Page 2 of Lyrical

“I know. I’m just in some pre-bridal slump or some crap like that. I’m sure it’ll pass soon. But I swear on our undying friendship that it has nothing to do with your brother.” She pulled back and narrowed her eyes at me. “And what the fuck? How could you even think such a thing? You know how much I love him, and for you of all people to even think I have cold feet…”

I opened my mouth. Yeah, she was right, but in my defense, she had not been acting like herself. Still, I didn’t mean to offend her.

“…but I do have a freezing ass. What the fuck, Jills? Is your heater broken now too? I know you’ve cut down your hours since Mr. Hard arrived on the scene, but I’m sure you still make boatloads. Certainly enough to fix the damn thing.”

I shook my head, smiling. She’d already forgiven me. “It’s not broken, and you should be fine. You’re sitting on two blankets.” And she was covered in two more.

“And my ass is still blue. Could you please just check? I think I’m starting to see my breath. Although, if itisbusted, good luck getting your pigheaded self to fix it. You seem to have a stubborn streak when it comes to major household appliances.”

I rolled my eyes, laughing, and went over to the thermostat. It was fine. Sixty-two degrees. I liked it cooler in winter. It made for better sleeping, especially when a certain body was pressed against me all night. Any hotter and I was liable to combust.

“Nope, nothing’s broken,” I said, digging through the basket on the floor of my hall closet. I hauled out another blanket and tossed it to her. “And as far as I know, my a/c is still working perfectly too. Would you like me to check?”

“You’re hilarious.”

“If you’re that cold, I could start a fire. I’ll just have to run out to the shed and collect some wood and—”

“No, I’ll suffer.” She stood up, draping the heaviest blanket around her shoulders. “But I’m not going to do it without hot chocolate. When I come back, we’ll talk wedding shit. Promise.”

“Okay.” I picked up the nut ball. “Here, you probably want this back.”

She stuck out her tongue. “Blech. What’s the purpose of ruining chocolate like that? If I want nuts in my mouth, I’ll—”

“Go make your drink,” I said, interrupting her before she could finish her favorite pastime of reminding me how active a sex life my brother enjoyed. “And throw this away if you’re not going to eat it.”

She caught my toss. “Try the truffles, Jills. It’ll give you an orgasm. I had three just sitting here.”

“I already get plenty. And I get to keep my stable blood sugar levels.”

“Suit yourself. More for me.”

Perry scrounged up all the crinkled candy wrappers to add to the garbage and headed to the kitchen. I slid over and pushed the lid down on the pink and red jumbo box, puffing up a squeal of air. I was impressed. It was the last day of February, and she still had some pieces left.

“How’d you ever manage to keep yourself from finishing the box yet?” I yelled to her.

She stuck her head around the corner. “Because it’s my second one.”

I smiled; Stephen knew her so well. Her perfect Valentine’s Day gift was a double order of anything sweet, hold the flowers. She was the only one I knew who’d be able to pound down so much crap and show up at the altar looking like she’d just spent three weeks at a rejuvenation clinic.

My cell dinged and I glanced over at the table, the text lighting up the screen and warming me more than any hot drink.

Taking Hazel ice skating tonight. You in?

I caught sight of the igloo taking up residence outside my back window, and my face brightened further. Chase and I built it during our most recent snowstorm the previous weekend. He got a chance to prove his point that yes, you really can build one warm enough to get naked inside if you get creative with your body heat.

I shifted around, straightening and then crossing my legs again. Would I always feel like a horned-up teenager when I thought of him? God, I hoped so.

“Let me guess,” Perry said, coming back with one of my mugs that could double as a soup bowl. It was piled high with whipped cream. I kept a family-sized can in the fridge at all times just for her. “There’s only one person who could make you look so dumb.”

“Thanks.”

“I meant that in a good way.” She slurped up a mouthful of cream, plopping back down on the floor.

“You can sit on the couch, you know. I’m just down here because it’s easier for me to spread out everything and keep track of it.”

“No, I’m better now.”

My phone dinged again, spurring on more goofiness inside.

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