How to Ruin a Wedding(84)

“No, don’t backpedal now,” she says, quieter. “You’re always going to be this way, Lucy, aren’t you? Always going to dip one toe into trusting me, then yank it back the second it feels uncomfortable. Always going to share a little, hide a lot more, and push me away when you think you’re showing too much.”

I run a hand through my hair. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s not”—Taina gets up—“and I’m getting a little sick of it.”

She leaves me there, guilt rising in my chest and something heavier under it—something embarrassingly close to shame.





27.


Anders and I aren’t exactly a couple, so I’m trying not to get prematurely girlfriend-crazy at him for being unreachable all day. He’s been gone for three days already. The first day, we talked several times. The second, I was busy with Valerie and Taina for the whole psychic thing. And today, he’s supposed to be flying back here to make it in time for the Jack and Jill party tonight.

Maybe I’m more sensitive now because Taina hasn’t answered a single one of my calls and texts, and it would be nice to speak to another human being rather than sit in silence.

He said he was heading for the airport at seven in the morning, which was three hours ago, and he still hasn’t called me like he said he would. I need to update him on my plans for Valerie.

Sora walks up to me and lays his face on my lap.

“You want to go outside, cutie?”

He wags his tail, so I take him out back to run around. As he lays out, displaying his stomach to the sun, I sit on the rocking chair. My screen lights up. I answer before the first ring finishes.

“Anders,” I say into the phone before I hear the chaos of the early morning airport in the background.

“Hey, Lucinda,” he says, warmth with a hint of aggravation clipped at the edge.

“TSA beat you down?”

He snorts. “It’s insane here. A thunderstorm delayed most flights, including mine.”

Extra nerves begin to pinch my insides. “Will you make it in time for the party?”

“I’m not sure,” he answers. “Even if they get us on the plane, it’s pretty bad out there.”

I pause. “They won’t fly unless it’s safe to do so.”

A longer, more interesting pause. “Right.”

I sit up. “Anders, are you afraid of flying?”

“I don’t like your tone.”

I can’t hold back my laugh. “Aw, Anders, I didn’t know.”

“Let the record state I have made no such confession.”

“There’s nothing to be scared of,” I assure him. “Turbulence is like you’re in Jell-O. Just a fun little ride.”

“I’ve seen that video, and it brought me no comfort.”

“So, you admit you’re scared.”

He sighs. “You know, my great-great-grandfather died in a plane crash. I look just like him. Could be him reincarnated. Wouldn’t want to tempt fate.”

“Really?”

“No,” Anders admits, and I laugh. “But I don’t want you to think I’m some coward.”

“Coward, no,” I tease. “Scaredy-cat, on the other hand . . .”

“Anyway,” he says, “how is my dog?”

My dog. Already attached enough to claim Sora as his own. I knew he’d be a good owner.

“Good. Currently sunbathing.”

“And how’s my girl?”

My heart stutters. “Good. Watching your dog sunbathing, waiting for you.”

“I guess I’d better get on the plane if I can.”

Though his words are laced with warmth and sincerity, there’s still a hint of edge to them. If he’s stressed about even the thought of flying, I won’t add to it by telling him what I have planned. If he doesn’t make it, he’ll be freaking out about missing it. If he does, he’ll be trying to calm his ass down on the plane.

I’ll just check his flight info. We still have plenty of time for him to make it; the flight is just under three hours. Plenty of time before the party. Once he touches down, I’ll tell him in person—less stress for the anxious man.

“I hope so.” I inspect my nails. “I’m tan, my skin is glowing, and I’ve never been prettier. It would be a waste if you didn’t get to see me in all my glory.” Then, feeling a little cocky and wanting to ease some of Anders’s anxiety, I add, “In more ways than one.”

“Lucinda,” he calls my name softly.

“I don’t want to be a cliché ‘guess what I’m wearing tonight,’ so I’ll just tell you: With how tight my dress is, nothing at all underneath it.”

Anders sucks in a breath. “Need I remind you I’m in a very public place?”

“Just thought I’d remind you that I miss you,” I say. “Especially at night.”

“Lucinda.” This time, my name is a warning.

“But I’ve made do,” I add, “in your clothes, in your bed, thinking about you while I touch myself.”

There’s a rustle of movement, then, “Jesus Christ, Lucinda.”

“Talking about it is making me needy,” I go on. “Maybe I’ll head back to your room now.”