Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100277 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100277 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Can’t. Roger asked me to come listen to a new demo.
Twenty minutes later, Rafe responded to my lie.
Okay. I guess I’ll just pick you up at your place for the wedding?
I blinked in confusion at his text for a second, and then I remembered. Shit.
Jen and Greg’s friends were renewing their vows on a Wednesday of all days and the reception was on a yacht (in October!) of all things. I’d used one of my personal days so I could attend as Rafe’s date because the couple in question were like an aunt and uncle, he’d said.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
Well, I would have to face him sometime.
Sure. What time?
Chapter Thirty-One
“I missed you,” Rafe confessed when he picked me up on Wednesday morning.
I wished he’d told me he loved me instead.
The wall I put up was just instinctual. It was the wall I’d learned to build, brick by brick, against Arlo and Dawn. It kept the people who could hurt me behind a barrier between them and my heart, so they had no chance of crushing it.
When he kissed me hello, I barely kissed him back. While I answered his questions, I didn’t encourage conversation. Instead, I sat in his cool car in a wedding outfit Pippa picked out. It was a golden-yellow pencil dress that restricted my movement, and I wanted to tear the skirt right up the side so I could walk easier in the matching stilettos. On my lap was a matching purse. On my head was a freaking matching hat.
I missed my flowy floral dresses and my wedges. I wanted to rip off the hat and replace it with a flower crown.
My lack of loquaciousness, the numbness that had settled into my bones, caused Rafe to brood. When that man was in brooding mode, his bad vibes could fill an entire auditorium. If I hadn’t been locked inside my head, I probably would have suffocated beneath the ferocity of his brooding.
The beach and yacht club where the Whitmans’ friends, the Taylors, were getting married was a ten-minute drive from Rafe’s parents’ home. A valet parked the car and I walked into the venue ahead of Rafe. He caught up with me and took a tight hold of my hand, tight enough to draw me out of my sullen stupor. Staring straight ahead, his expression was aloof, but I noted the grim lines around his mouth.
The crushing hold he had on my hand.
“Rafe, you’re hurting me.”
He didn’t look at me, but his hand eased up on mine. Still, he didn’t let go.
The ceremony was being held in the club’s ballroom. Pippa waved us over to a row of chairs where she sat next to Hugo, Charmaine, Jen, Greg, and Gigi. As Rafe and I slid into the row, we exchanged hellos and pleasantries and told each other how nice we looked.
“You look perfect in that yellow. I’m so glad I convinced you to buy this outfit for today.” Pippa preened, patting my shoulder.
Rafe, who still hadn’t let go of my hand, tightened his fingers around mine at her words, and I had to jerk on him to get him to ease up again.
* * *
• • •
“Who peed in Rafe’s cereal this morning?” Gigi grimaced an hour later as we stood on the upper deck of the large yacht docked in the marina.
I frowned innocently at her. “Excuse me?”
“Rafe.” She gestured to where her brother had departed to get us drinks from the bar. “I haven’t seen him this moody since before he met you. Did you guys fight?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” I shrugged.
Gigi’s brows pinched together. “Do you even care if he’s in a shitty mood?”
“He’s not in a bad mood,” I denied.
“No one should be in a bad mood today,” Pippa interrupted, appearing at our sides with Hugo and another couple, who looked vaguely familiar. I was pretty sure I’d already met them multiple times at other parties, but I had never been good with names. “Why Hugo and I never had our reception on a yacht, I do not know. It’s fabulous.”
“Yeah, maybe in September, but it’s cold in October.” Gigi wrapped her shawl tighter around her. “Where’s Charmaine?”
“On the lower deck with the other kids watching a movie. There’s a nanny looking after them.” Pippa glanced behind her at the bar. “Oh, Hugo, Rafe is getting drinks. Could you help him?”
Once Hugo departed, Pippa drew me into a conversation with the couple (whose names I still couldn’t remember), who were interested in hiring Pamela to redesign their summer house on Martha’s Vineyard. Gigi, the traitor, made an excuse to leave and I was left there, nodding along as they talked on and on about their visions for the house. In fact, they were so decided in what they wanted, I think they were looking for a stylist, not an interior designer.