Page 56 of Wish You Would

“Oh, you too,” he said, voice tinged with amusement at his own joke. “Say. Will said pie be joining us for breakfast in the morning?”

I pivoted on my heel to face him, snark at the ready. But before I could let it fly, he put his hands up in surrender. “Hey, I want to be a good host. Make sure I set the table for three instead of two or whatever.”

“Since when do you set the table at all?”

“Point taken.” He dug his fork into the pie and lifted a bite to his lips, one dark brow arched. I waited as he chewed, tapping my fingertips against my water glass, curiosity besting me. Once he finished his bite, he casually laid his fork down, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and took a long sip from his own water glass.

“Spit it out, Elliott,” I growled. “I’ve got places to be.”

He laughed. I glowered.

Finally, after an eternity, he spat it out. “Is it her?”

I tilted my head like a confused puppy. “Her?”

“Don’t play dumb, Georgia.” His blue eyes met mine, challenge alight in them. “Is it her?”

“I hate it when you Georgia me,” I muttered. “Makes me regret ever telling you my full name in the first place.”

Luke chuckled and I wanted to throw my water in his face. He really was a cocky fucking know-it-all, wasn’t he? How had I ever let myself befriend this asshole?

“Georgia,” he repeated, tone chiding. I glanced at the glass in my hand, then back to him. He folded his arms over his chest and lifted both brows as if to say, Dare you. And, oh, I wanted to dare. But the thought of Parker, naked and spent, in my bed reined in my impulse.

So, instead of dousing the fucker in tap water, I straightened my spine and smiled sweetly. “Why, Lucas,” I crooned. “Whoever do you mean?”

He frowned. I smiled sweeter. He hated it when I Lucased him almost as much as I hated being Georgiaed. Mostly because it wasn’t even his name. “Fine, fine. Evade the question.” He stood and began gathering the discarded dishes from the island. “I’ll find out eventually.”

I hated him for being right.

“Fuck off,” I grumbled, turning away. His laughter followed me down the hall until I reached my bedroom door.

I stood there for a moment, stomach swooping. A piece of wood separating me from the woman in my bed. For the first time since we crashed into each other, my mind was fogless, and it was presenting some very logical points.

What did this mean?

What happened next?

Would Parker regret it?

Would I?

What if I opened this flimsy piece of wood between us to find her hurriedly pulling on her clothes, panic in those crystalline eyes? What if she told me we’d made a mistake? What if…

My chest tightened. I squeezed my eyes shut and rested my forehead against the door as it hit me: it didn’t matter what waited for me on the other side. Everything had changed. One way or another, it would all be different.

“Gigi?”

The sleepy murmur from inside pulled me from my thoughts. Straightening, I exhaled a slow breath and reached for the doorknob.

Time to face the music.

Easing the door open, I peeked in. Relief whooshed through me so intense I nearly dropped to my knees.

She was still there, in my bed. Curled around my pillow, her dark hair fanned out behind her.

Her sleepy eyes found me as I entered the room. “There you are,” she said, kiss-swollen lips curving into a happy little smile. And fuck. I’d traveled the whole damn world, seen some of the most incredible sights, but Parker’s face in this moment? Nothing compared.

Oh, was I fucked.

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