Aunt Sheila shakes her head.
“You can’t pay me enough money to go to New York,” Mom continues, thin brows raised as she reaches for a roll of rose gold ribbon.
“You’re really missing out,” Jude says. “There’s so much to do and see there. Some of the finest restaurants in the world are there. We’ve got museums. Broadway. Oh, and Love. She’s there too.”
I nudge him under the table. Telling her to come see me is a lost cause that I haven’t fought in years. Once I almost got her to book a flight, but she asked if she could sleep on it and changed her mind in the morning. Carting her around the city and listening to her complain the whole time would be more work than it’s worth.
Jude’s underhanded remark goes over her head and she goes right back to talking about what a shithole Manhattan is.
“I heard they’ve got giant rats in the subways. And bed bugs!” She clasps the cross necklace dangling from her neck. “The whole city is infested with those disgusting things.”
“Mom,” I say, cutting her off so I can put her back on track. “Jude’s a consultant.”
“Oh, is that right?” Mom asks. Everyone turns to him. “What do people consult you for?”
“I specialize in strategic business consulting,” he says. “Boring stuff.”
“Oh, Edie, you know…” There goes Mom, changing the subject again. Or maybe she just needs to control the conversation because she needs something to control amidst all the chaos. “I ran into Carrie Ross down at the Wiggly Pig on Westwood the other day. You know her oldest just graduated from law school last month? Couldn’t pass the bar. Poor thing is so upset. All that tuition money down the drain. He’s going to try again, but can you imagine?”
“You want to go?” I whisper to Jude.
He shrugs. “It’s your call.”
Rising, I tell everyone we’re heading out so we can get plenty of rest for the week. By the time we get back to the rental car, it’s been a solid fifteen minutes. Quick goodbyes aren’t a thing in my family. Someone always has to ask a question or chat your ear off so you can’t get away.
“So,” I say when we climb in.
Jude starts the car and fusses with the radio, tuning it to classic rock and adjusting the volume so we can still talk.
“You survived,” I say.
He laughs through his nose as he backs out of Mom’s driveway.
“You really had no faith in me, did you?” He reaches for my hand, bringing it to his lips and depositing a kiss as we head to the hotel.
“I was really set on coming to the wedding by myself,” I say, watching how natural he looks behind the wheel of a car with one hand slung over the steering wheel and a relaxed expression blanketing his handsome face. Impressive for a city boy. He claims he had a car before he moved to the city, a 1987 Firebird with T-tops, and he’s always kept his license current because he never knew when he was going to need it again. “But I’m kind of glad you weaseled your way into this.”
He turns to me as we slow to a stop at a red light. “Weaseled? Is that what I did?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I don’t think I do,” he says. “But feel free to show me just how glad you are as soon as we get back to the hotel …”
He read my mind.
Twenty-Four
Jude
* * *
The hotel door opens Tuesday and I sit up, muting the TV. Love drags herself toward the bed, collapsing on the edge. She looks exhausted, but I know better than to tell a woman that. Besides, even as tired as she is from running around these last couple of days, she still looks amazing; messy hair, sleepy eyes, and all.
“Here,” I say, scooting closer to her and rubbing her shoulders. “I’ve got you.”
“I feel like I could sleep for a million years,” she says, tilting her head from side to side as I massage her stiff muscles.
“Why are you doing all these things for her? Can’t she delegate some of this stuff to other people? And doesn’t she have a wedding coordinator?”
“All of her friends are fake and unreliable,” Love says, “and she’s my sister. She did the same things for me when I got married. Well … not quite to this extent, but still. There’s no one else.”
“You’re way too damn nice, Love.”
She exhales. “I know. I’m working on that.”
“You’ll go crazy trying to please everyone.” I kiss a trail up the side of her neck and she giggles. “But feel free to please me anytime you want.”
Turning, she straddles me, her hands on my chest and sliding over my shoulders. “God, you’re cheesy.”
“You love it.”
She kisses me, the shape of her grin pressing across my mouth, and another little part of me dies because I’d give anything for this to be real in a way that worked out for the both of us.
“Oh. Bob’s bachelor party is this Thursday,” she says. “Cameo wanted to ask me if you’d go.”
“Isn’t he too old for a bachelor party? What’s he going to do, watch golf and drink single malt Scotch?”
“I didn’t realize there was an age restriction on bachelor parties,” she says. “Anyway, are you in or are you out?”
“Oh, I’m definitely in.”
Love’s hands hook around my neck and she leans in, grazing her lips on mine. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being you,” she says, in a way that breaks my heart in two. “For everything.”
Love collects the hem of her summer dress in her hands and tugs it over her head before reaching for my belt and her panties. Last night she was lying on my shoulder, her hand against my thrumming heart, and she told me she’d never been this voracious before, but I make her comfortable, I make her feel like she can let her hair down and enjoy this, and I’m the only man who’s ever done that for her.
Love straddles me, reaching for the lamp on the side table and dimming the lights before grabbing a rubber.
“You have ten minutes until I’m out for the night,” she says, flicking the gold foil packet and flashing a wicked smirk. “Make ‘em count, Jude Warner.”
Flipping positions, I pin her against the mattress. She’s already exhausted, so I’m not going to make her do all the hard work.
Pressing my mouth against her hot flesh as I enter her, I can’t ignore the weight in my chest. It’s a reminder that I’m on a sinking ship. There’s no life preserver. Nothing that can save me from the inevitable.
The more I get to know Love, the more I realize she’s not the evil, money hungry, Park Avenue princess Hunter described to me.
She’s … everything, and even that doesn’t fully encompass my opinion of this woman.
I’ve never known someone so sweet, so intelligent, so easy to be around. These last couple of weeks, I’ve all but smothered her and I haven’t grown tired of her yet, which is a first.
The only thing I’m certain of is regardless of which direction this goes, I lose Love either way.