Page 116 of Sinful Like Us
He tenses. “Yeah.”
We share a look of apprehension.Something’s not right in Philly.It’s our greatest worry, and before he answers his twin brother, Jack Highland approaches us, strapping his Canon camera across his toned chest.
“You go talk to your brother. I’ll talk to Jack,” I tell my boyfriend. “Diviser et conquérir.”Divide and conquer.
“Sounds good.” Thatcher glances at my lips, a volcanic swelter bubbling around us, and we have a difficult time separating.
“See you in a bit,” I whisper.
He breathes harder, and I wish he could kiss me but Tony is obviously hawk-eyeing us from down below.
Thatcher glares in that direction and then moves. “I’ll be right back.” He leaves just as Jack arrives, his smile radiant.
Jack is by far the happiest person I’ve ever met in the best and worst times. “Any footage will be gorgeoushere, especially when the light hits the horizon.” He points to where the sun will set.
I open my binder and click my fuzzy pen. “I’ll mark that down.” I write under theprossection ofPossible Wedding Location #6. “Anything that could cause an issue?”
He motions to the rocky incline we climbed. “Crew is going to struggle up that hill, and so will guests.”
I jot down more notes. Besides Maximoff and Farrow, Jack is the most important person on the location-scouting trip. Whatever outdoor venue they choose has to work for production—in the event that my best friend and his soon-to-be husband want to film their wedding.
They haven’t fully committed, but Jack thought it’d be a good idea to tag along in case they do want the world to see their ceremony.
“Logistically, I can find a way around the hill,” I tell Jack. “I can have temporary stairs placed that won’t hurt the terrain.” I’ve already made a few calls when we first arrived.
“Perfect.” He grips his camera and clicks through photos. “Look.” He shows me a picture of Maximoff and Farrow as they stroll across the plateau hand-in-hand, and Maximoff is sweeping the lush landscape in silent awe. All the while, Farrow is staring deeply at him with a cheek-to-cheek smile.
Happiness pours through me. “Moffy is glowing.” I turn my head. Off in the distance, I see them both chatting and in a position reminiscent of a slow-dance. Hands on shoulders and the back of the neck. Taking a romantic moment for themselves, as they should.
Jack smiles brightly. “This place seems like their favorite so far.”
“A top contender,” I agree, making a few more notes. I wish the others could have seen this spot.
Most of the group accompanied us to Possible Wedding Locations #1 and #2: a bridge over a brook, and then a garden—but hunger struck and they all caravanned back to the house about an hour ago.
I peek up from my binder to check on Thatcher.
He has a boot on a boulder and speaks sternly into the phone. Eyes narrowed, body flexed. His voice is inaudible from here. But a sheep literally creeps away from him.
Thatcher is scaring the animals.
I want to be at his side, but while I have Jack’s attention, I decide to pry just a little.
Out of cousin duties.
Specifically my loyalties to Sullivan Meadows.
“Jack.” I slip my pen in a binder pocket. “You’re friends with Akara.” It’s not so much a question, but a building block to my next point.
“Yeah.” He lets go of his camera and it hangs at his side. “We’re good friends.”
I’d say so, considering I heard they’ve double-dated girls that Jack knew from college.
“Then you must have some idea why Akara is acting standoffish around Sulli. Usually he’s friendly and more of a buddy-guard towards her.”
Jack laughs with the shake of his head. “That, I wouldn’t know.”
I zip my puffy jacket back up as wind accelerates. “You don’t talk about Sulli?”
