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“I asked her not to. And I think we convinced her it’s not Topher’s wedding. She was suspicious until Freddy …” I trail off.
“So wait. He’s just your bodyguard? You and Frederick aren’t together?” Lucy folds her arms over her chest. “I call bull-honky on that one.”
Oh, Lucy. I love this girl so much. “Well, thatwasthe case up until two days ago.”
Lucy squeals. “Ooo, I need details!”
That brings tears to my eyes. “You do?”
“Of course. Hello! My own love life isn’t exactly thriving. I need to live vicariously through my friends.”
“So, we’re still … friends?”
“Of course we are.” She tilts her head. “Friends confess when they’ve done something wrong. And friends forgive those friends for their mistakes. So, see? We’re friends.”
I tackle her with a hug, holding her tight. “Thank you, Luce.”
She pulls back, and the white of her smile glows against her dark lips. “Thanks for being honest with me. And don’t worry. I’ll send out an SOS text to the ladies to put on their thinking caps. We’ll get together if we have to and hunt down information. We’ll find you a perfect venue. I’m assuming the beach isn’t private enough, right?”
I nod. She understands perfectly.
“All right, then. We’ll get this sorted. But first”—she looks me dead in the eye with as serious a look as Lucy ever has—“I need to know alllll the details about how Bodyguard Frederick came to be Lover Boy Frederick. And don’t leave anything out.”
twenty
FREDERICK
Watching the woman I love in her element is a new favorite hobby of mine.
A gaggle of women flit around Something Blue, tearing the place practically apart as they search for clues. All right, they’re not destroying anything, but they’ve got stuff spread out all over the sitting area in back. It’s a bit of a mess, but despite the challenge of finding a new venue, Chloe looks happier than I’ve seen her in a while.
She’s got Lucy on one side of her, Marilee on the other, and they’re flipping through a huge album of photos, presumably of past weddings organized by Something Blue. April’s stretched out on her stomach on the floor, feet in the air behind her as she pages through some old documents from a file folder that came from the office. Elisse is in the big armchair, her legs flung over the side as she leans back on a pillow, a binder open.
All of Chloe’s new friends except for Kelsey—who had something come up at the last minute—are here. She called them one by one last night after her chat with Lucy. Told them the truth. Asked them to forgive her, and then, if they were willing, to help her.
Obviously, they did. And they were. Because here they are.
Chloe must feel me watching her, because she glances up at me. “You sure you don’t want to help us, Muscles?”
“I like my spot right here, thanks.” I’m standing in the corner, which gives me the perfect vantage point to observe everyone in the room and also the front door. At this point, I don’t expect any threats to crop up, but with this many people knowing Chloe’s identity, I’m not taking any chances.
Elisse narrows her eyes at me, as if she’s trying to puzzle something out. “I knew there was something off about you. You watched Chloe like a hawk every time you were together.”
“That’s because he loves her,” Lucy says from across the room.
Is it possible to feel your face redden? I mean, I do love Chloe, but I haven’t told her that yet. And I won’t feel comfortable telling her that until I speak to Topher. Until I know how things will work out between us. Ignoring Lucy’s comment, I subtly check my watch, which connects with my phone. Still no return text from Topher. I messaged him this morning asking him to call when he had time for a “casual chat.”
No, it’s anything but casual, but by phrasing it that way, I knew he wouldn’t rush to call me.
Am I a coward? Maybe. But I haven’t wanted anything to ruin the time I’ve had with Chloe in near-perfect bliss here in Hallmark Beach. Topher knowing about us brings another element into things.
It makes it real—and while I’m ready to be real with Chloe, I’m not sure I’m ready for reality back home.
“Aw, look, he’s blushing.” April’s watching me from over her shoulder. “That’s freaking adorable.”
“There’s nothingadorableabout me,” I say with as much dignity as I can muster. Women and their adjectives.
“I can think of a few things,” Chloe whispers, and the group breaks into giggles.
