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Timothy gives me a lopsided grin. “I counted your drinks. You were off your head, but it wasn’t the alcohol.”
“I’m not on anything, if that’s what you’re implying.” I snap.
Timothy makes a noise and stops. Directly over Jessie’s pajamas, lying on an otherwise clean floor. His grin gets impossibly huge as he rubs his hands together and bounces on his feet. “Why are my sister’s pajamas in your room?”
I yawn to give myself time to come up with something. “She keeps leaving her shit all over the bathroom floor. Thought I’d hold them hostage until she agrees to clean up after herself.”
Timothy’s smile dims. “She’ll starch your undies in retaliation. Is she up yet?”
“How would I know?” I ask, irritated. “What time is it?”
He glances at the door to the bathroom and frowns. “Ten.”
Dammit. That doesn’t leave much time for a coffee. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”
Timothy glances down at his faded black Warwick T-shirt and torn jeans and shrugs. “I already look good. You look like you went a couple of rounds with—”
Celia shouts Timothy’s name from somewhere downstairs and he sighs before yelling back that he’ll be down in a minute. “We leave in thirty—tell Jessie to get her ass out of the shower.”
“You tell her,” I say with a yawn.
“I don’t want to die on my wedding day.”
“And I do?”
Timothy grins and jabs two fingers at his eyes, flicks them to me, then back to his eyes, but he walks out and I think our secret is safe. For now.
Chapter nineteen
Jessie
Thebutterfliesinmystomach, jolted into action by Timothy’s rude wake-up, never settle. That was too close. I’m going to ignore Nic today. Might even be a little mean if I find either Timothy or Mina watching us.
The venue is a gorgeous villa none of us have time to notice as we scramble out of cars, a little more than fashionably late, in a flurry of garment bags, scarves, and shouted instructions as we split into three groups. I follow Mina down the elegant hall to the bridal suite, glancing over my shoulder to exchange a heated look with Nic before he’s pulled into the groom’s suite.
Mina is freaking out over her vows. Lexi and Charlotte tease her and soothe her in turn while my mom bustles about, possibly fueling Mina’s panic with her nervous energy. Hazel comes in with Evie and someone pops the champagne. After a few glasses and some hilarious stories about Timothy, Mina calms down enough to have her hair and makeup done. Hopefully, she’s realized the only way she could screw this up would be to not make it down the aisle.
One of my few skills is the ability to transform myself from a swamp hag to Instagram-worthy in a short time, so I’m ready before the others, without the help of the stylist.
I sneak out, hoping to catch Timothy before the ceremony. He shouldn’t be in the chapel yet, but it’s on my way to the groom’s suite, so I stop and peek inside. It’s a winter wonderland, with garlands, red roses, and little lights twinkling. It’s cozy and elegant and maybe I don’t paint anymore, but if I did, I’d try to capture the details. Red petals against pine needles. The drape of a satiny white ribbon. No Timothy, but already family and friends are seated inside. More people will come for the reception in the Crystal Ballroom but Timothy and Mina wanted this part to be more private.
I knock on the door to the groom’s suite. Nic opens it and slips out, closing the door behind him just enough to shield the room from my view. He gives me a slow, appreciative once over, his smile growing. I might be gawking—he looks like a dream in his tailored three-piece charcoal gray suit. I think I smile back at him, but those butterflies flitting about my stomach all morning? They take flight and I forget I’m supposed to ignore him. I forget everything because this secret sex thing with Nic? It’s exciting.
Nic glances over his shoulder. “I don’t think I can sneak away.”
“I don’t want you,” I whisper.
“Liar,” he whispers back.
From somewhere in the room, Timothy calls out, “Tell my soon-to-be missus it’s bad luck to see me before the wedding, no matter how badly she needs to jump on this—”
“It’s Jessie.” Thankfully, Nic interrupts him before I hear enough to make me lose my breakfast. Which consisted of cookies scarfed down in the car on the ride over.
“Oh. She can come in.” Timothy calls back. “Danny’s mostly decent.”
Nic opens the door for me, leaning over to whisper, “Your brother is obnoxious today. Like a kid on a sugar high.”
“Today? Try always,” I say, walking into the room.
