Page 2 of That Time I Kissed The Groomsman Grump
Sloane is texting.
Sloane is Kasey’s roommate. At least she used to be.But I jumped at the chance to take over Kasey’s old bedroom after she and Beau get married. Meeting Sloane is why I went to LA in the first place. Well, that and impressing my potential landlord, plus connecting with my new boss at St. Joseph’s. If the landlord likes me, and my credit gets approved, I’ll be one step closer to my future.
SLOANE: I’ll let you know as soon as I get an answer from the landlord! I told you she was Miss Hard-to-Please! Hug Kasey and Beau for me! Wish I could be at the wedding with you all! I hate my job!
Poor Sloane is teaching summer school, so she couldn’t get away for a cross-country wedding in July. But I happen to know she actually loves her job. And exclamation points, apparently. She follows up her text with a meme of Spongebob and Patrick line-dancing in super-tight thongs. This weekend, when she took me to the beach, Sloane and I discovered we’re bothsolidlyin the no-thong camp.
Next she sends a GIF of Leslie Knope scowling in a pair of nurse’s scrubs. The caption readstrying to chart when all your friends are on the same shift. I stifle a snort, glancing at the man beside me. Sloane’s got no idea what being a nurse is really like, but at least she’s got a sense of humor. And she’s trying to relate to me. Yes, moving to LA will be the perfect fresh start. I’llfinallybe living near my brother and Kasey, in a rent-controlled apartment, with an awesome roommate who tries.
On that note, I’m running out of time, so I quickly text Sloane back.
ME: I love you!
The second I hit send, my cheeks and throat begin to heat up. Did I really just tell someone I met a few days ago I LOVE YOU?
Oh, Natalie.
My phone buzzes with a new text. It’s probably Sloane saying we can’t room together because I’m clearly an overemotional creeper who stalks strangers and buries them in her backyard. But the message is from my brother. At least Beau won’t be thrown off by an “I love you” text from his weirdo sister. But before I can read what he sent, the flight attendant looms over my seat.
“Airplane mode, please.”
Sorry, Beau. See you in a few hours.Swallowing my mortification at the misstep with Sloane, I fumble with my settings, just as the battery dies. “Oh! Look!” I hold up the screen to show the flight attendant. “Problem solved, see?”
“Brilliant.” His smile is a wall of teeth, but I’m pretty sure he’s unimpressed, so I paste on a grin, ignoring my blush. By now all my skin is flushing hot. As I shove the phone back into my purse, the man next to me begins to stir. I turn toward him, prepared to say hello. That’s when he blows out a long breath of garlic and onions in the morning.
The good news? I’m not hungry anymore.
The bad news? I might need that barf bag after all.
ChapterTwo
BRADY
The first time my phone buzzes, I’m at the clinic, kicked back on the couch, reading a dog-eared paperback and choking down a bologna and cheese. That’s right. I’m a vet technician, and I saiddog-eared. What? Bad puns aren’t illegal.
On the table is a half-eaten bag of corn chips, an untouched apple, and a Dr. Pepper. There’s also a couple copies ofCat FancyandGolf Digest. Since nobody’s around, I’ve got my writing notebook and a black ballpoint, too. I keep them handy when I’m reading alone because sometimes I get inspiration for my own books. But I don’t want anyone to know that about me. At least not yet.
Maybe not ever.
Setting my sandwich down next to the magazines, I swipe at my mouth and check the text.
BEAU: My man. Don’t wanna be a pain, but PLEASE tell me Doc Swanson let you off the hook already.
On a typical Tuesday, I’d still have hours of work before closing, but Beau knows the doctor only scheduled me to work a half day. Starting now—well, technically twenty minutes ago—I’ve got the rest of the week off for best man stuff. That’s me.
I’m the best.
And for better or worse, Dr. Swanson and his wife, Wendy—she’s also his office assistant—have known my sister Kasey and me our whole lives. They want our entire family to have a great wedding week, which means plenty of free time to be together. Of course, the Swansons don’t know the last thing I need isextraaccess to a certain maid of honor. Not after what happened six months ago. Not after we decided not to talk about it. Well.
Shedecided.
Why didn’t you try harder to talk about it, man?
Over the past year or so, I’ve learned just how bad miscommunication is. At least that’s what all the books have taught me. Not just the novels I’ve read, but the craft ones I’ve studied about how to writemy ownstories. So as much as I dread the conversation, I know I’ve got to hash things out with Natalie. Then we’ll have clarity. Zero misconceptions. That’s the only way the two of us can move on.
Funny thing is, Natalie and I helped her brother and my sister become a couple in the first place. Or maybe that’s not funny. Maybe it’s kind of tragic. Because working with Nat Slater to get Beau and Kasey together changed things between the two of us. A slow, subtle shift. After that, on the rare times she’d visit Abieville, I couldn’t stop smiling, making jokes, and laughing with her.
I started to see Natalie for who she was—not just my best friend’s little sister—but a woman who’s hilarious. Gorgeous. Generous. Pretty much all the goodouswords. Too bad the distance between LA and here is tremendous.
