Truth or Date(6)

“That’s what I heard.” He reached for the check as soon as the waiter set it down. “How’s living with Kristen?”

“It’s . . . a lesson in compromise.” I laughed, realizing how true that was. “But we’re having a good time. Thanks for lunch.”

“Anytime.” He set a few bills in the check folder, pushed it to the side of the table, then leaned on an elbow. “What about dinner Friday night? If you’re free, that is. I know it’s short notice.”

My insides glowed at the invitation. “Actually, we have the rehearsal dinner Friday night.”

“I see.” He kept his eyes on me as the waiter took the bill. “Saturday night?”

“Is the wedding.” The reason Kristen had introduced us in the first place. Here was my chance. I’d screened him. Charming. Considerate. And apparently eager to see me again. I’d been quite comfortable with him all evening, with the exception of his bacon comment. I bit my lip, but for some reason couldn’t pull the trigger on inviting him to be my date to the wedding. Suddenly, Chris’s intense blue eyes invaded my mind, warming my belly. I frowned. “How about dinner tomorrow night? I know it’s not the weekend, but—”

“I’d love to,” Ethan said. We both smiled at the same time, then rose from the table. He came up beside me, his arm shadowing my lower back as we strolled toward the exit.

Every ounce of me ached to scan Chris’s table to see if he and the gorgeous brunette were indeed discussing business, but I refused to look. It was time for me to make the hard decisions and grow up, which included ignoring the same impulses that had led me wrong last time.



CHAPTER FOUR



Standing in front of the three-way mirror at Blissfully Bridal for my second dress fitting, I stared at the elegant red gown which, this time, was way too big on me. I checked my watch for the umpteenth time. “Please tell me we’re almost finished?”

Ellen pinched some fabric together on my back, which smoothed out a miniscule crease on the bodice of my gown. “Not quite.”

“Out of pins.” The exotic seamstress, Kathia, huffed as she rose from her kneeling position and patted my arm. “I’m gonna be right back. Try not to move, hon. We don’t want you to bleed on the dress.”

“I’ll help.” Ellen hurried after the seamstress, needing to supervise every job related to the wedding—no matter how tiny.

Although, if she’d been supervising my calorie intake the last few months then we wouldn’t be here (having a size ten made into an eight) and I’d be at home getting ready for my friend-date like I was supposed to be. Not that I’d ever give up my new beau for a smaller dress size. Cookie Dough Ice Cream had proved to be a delectable companion.

But I didn’t want Chris to look bad in front of his new boss by making him late. Unfortunately, I couldn’t call to tell him I’d been held up by a super anal bride because I’d inadvertently left my cell in the car.

I tapped my heeled foot and turned to Rach, who was sitting cross-legged in a white satin-covered chair playing with her phone. “How much more can they possibly tweak this dress? It figures Ellen would find someone as finicky as her. I’m beginning to have empathy for pin cushions.”

“You know how Ellen is.” Rach ran her fingers across her cell’s screen. “It has to be perfect with a capital P.”

I frowned. “Who are you texting?”

“Nobody. Just cruising the net looking for coupons.” She pressed an icon on the screen. “After this, Ellen and I are hitting the mall to swimsuit shop for her Hawaiian honeymoon. Should be relatively low-stress, compared to this anyway, if you want to come.”

“Can’t. I have a dinner thing.” Lifting my wrist, I checked the time again. “I’m supposed to be there in twenty minutes. How long does it take to get a few measly pins? I already don’t have time to go home and change let alone touch up my make-up and hair.”

“We’re lucky Kathia squeezed us in this late on a Wednesday night. You know how booked her schedule is.” Then, she paused. “Wait, who are you going out with? A guy?”

More like a hot guy. Who’s sweet, makes me smile when he teases, and who finds all girls datable except me. “Chris Bradley.”

She squealed. “You asked him out like I told you? I’m so proud!”

“It’s not like that at all.” I raked my fingers though my hair, trying to (unsuccessfully) bring the flattened curls to life again. “He and I were playing Truth or Dare and—”

“Sounds sexy.” Her phone went back in her handbag and she gave me her full attention. “When did that happen? And don’t spare even the smallest detail.”

