Page 90 of Calamity Rayne Gets Hitched

The seamstress stuff was really wearing on me—no pun intended. Fittings made people assume they could say whatever they wanted about my body and diet. Not that I expected to gain twenty pounds in the next two months, but everything was measured and marked down to the centimeter. It was needling my commitment issues and provoking my urge for defiance.

“Um… yeah. Sure.”

“Cool. I can meet you in twenty minutes.”

This was new territory for me and my future brother-in-law. We met at a fast food chicken restaurant in Time Square. I ordered my usual while Barrett looked like he’d never seen a takeout menu before.

“Just pick something. It’s all delicious.”

When my food was ready, I carried the tray to one of the tables by the window. Barrett followed, appearing completely out of his element.

“For the love of God.” I ripped open a packet of the special sauce and set it in front of him. “Eat a nugget.”

He hesitantly dunked a nugget and tasted it, lifting his brows as his tastebuds approved. “Pretty good.”

“Duh, it’s deep-fried chicken.” I sipped my frosty. “So, have you talked to Elle?”

He frowned. “How did I know you would bring that up?”

“What else would we talk about?”

“Plenty. We could talk about you and Hale or how the wedding plans are going. My niece, your new Jeep, what it’s like to work for someone as chronically dissatisfied as my dad, the upcoming election, how you’re enjoying your time in New York.”

“Yeah, that all sounds totally stimulating, but I really just want to know what’s going on with you and Elle. Since you won’t let me bring it up to her, I have no way of getting information. It’s only fair that you fill me in.”

He brushed the crumbs off his fingers. Davenports always had impeccable table manners, no matter the setting.

“There’s nothing to tell. I’m not really sure what’s going on. We’re sort of in hiatus since I’m here and she’s there.”

“But you’re going back to Florida, right?”

Barrett was the least rooted, so he frequently moved from one five-star hotel to the next, basically living like a bougie gypsy.

He shrugged. “Eventually.”

That didn’t sound promising. “What’s the other guy like?”

“Well, last night when we were painting each other’s nails—Come on, Meyers. Do you honestly think we’re hanging out? I couldn’t give two shits what he’s like.”

“But you care that he’s with Elle.”

“Well…” He dunked a fry and looked me in the eye as he chewed. Yeah, he cared.

I sighed. “Did she say anything about me when you were together?”

“Find another spy, Meyers.”

I knew I was pushing my luck, but this whole thing felt like I was being shut out. I didn’t feel welcome to go to the source. “Fine. How do you like the nuggets?”

“I’m going to have to run three extra miles to work them off. Why are they so good?”

“You cannot run three miles.”

“I can run six.”

“Shut up.”

He leaned back and smoothed his palm down his fitted shirt, strumming his evident six-pack. “This takes work to maintain.”

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