff today.” Aaron snatches it from her and throws it across the room.

She gasps and sits up straight. “You did not just throw that on the floor!”

“It’s a well-known fact that the only things that should be thrown on the floor are clothes,” I add, earning an agreeing nod from Dayton.

“Is that right?” Tyler leans over the back of the sofa next to me.

“I don’t know. British dickheads would look good there, too.”

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