“Stop.” I threw her a look that said gimme-a-break. “You know I’m not interested in Chris.”

“You’re a girl, you’re single, and you have eyes.” Her hands fisted her in lap. “So once again, I ask, why not?”

“Hmmm.” I twisted toward her, jerking back when I felt a poke in my hip. “Let’s see, Alisha, Grace, Carol, Christa, Megan—”

“Are girls he’s dated. In the past. So? You were with George. What did you expect a young, successful, attractive guy to do? Live a celibate life, hoping your very long-term and seeming-to-have-no-end relationship would suddenly come to an end?”

Would that be so wrong?

“Of course not.” I rolled my eyes to show how ludicrous the thought was. “A girlfriend or two would be a different story though. It’d show that he wants relationships, not just the nearest pretty face. Do you want me to waste another decade of my life on Mr. Wrong?”

“With Chris?” She bit her bottom lip. “I don’t know. That’d be a mighty fun decade.”

The image of Chris’s hand popped into my mind. Smooth. Tan. Strong. I shivered. “Here’s a more likely scenario: We date for a month, I fall for him, then I’m crushed when he’s bored and moves on to the next girl?” My heart ached at the mere thought. “You have to agree that is his pattern.”

Rach twisted her mouth to the side. “He was with Cyndi over a month, I think.”

Now she was reaching. “Two months then. Whatever. I want more than he has to offer. You should understand where I’m coming from. Don’t you want to get married and have kids one day?”

“Yes.” She crossed her legs and withdrew her cell again. “Unfortunately, I can’t find a man who won’t sleep with my hairdresser.”

“Ugh.” I groaned. Rachel’s ex was such a louse. “At least George never stooped that low.”

“How low?” Ellen reappeared with Kathia and they began attacking the gown again. “What are we talking about?”

“Cheating.” I peeked at the time. “Ellen, the dress looks great and, I hate to say this, but I have somewhere to be.”

“We’re almost done.” She crouched down to where the hem swept the floor, pointed to a spot near the slit, and Kathia went at it. Ellen gazed up at me, concern in her eyes. “Who’s cheating on who?”

“Jeremy,” I said. “Old news.”

Rachel sighed. “Can we make it a rule to never again bring up the J word?”

“Deal.” I couldn’t help wondering if Chris had overlapped any of the girls he’d dated. “Rach? Do you have Chris’s number in your phone?”

She gave me a weird look. “Why would I have his number?”

Her defensive tone made me wonder. “Calm down. I just need to tell him not to pick me up at my house. He’s supposed to be there in eight minutes and you know . . .”

I gestured toward the ladies crouching down at my already well-fitted dress.

“I believe we have it.” Kathia spoke through a mouthful of pins. “What do you think, Ellen?”

We all gazed in the center mirror at the striking, red, strapless number and held our breaths, waiting for the bride’s decision. With the (many) pins, it flowed over my curves without a single wrinkle, crinkle, or flaw. The dress looked amazing. Well, according to me anyway. We’d have to hear the boss’s conclusion.

Ellen’s expression was unreadable. I fought not to bounce on my heels as the minutes ticked by and I sensed the very real possibility that we’d be spending all night tailoring this gown.

She skirted around the dress, eyeing every inch up and down. Finally, her gaze flew to Kathia, to Rachel, then landed on me. Her face broke with emotion and she put both hands to her cheeks as tears filled her eyes. “It’s just perfect. B-Beautiful.”

I let out a whoosh, ready to un-zip out of this thing. “Thank goodness.”

Instead of letting me skidaddle, Ellen pulled me into a crushing bear-hug and refused to let go. She let out a sob. “Oh, Gina.”

I pulled back, pushing her dirty-blonde locks away from her face, trying to gauge what was going on. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, tears streaming down her face. “I-I think it just finally hit me. I’m getting married in four days.”

Witnessing her tears of joy, my throat suddenly tightened and my own eyes watered. “You’re supposed to be smiling. You and Henry will have the world’s most perfectly organized wedding.”