Page 77 of Wingwoman
There was no reason to try and deny or hide the fact I didn’t support this wedding. I just didn’t support it for different reasons than they thought.
Julianne:
We have the dress fittings for the bridesmaids in a week and a half on Friday.
Dammit. How did I not know about that? I was a bridesmaid after all. Oh, right. I told them I would order my own dress and have it fitted myself on my own time.
I bit my lip, thinking about my bridesmaids dress that was hanging, completely unopened, in the back of the closet at my dad’s condo. I literally hadn’t ever opened it or even taken a look at what the bridesmaids dress looked like. In my mind, it didn’t matter.
Hope:
I’ll be there.
With that, I tossed my phone on the bed, then crossed over to the dresser that sat across the room, opening the top drawer. Inside were neatly folded bra and panty sets. 34B. My size.
How the hell andwhythe hell did he have my size underwear already stocking these drawers? Did he so strongly suspect I would fail at our bet and be living here? Or maybe he had a type… slim with small handful-sized breasts.
Or maybe he knew I’d be living here because he had no intention of giving the women I set him up with a fair chance.
I slammed the drawer shut with a huff. Whatever the reason, I was here now. And it was too late to turn back. I’d just signed the contract and sent it over, despite my reticence to some of his terms. He made compelling counterpoints in his arguments though, I’d give him that.
I opened the next drawer down and found three bathing suits—a turquoise string bikini, a one-piece that from the front looked modest, but the back had merely dental floss as a thong, and another one piece with so many straps and chains and keyholes cut out at the stomach, I wasn’t even sure how the hell to put it on.
The pool was calling my name. After all, Josh had said to make myself at home
Getting some vitamin D would help me feel better with this hangover. And a cool splash in the pool would be refreshing enough to wake me up so I could get to work transporting my things from Dad’s condo over here before our date tomorrow night.
Our date.
I was going on a date with Josh.
Fake date, I corrected myself.
Sure, it might not be a real date… or rather the kind of date that will last and grow into anything more after these six weeks, butstill.
It was very real the way being near him made my blood soft and my brain fuzzy.
I chose the turquoise string bikini and also one of the wraps folded in the drawer beside the bathing suits.
I wasn’t exactly sure which way the pool was, but as I came downstairs, I found an older woman with kind, dark brown eyes and graying hair humming in the kitchen as she cleaned. “Oh,” I said, startled and forgetting my manners.
She looked up from the feather duster… seriously, a feather duster. I didn’t even know anyone cleaned with those anymore. “Hi there.”
“Sorry,” I tried again. “You must be, um, Jamilla, right?” I recalled her name from Josh’s email just half an hour ago.
“Yes,” she said, smiling a wide, warm grin that revealed all of her teeth. “Joshy mentioned we might have a houseguest for a little while.”
Joshy? I noted to myself. I’d have to remember that one…
So I could throw it back in his face.
“I’m Hope,” I said, stepping forward and offering her my palm.
She took it with a firm grip of her soft hands. “Nice to meet you, Hope. If you need anything, you let me know.”
“Actually… can you point me towards the pool?”
“Ah, yes! Follow me.”
