Mine to Take (Southern Weddings #5)(12)
She looks at me as I walk past her. “I was in the area and figured I’d come work here a bit.”
“Cool,” I say, and I don’t know why it feels fucking awkward. When did it start feeling awkward? Was it always like this? Did I always get irritated when she came over?
I walk past the family room and toward the stairs, making my way to my bedroom. I open one of the double doors before stepping inside and seeing the drapes are open. When I bought this house, it had five bedrooms and I didn’t see the need for all the bedrooms, so I combined two bedrooms to make one massive one. There are six windows across the whole back wall with a sitting area right in front of it with a U-shaped couch I don’t really use. It faces the brick wall that has a fireplace on the bottom and television on top of it. The king-size bed is against the back wall facing everything. Walking onto the plush carpet, I go to the end of the room where the walk-in closet is. I dump my bags there before I shrug off my suit jacket. Unbuttoning the white dress shirt, I pull it out of my pants. I quickly slip into basketball shorts before walking downstairs.
I can hear Helena’s voice as I make my way into the kitchen, going straight over to the fridge. “Tuesday would be amazing,” she says and then I look over as I open a bottle of Gatorade, leaning on the counter behind me. A soon as she puts her phone down, the doorbell rings.
“The food is here.” She gets off the stool and walks over to the front door. She is wearing tight black jeans and a knitted shirt, and I wait for my dick to wake up, but nothing happens. I must be really fucking tired, I think to myself at the same time that my head laughs at me.
She walks back in with two brown carry-out bags. “I ordered you a couple of things since I didn’t know how hungry you were,” she explains, putting the bags on the island as she takes out the black to-go containers. “I got you chicken and also steak,” she says, and I turn to grab two forks and knives before walking over beside her. “I got you a baked potato and also some asparagus.”
“Thank you.” I stand beside her and look at her smiling. She grabs her two black containers as she walks over to where she was sitting, pushing her computer to the side. I pull the stool out beside her, sitting down, and opening my own containers.
“So how was the flight?” she asks as I cut a piece of steak.
“Short, thank God,” I answer, looking over at her. It dawns on me that she didn’t kiss me hello, but then I didn’t kiss her hello either. Have we gone into a room before without kissing each other?
“So I have some news,” she declares, and I look over as she grabs her grilled salmon and pops some into her mouth. “I called Sofia.”
The minute she says her name, everything inside me tingles away. “What?” I say, looking up at her, trying to calm my body down. But it’s as if my body is getting ready to go to war with a hurricane.
Helena doesn’t even catch the change in the room as she continues to eat her salmon, like she didn’t just drop a bomb on me. “I checked your schedule,” she continues slowly, and I want to yell at her to hurry up, but all my words are stuck in the back of my throat. The food I ate starts to come back up. “And I know you have Tuesday off, so we are meeting her at her office.” She smiles at me.
I can’t do anything but blink at her. “Why?” I ask the stupid question. Obviously, I know why.
“Because she is the only one I connected with,” she clarifies. “I met with four other planners since her, and she is the only one who knew what she was doing.”
I look back at my food and wonder if I should tell her who Sofia is. But then, something stops me. “We should go over a couple of things.” I push the food around the containers, thinking about the things we should go over.
“That is why we are meeting with Sofia,” she says, “she is going to help us every step of the way.”
“Have you thought about not having a wedding planner?” I ask. “My aunts and mother are pretty much all party planners at this point.”
“Absolutely not,” she declares, shaking her head. “I’ve met them maybe three times. They don’t know my style, nor do I want to spend that much time with them.”
“What?” I ask, shocked. “My family is a big part of my life.”
“And you can have that part of your life and I’ll be there when I have to be, but they are just—what is the word I’m thinking of?”
“Amazing,” I say, annoyed with her even more than I ever was.
“Pushy,” she replies. “Wait, that isn’t a good word. Overbearing.” She points her fork at me. “That’s an accurate account of them.”
“You don’t even know them,” I say, getting defensive. “You spent what… an hour with them?”
“I spent the whole Sunday with them at the Sunday lunch.” She shakes her head. “Everyone is in everyone’s business. They ask questions that they shouldn’t.”
“Like what?” I’m shocked and pissed. Can my family be overbearing? One thousand and one million percent, but I wouldn’t want anyone else on my side. They are all ride or die. It’s just like, known. You have a problem, you make one phone call, and you have the support of everyone. It’s what I thought every family was until I met Helena’s family, and they didn’t ask me one question about myself. They were prim and proper and the opposite of what my family was like. I knew it then, but I had no idea she felt like this.