Page 6 of It's Complicated

She tilts her head. “So, has Aiden ever complained about Kirsten’s excess primness?”

And we’re back at it. “Aiden’s a grown man, Lola,” I say, doing my best not to lose my shit completely. “He can make his own decisions.”

Her smile dies. Lori bites her lower lip as if to stop a retort from coming out of her mouth. Her eyes fleet back to the coffee table and the ivory envelope resting on the dark wooden surface. She reaches for it and cradles the missive in her lap. Lori looks down at the letter and hands it to me, whispering, “You open it, I can’t.”

I take it from her and carefully tear the seal.

A single piece of ivory cardstock rests inside.

“With great pleasure,” I read aloud, “Dr. Aiden Jackson Collymore and Kirsten Ann Cunningham invite you to join them in the celebration of their marriage…”

I turn to Lori, who’s staring out the window.

She scoffs. “I bet Kirsten insisted on putting the doctor in. Come on, rip the Band-Aid. When is it?” Her voice cracks over the question.

“Soon.”

Lori turns to me, eyes teary. “How soon?”

I make to put the card away. “Maybe we should do this another time.”

Showing the reflexes of a panther, Lori snatches the invitation from me and reads it.

“WHAT?!”

Here we go…

“They’re getting married in a month? That must be the shortest engagement ever. And the wedding is on Valentine’s Day no less? Who gets married on Valentine’s Day? It’s so cheesy. They’re clearly compensating for lack of real romance in the relationship.”

“Clearly.”

“Are you making fun of my misery?”

“I wouldn’t dare. Listen, did you have dinner? Because I’m starving. How about I make us something?”

I stand up, my gaze landing on the boots scattered onto the rug.

Lori tracks my stare. “Those discarded shoes are killing you, aren’t they?”

“Nope.”

Lori picks them up and stands. “I’ll put them away if you promise to make your mac and cheese. I need comfort food. And wine, plenty of wine.” She walks toward the hall.

I move into the kitchen and search the cabinets for the ingredients. “You’re the worst doctor—I hope a bowl of cholesterol and plenty of wine isn’t the dietary advice you give my patients when I’m away.”

“Don’t worry, most of your patients don’t come to the practice when you’re away. My face isn’t pretty enough.”

I’m already at the stove when she hugs me from behind, pressing her cheek between my shoulder blades. “Jace?”

I try my best to stay relaxed. “Yes?”

“Can I sleep here?”

“Won’t all your pets die if you abandon them?”

“No, I’ve already fed them and the girls must already be in bed by now.”

“Sure, then.”

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