How to Ruin a Wedding(67)

But that’s the last time. That’s where I draw the line.

From now on, it’s about the job, and the job alone.

I take a fortifying breath and let myself in. I kick off my shoes beside Anders’s and pause.

How nice would it be to always see them beside each other like this?

I turn around, walk out, then step back in.

There. Fresh start. Starting now.

When I walk through the hall that spits me out to the kitchen, Anders is there cutting up an avocado. I don’t make a sound with my bare feet, but he looks up as soon as I step in.

“You’re back,” he says, pushing a plate toward me as I join him.

“Smells good in here,” I comment.

“Hopefully it tastes as good too,” he says, dropping slices of avocado on a plate of rice, beans, and tofu. “I read a recipe on how to make Puerto Rican rice and beans. If it’s horrible, then we can order out.”

“Are you kidding me?” I snap. I need to go outside and let myself back in again.

“Um, no?” He does his cute little head-cock thing. “If you don’t want to try, there are plenty of delivery options.”

“I’m not hungry,” I snap again, though my heart threatens to burst from its cage. It’s like it and my brain can’t get on the same page, and the contradicting emotions are going to drive me insane. “I mean, I don’t feel that well.”

“Did I get you sick?” He immediately approaches me, hand on my forehead. “You don’t feel warm. What’s wrong?”

Out of all the things my brain can think of, I say, “I just got my period.”

“Oh.” He blinks, then recovers instantly. “Can I get you anything? I can go to the store.”

“Nope.” I step away from him. “I’m all prepared. I’m just going to shower and go to sleep, okay?”

“Lucinda—”

“Good night!”

I practically fling myself into my room. No, the guest room. Not my—nothing here is my anything. It’s something I repeat when I shower, washing the day away, a needed reminder.

It was way too easy to fall for everyone involved in this, but I should have been better at keeping a distance. Of course, I know that my situation is difficult. I am in a very emotional stage of my life, and I have a lot on the line. Can I keep blaming myself for making very human errors?

Yes, but all I can think about is the way Anders says he hates the way I speak about myself—a sentiment now that’s not only helping me be easy on myself, but driving me up the wall that he would be so kind to me.

When I exit the bathroom, Anders is hunched over the bedside table. When he rights himself, he drops the heating pad he plugged in on the side of the bed.

Are you kidding me?

“Hey.” He notices me and gestures to a bottle of pain medicine on the table. “These should help with the pain. Val left them here a while ago. Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat?”

“I’m sure,” I say, heading for the bed. I immediately pull the sheets to my chest. “I just want to sleep.”

“Okay,” he says, then pauses by my feet. “Is there a reason you won’t look me in the eyes?”

“Maybe I’m too busy focusing on my uterus being ripped apart?” I counter.

He blows out a breath, paces by the foot of the bed, until I say, “Is something wrong?”

“Not wrong,” he says.

“Well, that sounded like a lie.”

He chuckles. “If you’re still feeling bad tomorrow, let me know.”

“Tell me now, Anders,” I say, since it’s clear he’s waiting to ask something.

“With Valerie planning on getting married and everything,” he says, “my father wants us all to have dinner together. He wants to sit down with John and the rest of us tomorrow. Valerie mentioned you to him, and he asked if you’d join.”

“Ah,” I say. A very different request from usual. One that sends an uncomfortable array of nerves through me. “When’s the last time you had a meal with him?”

“Me?” He makes a face as he thinks back. “Not for a couple of years now. Valerie, though, a couple of months ago. She has a bit of a soft spot for him. Keeps hoping he’s developed the emotions a father should have.”

Instantly, I feel this protectiveness start to flood me. I want to go, be a support system for Anders, be ready to step in if he hurts Valerie’s feelings.

But that has nothing to do with wrecking Valerie’s wedding, and is exactly the kind of blurred line Anders and I have been dancing along.

“I’m sorry,” I say. Truly, I am. “But my period is the worst on the second day. I usually just take some medicine and sleep the entire time.”

He nods. “Okay, no worries, of course.” He moves toward the door. “I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

“Anders—”

“Sleep well,” he says, and I feel like the worst person on the planet.

Anders has repeatedly shown up for me, outside of the job, without question. I know that. But if I don’t draw a line now, neither of us ever will.

I don’t get more than an hour of sleep.

The next morning, Anders comes in with more medicine and water and asks if I’m feeling any better. I’m so emotional about abandoning him when he needs me that when I say “No,” he presses a kiss on my forehead and returns with some soup and crackers and Vicks, which he rubs into the heels of my feet.