Page 124 of The Life-Changing Magic of Falling in Love

‘Hello? Bigger problems…’

‘Because you seem like you’re?—’

‘I’m not upset about ending things with Zach. What I’m upset about is ever thinking taking a casual date to this wedding would cut it. I cannot make this day difficult in any way for Sarah’s family. I’d never be able to live with myself. So, do I seem not my usual calm, positive self? Absolutely. But do I still need to arrive at my parents’ house in less than three hours? Completely. So am I going to have to figure out the rest on the w?—’

‘Hey, Ashleigh?’

The softness in his voice has me stopping dead in my tracks.

‘Give me five minutes to finish packing, okay?’

My smile turns wobbly as for the first time all morning it feels like there’s a chance this is all going to be okay. ‘Why do you need five minutes? I’ve already packed for you.’

‘And thank you but I’m pretty sure I won’t be needing this?’ He pulls out the wetsuit I’d randomly packed. ‘Unless it’s an underwater wedding?’

‘It’s not an underwater wedding. It’s a regular church and backyard wedding.’

‘Then put this,’ he says pulling out his blue suit, ‘in a suit carrier with a white shirt while I get my wash kit together, okay?’

‘Okay. Hey, George?’

‘Hmm?’ He pauses in the act of shoving a pair of shoes into the bag and looks up at me.

‘Thank you,’ I whisper.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

ROAD TRIP DISTRACTIONS

George

‘Give me a couple minutes to change,’ Ashleigh tells me, dashing past to disappear into another room.

I stay by the front door of her apartment, my gaze swinging from the couch with the bed behind it to the kitchen that’s really more of a kitchenette, to the two closed doors in what passes for a hallway, before swinging back to the bed again.

Her place smells familiar – clean and fresh and identical to the scent left behind when she visits my apartment – the scent of an ocean breeze on a warm sunny day. I breathe it deep into my lungs and swear I can feel it tiptoe into my heart looking for somewhere to snuggle. I raise my hand to rub at my heart, still trying to get my head around the fact that less than thirty minutes ago I was woken from a fantasy about Ashleigh by Ashleigh. So much for trying to brainstorm job opportunities, I must have dozed off.

Of course, now that I have the sexy bunny visual it’s going to be impossible to focus on important matters like finding employment.

I flash back to the feel of her body against mine when she whirled around into me all clumsy-sexy and endearing as hell.

With my glance fixated still on the bed, I bang my head softly against the door a couple of times. ‘You want me to load the car while you’re changing?’ I call out. Anything to distract me from the bed and my thoughts.

‘Great. It’s everything in the hallway.’

I love that she’s zoned a space that’s essentially no bigger than a postage stamp. I scan the console table with the bowl filled with white feathers and the bags and packages surrounding it. As I reach up to get a garment carrier that’s hanging lopsided off the mirror, I spy two plates and recognise them as Mrs. Lundy’s. No longer cracked or chipped, because Ashleigh has fixed them up with some sort of gold paint. I reach out and run my finger over the three cracks. Isn’t the whole point of fixing them so that the lines aren’t glaringly obvious?

A quiet cursing from the room beyond has me smiling. ‘Hey,’ I ask, ‘you got cannoli in one of these bags?’

‘Cannoli?’ Her voice is muffled like she’s got her head stuck inside a top she’s changing into.

I’d offer to help but I sort of like the idea of her having to keep the bunny costume on for the drive. ‘I’m thinking going home to your parents might be one of those “Take the cannoli, leave the wetsuit” situations?’

She pokes her head out the bathroom door. ‘Ha!’ She disappears briefly and then pops her head back out. ‘Wait, that was a Godfather mashup, right?’

I grin, refusing to let my gaze stray down to her still naked shoulders. ‘Right. So, do we need to pick up some cannoli on the way?’

‘Got it covered but thanks for reminding me – there’s a box from Oscars in the fridge that needs to come with us. George?’

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