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“Define dressed.”
She peeked through her fingers, then her hands dropped. She gave my shirtless torso a sour look, then stepped inside and slid the door shut as I disappeared into the bathroom to take a piss. When I came back out, she was standing in the middle of my industrial loft, taking it all in. The high ceilings. The pristine gym area. The open, high-end kitchen off to one side.
The walls of windows overlooking downtown Vancouver, which were currently covered in blinds.
I opened the blinds with the remote and daylight poured in.
“Your place is… nice,” she said neutrally, hugging herself as she moved toward the kitchen and away from me.
“You expected me to live in the sewer?”
She gave me that sour little face of hers. “You’d be quite at home, I’m sure.”
I wandered over to her. “How did you find out where I live?”
“Invitation list.”
“Huh?”
“For the wedding. Did you not get your invitation?”
I stared at her. Was she for real right now?
“You want me to believe that you came all the way over here to make sure I got my invitation?”
She bristled. “You didn’t RSVP.” Her arms were angrily crossed, her shoulders were tight, and according to her grim little face, she was serious.
I fucking laughed. “RSVP?”
Her cheeks turned pink. “You have to RSVP. So everyone knows you’re coming.”
“Everyone?” I crossed my arms, kinda mirroring her stance but without the stick up the ass. “The only one who seems concerned about if I’m coming or not is you.”
She sucked in a breath like she was really trying not to lose her shit and said icily, “My mom asked me to help out with the wedding. So, I’m helping.”
Of course. Because she was such a good little girl that she’d do whatever Mommy and Stepdaddy said. “Did she ask you? Or did shetellyou to help out? There is a difference, you know.”
“This wedding means a lot to her,” she ground out, “and to your dad.”
“So?”
“So, are you going to show up for it?”
“Presumably.”
“Great. Then can you please get your suit fitting like you were supposed to?”
I eyed her. We were in a weird stand off, right here in my apartment. And I was barely awake yet. “And now you’re in my face about a suit?”
What was she doing here, really?
“Yes. Because Jacob and your brothers already got their suits and you’re all supposed to match. Don’t you ever think of anyone but yourself?”
I pretended to consider that. “I do. But they’re usually curvier than my dad and blonder than your mom.”
“Oh, he likes curvy blondes. How unexpected.”
My eyes dragged down her body. I was guessing, from the attitude on that, that she didn’t consider herself curvy or blonde.
