Page 3 of The Plus Ones
“Wereyoucrying?”
“I was processing some emotions in a totally cool and masculine way, in private. Or so I thought.”
“Well, don’t let me stop you from processing. Ignore me.”
“I think that would be impossible, Roxy Carter.” His head is cocked to one side, and he’s staring at me. Not grinning or smirking, not checking me out or flirting, just…regarding me.
I can’t handle it.
Maybe if I were in my usual Foxy Roxy attire, but not tonight. Not in this pretty lavender spaghetti-strap dress that I would only ever wear for my favorite girl in the world. Not with my hair up and my neck exposed.
Everything about me feels exposed right now.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Screw you, Bridges.”
And now he’s smirking. And there’s that dimple. That dimple that let him get away with being an immature, rich, entitled ass for so many years. “Can’t take a compliment?”
“Isthatwhat that was?”
He shifts on his heels and turns to face the view, turning his attention to the Upper East Side, where he grew up. “I liked your speech. It was sweet. You’re a good friend,” he says, not looking at me.
“Thanks for the feedback.”
I hear air blow out of his nostrils. He’s quietly laughing at me. Whatever, I’m not being defensive.
“I liked your speech too. It was very…not you.”
“Thanks. I guess.”
We both look back toward the inside space when we hear Aimee’s joyful shriek and loud laughter. Chase and Aimee are dancing, and he just dipped her—very carefully. Those guys. So cute.
“I really love those guys,” Keaton says as we watch them together. A statement. Not even a cheesy one.
“Yeah. Me too.”
“I can’t believe I’m gonna be a godfather.”
I snap my head around. “They told you they want you to be his godfather?”
He grins. “No. I’m just assuming. I’m sure they’ll ask you to be the godmother.”
“They fucking better.”
“I have no fucking doubt you’ll be the best fucking godmother ever.”
“You better fucking believe I will.”Shit, I really need to stop swearing so much.
“I do.”
I do.Those two little words make me feel all giggly inside. At a wedding. Even when it’s Keaton Bridges who’s uttering them.
All of a sudden, I’m so aware of the fact that there’s so much love and light inside there, so many of Chase and Aimee’s family and friends and co-workers, and it’s just Keaton and me out here. Outside, looking in. Everyone in our circle of friends is married now, besides us. Chase and Aimee. Matt and Bernadette. Vince and Nina. For a second it feels like this is how it’s going to be from now on. Not him and me together, but…Him. And me. Apart. From them.
I shiver at the thought of it.
“You cold?” he asks.
It’s a ridiculous question, even if he is being polite. It’s a warm, humid summer night. But he looks down at me like he knows exactly what I was thinking. His brown eyes are sad, in a happy-sad kind of way, and it’s killing me just a little bit.
