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“I’m afraid I need to take the blame on that one. Mia and I grew up together, and I’ve had a crush on her since we were teenagers but was always too much of a chicken shit to act on my feelings. Then she always had a boyfriend, and I didn’t think it was my place to step between her and who she was with. I saw this as my chance. Once I admitted how much I loved her, well, needless to say, I’m happy she returned those feelings.”
I don’t know where this story is coming from, but I go with it.
“I’ve loved Garrett for the majority of my life,” I add.
Reaching over, I interlace our fingers and rest them on his thigh. He glances at me but doesn’t retract his hand.
“But a wedding?” Fiona is still skeptical.
Garrett laughs lightly. “I’m sure we’re going to hear about it from everyone about rushing into things. Especially our folks.”
Oh shit. I hadn’t even thought about the reactions our families would have to our news.
“But the thing is,” he continues, “for us, it wasn’t rushing in. It was everything finally aligning. We couldn’t be happier and hope that everyone else wants to help us celebrate versus telling us we’re wrong.”
“Speaking of helping you celebrate, maybe you two would like to join us for a little pre-production party the director, Cole, is throwing next weekend?”
Garrett’s face doesn’t reflect any emotion as he waits for my answer.
“Does this mean I got the part?” I ask carefully.
“Not quite,” she tells me. “But I think this would be a good way to allay some of the apprehension about bringing you on board and also help celebrate your newlywed status.”
“Oh, um…” Is Garrett up for a party?
He jumps back in with, “We’d be delighted. Would it be possible for you to email the details to Mia’s assistant, Evie? We’re in the car right now, headed back to LA.”
“Of course,” she responds.
“Thank you so much. I look forward to meeting you in person at the party.”
“Looking forward to it,” she repeats. “We’ll see you next weekend.”
With that, she hangs up, and it’s the two of us again.
“Garrett, holy shit.”
“What?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like that.”
“Like what?” he asks.
“Talkative. Smooth. Commanding.”
“Commanding?” He coughs on the word.
“Assertive,” I correct.
He shrugs. “It’s part of what I do, Mia.”
“Ames,” I correct. He side-eyes me, and I continue. “I’m Ames with you.”
“Was just practicing,” he responds, squeezing my hand.
He still hasn’t pulled away and neither have I. I like the way his fingers separate mine, wrapping around them protectively.
“We didn’t talk about one thing.”
