Page 12 of I Could Be Yours

“You’re getting married in a handful of weeks. Again, I say this with love, but we all want you to enjoy the process and not be stressed about work on top of everything else.”

“I really hate not having my own income,” she whispers. “I don’t want to be kept.”

This is such a deep-seated issue for Rix, and it pains me to see her so overwhelmed and on edge. But we’re not solving this problem today, so I’ll do what I can to help alleviate her tension with humor and a little encouragement.

I settle my hands on her shoulders. “Oh my sweet, sweet best friend. Tristan already asked if there’s a cucumber salad. If anyone is being kept, it’s that man.”

She barks out a laugh. “He did not.”

“He totally did. Last word on this for now, but that manwantsto take care of you. We both know you don’t need taking care of, but you don’t have to keep proving it.” I push her hair over her shoulders. “Now, we are going to have the best time this afternoon, and we’re going to play stupid games and make our aunties and moms and grandparents happy, and those boys are going to wait on us hand and foot, and it will be glorious.”

“It will be glorious,” Rix repeats.

Nate reappears. “There are two vegan and two gluten-free charcuterie boards, and they are very clearly marked as such. I made sure with the help of Tally and Fee and some neon chalk things. I reviewed the entire spreadsheet, and everything is accounted for. And there’s also some kind of vegan meringuethat is really freaking tasty, which is wild, because I thought those were made with egg whites.”

“You can use chickpea liquid,” Rix explains.

“Huh. Well, I have a new, deep appreciation for the liquid chickpeas swim in.”

Muffy pokes her head into the kitchen. “Trixie Rixie! There you are. The cake arrived, and I thought you might want to decide where it should go.”

“Yes. Absolutely.” Rix passes me her glass of prosecco and kisses me on the cheek. “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She links arms with her mom, and Muffy guides her out of the room.

I deflate a little and gulp her prosecco.

For a second I forget Nate is still in here. He’s staring at me, a furrow etched in his brow. He opens his mouth to speak, but I raise a hand. “Do not ask me about the spreadsheet.”

“But there?—”

“—is no error.”

“The formula?—”

“—is not wrong.”

“Why are you being so difficult?”

“I don’t know, Nathan, why am I being so difficult?”

I changed the formula so Rix wouldn’t stress about the cost after I sent the specs to Tristan, but I won’t type that in a message or say it out loud right now. I pull my compact and my lip gloss out of my purse so I have something to focus on that isn’t the delicious furrow in his brow.

“Why do you hide behind that?”

“Hide behind what?” Like I want to go out there with smudged eyeliner.

He stares at me.

I stare back, feeling increasingly unsettled by the intense way he’s looking atme.

He kissed me.

He ghosted me.

He never apologized.

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