Page 59 of Stick Break
Right. Of course. I guess on the bright side of this they’re not asking me what I do for a living, the answer of course would be, I’m between jobs. Not a lie at all.
I launch in full throttle, weaving an elaborate story about Italy and a castle—described in lavish detail, though I have no clue if it even exists. Then I gush about colors, cake, flowers, like a pro bride-to-be on a sugar rush.
When I finally stop talking, four pairs of eyes are locked on me, wide and starry.
Oh no. Did I go too far? Did any of that sound believable?
“That is absolutely magical,” Suzanne breathes, sighing with the kind of wistfulness that makes my heart ache. “I’ve worked with so many brides over the years, and I’m not sure I’ve ever heard anyone sound this excited.”
I want to laugh. Did I really sound that enthusiastic? Is this even my dream wedding? I don’t know. Honestly, everything I just told them is a little fib. But the camaraderie feels real. I miss this — female friendship that’s not a competition or a backstab waiting to happen. The kind I never got on The Spotlight.
“It sounds like a real fairy tale,” Jocelyn chimes in, leaning back with a warm smile.
Yeah. Fairy tales. The kind Rip and I don’t believe in. But sometimes, just sometimes, pretending feels a little like normalcy, in a world where I have none.
I scan the crowd and find Rip watching me. His eyes are searching for mine and my heart does a weird little tumble in my chest. He raises his brow, and when he gestures toward my guitar I shake my head and give him a smile. He nods and goes back to chatting with his new friends.
“Dinner is ready,” a man named Jack, I believe announces from the grill. We all stand and make our way to the table. I fill a plate with salad, and Rip moves in beside me. I don’t need to turn to know it’s him. His scent alone is warm and familiar and fills me with a need I didn’t know I had…until him.
Oh boy.
I turn to him and glance up. The second my eyes meet his, and his body brushes mine, a burst of warmth goes through me. I can’t believe he offered to let me stay longer. While I appreciate the offer, I’m not sure it’s a good idea. More time with this man, might not be good for me…for so many reasons.
I scan the crowd and catch Rip’s gaze locked on me. His eyes are hunting for mine, and suddenly my heart flips like it just did a tiny, unexpected somersault. He raises one brow — that subtle, teasing question, then gestures toward my guitar. I shake my head, flash him a quick, knowing smile. He nods, then melts back into conversation with his new friends like it’s no big deal.
“Dinner’s ready!” calls a guy named Jack—or something like that—from the grill. The signal for all of us to move toward the table. I pile my plate with salad while Rip sidles up beside me.
I don’t even need to turn to know it’s him. His scent — warm, familiar — drifts to me like a magnet, stirring up a need I never knew was there…until him.
Oh boy.
I finally look up, and the second our eyes meet, and his body brushes mine, a flash of heat explodes through me. I can’t believe he offered to let me stay longer. And while part of me wants to jump at the chance, I’m not sure it’s the smartest move. More time with him might just be trouble. Trouble I’m not sure I’m ready for, for so many complicated reasons.
But dammit, I’m going to enjoy this while it lasts.
15
Rip
With our bellies full, the sun melting into the horizon, and the sky blushing wild shades of orange and pink, we gather around the fire pit. A salty breeze toys with our hair, while the kids gleefully offer marshmallows to the flames like tiny, sticky sacrifices to the beach gods.
“Want one?” I ask, leaning into Charley, brushing my shoulder against hers.
She rubs her stomach dramatically. “I am so full. I couldn’t put another thing in my mouth if I tried.”
I shift slightly, adjusting my pants with a silent curse, but then she bites her bottom lip, and that’s when I get it. She’s messing with me.
“You are so going to get it,” I whisper in her ear.
She grins. “Casserole,” she fires back. “Wait. No, that’s the safe word, to stop. I meant.” She puckers her lips. “I’m looking for the opposite. The word that gets us out of here. Because I’m so going to get it…”
The glow from the fire flickers across her face, her blonde hair catching the light like spun sugar. My throat goes tight.
“Did you have fun?” I ask, softer now. I don’t want to pull her away before she’s ready.
She nods. “Actually… yeah. I’m really glad we came.”
“Me too.” I reach for her hand, wrap mine around it, and hold tight. Across the circle, I catch a few knowing smiles aimed our way, but right now, I don’t care. I’m imagining her alone. Bare. Beneath me. My name on her lips. I’m about to suggest we “go check if we left the window open” when?—
