Page 2 of The Plus Ones
“Roxy!” I hear Aimee call out. “Get in on this!” She waves me over to join the group hug.
I roll my eyes at her, even though I know that she knows that I am dying to get in on that. I get up slowly and trudge over to join Aimee, Chase, and Keaton fucking Bridges in an absolutely epic embrace. It’s fucking beautiful. God, we’re a bunch of cornballs tonight. If I didn’t love us so much, I’d be making fun of us so hard. If I weren’t so focused on how happy I am for my best friend, I’d knee Keaton in the balls for putting his hand on my waist like this.
I’ve never been this close to him before. It’s almost creepy how chiseled his jawline is. It is genuinely annoying how good he smells. Like the Barney’s men’s grooming and fragrance department. He smells like the opposite of my type.
“I feel like maybe we’ve hugged long enough now,” Chase mutters, but he waits for his bride to confirm and end the hug.
“Wrap it up, Gilpin,” I say and then immediately realize she’s a McKay now. “I mean—wrap it up, Mrs. McKay.”
“That’s more like it,” Chase grumbles, but he can’t stop smiling.
So fucking cute.
When Aimee and Chase drop their arms, Keaton slowly removes his hand from my waist, his fingers accidentally grazing my ass. If Aimee weren’t putting one hand on each of our faces and squeezing our cheeks, I would totally call him on it.
“I love you guys so much. Thank you for your beautiful speeches.” She kisses Keaton on the cheek and then kisses me on the cheek, and then she and Chase get pulled away by relatives, and Keaton and I are left standing here.
He nods at me. “Roxy.”
I roll my eyes—which is a mistake because it almost shakes a tear loose. “Keaton. Those are some friendly fingers you’ve got on you tonight.”
He winks and straightens his tie with those fingers. “If you’d like them onyoutonight, just let me know.”
That’s what I thought.
But there’s something…something about the way he looks at me that hints that he’s not just being a cocky flirt. It makes me…step back and walk away.
I pass Aimee’s cousin, one of the bridesmaids, on my way to the ladies’ room. We smile and nod at each other. I overhear her telling her friend that she’s going to “go get me some of that Best Man now.”
You go, girl. Good luck with that.
I’m gonna go cry in a bathroom stall like a proper Maid of Honor.
Okay, I could not cry in the bathroom stall because there were so many women waiting in line. Fucking Greenpoint event loft withonebathroom stall in the ladies room. Where’s a girl gotta go to weep with a little dignity around here?
The dancing portion of the evening has begun, and I refuse to stand around with this tingling nose and these eyes that sting and this lump in my throat.
I look out the glass doors to the deck. Surprisingly, it appears to be empty. Everyone’s inside dancing and being all happy and coupled-up. No one will notice if Foxy Roxy disappears out there for two minutes to squeeze a few drops of this stupid burning liquid from my tear ducts. I don’t make eye contact with anyone as I head for the doors.
As soon as I step out into the night and breathe that fresh air, I feel better.
This loft is on the third floor, and there’s a view of the East River with the Manhattan skyline beyond.
I walk straight over to the railing and stand in a dark corner, facing the river, and let my stupid inner crybaby do her thing.
Fucking weddings.
I let out a loud sigh, grab on to the railing and let my head drop back, squeezing my eyes shut.
“Are you crying?”
I whip around, wiping the corners of my eyes with my fingertips.
Keaton fucking Bridges.
“Did you follow me out here?”
“I was here first. You just didn’t see me.” His hands are in his pockets. I don’t know how anyone can look so casual in such an expensive suit, like he was born in it.
