Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“So, how do you both know each other?” I ask, pointing to them both. I slide next to my brand-new husband and let Parker serve as a human shield.
Slowly, he lowers himself back down, resting his foot over his knee. Why’s he staring at me like that?
His finger works a line over his upper lip, doing his best to hide a smirk. How old are you?
Parker is forty-eight, and this friendship spans an age chasm wider than the twenty years between my husband and me.
Parker squeezes my shoulder, a gesture more rehearsed than corny reality TV shows.
“Ivy, meet Asher Jameson. You might know him from all the…” he waves a hand through the air, as if he can’t be bothered wasting his precious breath on explaining it. “…Hollywood.”
Asher’s smirk deepens.
I lift a single brow. “Sorry, I don't binge Love Island.”
His focus drops to my mouth. This man has been fed compliments like communion wine his entire life. I refuse to add another drop to his ocean-sized ego.
“Hilarious.” Parker's monotone pulls me back to reality. He taps his knuckles against my thigh. “Go shower. You smell like a sewer rat.”
I squeeze his hand with mine, flashing one last smile at Asher. “Of course. It was nice to meet you.”
Before I hit the corner that leads to the hallway, I turn, and my stomach lurches when I find Asher’s eyes still on me as Parker yaps about whatever mindless topic he’s on.
In a slow sweep, his focus drops to my exposed belly before lifting back to meet my gaze. Is he still smirking?
I shake off his spell and launch myself toward the stairs, obeying Parker like the good little wife I'm pretending to be.
My bedroom door is barely shut when my phone dances across the bedside table.
I snatch it from the charger and answer.
“Yes?”
A horn blares on the other end. “You bastard!”
I relax, all tension evaporating from my muscles.
“Can you believe the lunatics in this city? Bunch of fucking savages. Some jackass just baptized my new Valentinos with gutter sludge!”
Nobody comes between Lucinda and her designer obsessions.
“God, I've missed you,” I confess, slipping into the bathroom.
“I was literally at your wedding yesterday. Chill. This codependence is reaching pathological levels.” There’s a muffled pause. “Wait, Jord's jumping in.”
“Jumping in?” I turn on the shower and sit on the closed toilet lid.
“Yes! Switch to FaceTime.”
I roll my eyes and accept the video call. Both their faces crowd the screen. Lucinda's perfectly put together and Jord's… shit, he looks wrecked. His blond hair sticks up in seventeen different directions, his eyes barely cracked open.
Jesus Christ. The guy's a walking advertisement for bad decisions.
“Did you just crawl out of a dumpster?” I squint at him.
“Yes,” Jord croaks. “Some of us actually celebrate at weddings. I consumed enough alcohol for both of us. And for your husband, who has a stick up his ass.”
I change the subject. “Can you both speed this along? I need to shower and play host to Parker's mystery friend.”
They freeze.
Lucinda stops walking, causing some poor pedestrian to slam into her. She doesn't notice.
“Friend? Since when does Parker have those?” She asks, and is that skepticism I sense?
I peel off my sweaty clothes. “Since today, apparently.”
Jord clears his throat. Even hungover, the man’s brain can work a conspiracy faster than I can think of what to eat. “Speaking of mysteries, anyone heard from Punk lately?”
The subject change isn't a change at all, since her and Parker are usually the two drunkest at every occasion.
“No.” I test the water temperature. “Maybe you should reach out.”
Lucinda nods, dodging another person. “Absolutely. I'll circle back later. Better yet, dinner party, so we can interrogate this friend properly?”
I end the call before it mutates into a full-scale investigation. Besides, Jord really does need to check on Punk.
After a quick shower, I change into linen pants and a knitted jumper. My bedroom is comfortable, sure, but it lacks natural light.
I peak behind a heavy curtain that covers half of the wall, and smile when it opens onto a small patio that overlooks the side yard. Yes. This, I could get used to.
Swiping up my laptop and phone, I unlock the door and inhale the perfume of Mother Nature. Well, the best I could get from it in the suburbs.
I take a seat, open my laptop, and breathe.
Let the show begin…
***
I don’t know how long I’ve been out here for, but a knock rattles the main door and I move the net curtains out of the way to see who it is.
Asher.
My head tilts. “Are you lost?”
He laughs, leaning against the door frame. “Maybe. Haven't figured that one out yet.”
“Mm-hmm,” I murmur, shutting my laptop and crossing one leg over the other. “Well, how can I help you?”
He pauses at the foot of the bed. “I don't know. Color me intrigued. I've known Parker for a long time. Never figured he'd settle down, much less marry.”